Page 31 of The Viper
I straightened, setting my drink down. “Yeah?” I called, stepping toward the door.
“I need your help.”
My mind raced. A towel, maybe? Shampoo? Wasn’t that what assistants were for?
“What’s up?” I asked, my voice steady despite the way my pulse kicked.
“It’s hard to explain through the door,” she said. “Just come in.”
Fuck.
My hand hesitated on the knob. She was probably wrapped in a robe, every curve covered, nothing to worry about.
I pushed the door open, and steam billowed out, thick and warm, clouding the air. For a moment, I couldn’t see her, just the haze and the faint outline of the shower. Then she stepped forward, and my breath stopped.
She was naked. Completely, unapologetically naked.
Her skin glistened, water droplets tracing paths I couldn’t follow without losing my damn mind. She was beautiful—terrifyingly so—and for reasons I couldn’t name, that scared the shit out of me. My instincts screamed to back away, to run, to get the hell out before I did something stupid.
“Lexi,” I said, my voice rougher than I meant. “What?—”
“I wanted to say thank you,” she said, her voice steady, her eyes locked on mine. She took a step closer, unafraid, her presence filling the room like a storm.
I froze, my back against the doorframe.
“For what?” I asked, even though I knew, my mind yelling at me to move, to leave, to do anything but stand there.
“For last night,” she said, closing the distance. “For stopping me.”
I swallowed hard, my throat dry despite the humidity. “You don’t need to?—”
“I want to,” she cut in, her voice soft but firm. She was close now, too close, her scent—clean, warm, with that hint of sweat—wrapping around me like a vice.
My mind flashed to her sister, her assistant, the entourage that could walk in any second.
“Hannah,” I said, grasping for a lifeline. “Your people. They could be back any time.”
She shook her head, a faint smile curving her lips. “I sent them on errands. You know, big-time actress needs.” Her tone was light, teasing, but her eyes were anything but.
My blood roared. Was this what I was to her? A quick fix, a thrill to satisfy some Hollywood whim?
Fuck it, I decided just as fast. If she wanted to play, I was willing.
I closed the gap, my hand finding her waist, and kissed her—hard, hungry, like the world was about to explode. Her lips were soft, warm, yielding for a split second before she kissed me back, fierce and unyielding, and I felt the ground shift beneath me.
11
LEXI
His mouth was on mine before I even realized I’d moved.
Or maybe I hadn’t. Maybe he’d been the one to close the distance, to decide for both of us. Either way, the second our lips met, the rest of the world disappeared—sound, reason, restraint—gone.
Lucas kissed like a man who knew exactly what he wanted and didn’t waste time pretending otherwise.
There was no hesitation, no question. Just heat. Controlled, devastating heat.
His hands framed my face at first—gentle, almost reverent—and then slid down, slow and sure, tracing my jaw, my throat, my collarbone. His palms were rough, callused in a way that made me wonder what kind of work left marks like that. It didn’t feel like Hollywood softness. It felt earned. Lived. Dangerous.
