Page 14 of Lucas

Lucas leans close, so close I’m sure he can hear my heart racing, and growls, “The only mistake was that I let it get personal.”

Anger thrums through me. My logical brain had long ago accepted that I meant nothing more to him than a one-night-stand, but hearing it aloud stings worse than a slap across the face. “So, you admit it? You’d rather we not met at all?” I’m pushing, precariously close to making a scene, and I don’t even care. “Just walk away, Lucas. Forget about me altogether. I am nothing. No one.”

His hand closes around my wrist, sending a shockwave through to my core. The intensity in his eyes takes my breath away. “I’m afraid that’s not an option. Because the truth is, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about that sweet pussy of yours since the second you walked out the door of my apartment.”

I suck in a sharp gasp. My breath releases in a slow stutter. “Don’t.” Every cell in my body has snapped to attention, yearning for his touch. I won’t—can’t—give in to him. Not again. “You don’t have the right to talk to me that way.”

His thumb feathers across the inside of my wrist.

Jesus. It’s like a high-voltage current of electricity buzzes from the tips of his fingers. I yank my arm away, elbowing a passing server in the process. The glasses perched on his tray go flying. Champagne flutes hit the floor in a dizzying clamor, bringing the surrounding white noise of discussion to an abrupt halt.

Sheer embarrassment threatens to swallow me whole.

I crouch to begin picking up the shards of glass on the floor, repeatedly apologizing to whomever will listen. Lucas tucks his hand under my elbow and lifts me until I stand. Tears gather in my eyes, and my bottom lip quivers.

Pull it together, Eden.

Lucas’s emerald eyes soften. “You’re not upset that I didn’t tell you my full name, Eden.”

I am, I want to shout, but he’d see straight through the lie. It’s more than his identity he kept from me—everything about our meeting just feels dishonest somehow. And, just like the girl who went willingly to his bed, that’s not who I am.

My teeth grind together. “For the last time, quit pretending like you know me.”

“You don’t think I’ve done my homework?” He scoffs. “If I’d known you were a journalist before I invited you into my apartment, you would have never made it past the lobby, no matter what publication you’ve attached your name to.”

The cruelty of his tone sparks another wave of anger. “You have some serious trust issues, Mr. Hammer.”

The accusation hits home. Lucas’s jaw tenses, and his smoldering eyes glow as if they’re on fire. He opens his mouth but I move in for the kill, unwilling to let myself get swept up in his power. “Leave me alone, Lucas, before I make you front page news.”

It’s an empty threat—I’ve got nothing on Lucas or his company—but the threat strikes its intended mark. He shoves his hands in his pockets and stares at me, like I’m an insect that requires dissecting. I shrivel under the intensity of his gaze.

“I have a much better idea,” he says, calmly. His tongue slides across his bottom lip. “How about you and I take this conversation to somewhere more…” His eyes move from my mouth to my chest, widening with unmistakable hunger. “… private?”

My mind screams at me to say No, but my body, my heart—well, they’ve got other plans.

Chapter 7

The voice of reason pounds at the back of my skull, and still, I allow Lucas to drag me from the ballroom by my wrist. I glance over my shoulder and blush when I spot Buck watching us leave. He raises his glass and winks.

Busted.

With my luck, it will be me that makes the fucking front page.

Rattled, my heels catch on the bottom of my gown. I pitch forward, falling into Lucas’s arms with the grace of an elephant. Without a word, he steadies me, motions for me to wait, and then heads to the reception desk with determined strides.

I twist my fingers behind my back, fidgeting as Lucas hands over a credit card, takes the access key, stalks back. He roughly grabs my and half drags me to the elevator. My palms slick with sweat. The door swooshes open, we step inside, the air crackles with tension so thick you could slice it.

Neither of us speaks.

My chest swells so tight I can barely breathe.

Lucas lifts his gaze to the light at the top of the elevator, watching the numbers crawl toward the penthouse suite. With his attention diverted, I study his profile, the clench of his jaw, the firm line of his lips pressed together. He’s frustrated, or mad, or I don’t even know what.

This is ridiculous. Foolish. A complete mistake. I’ve seen him when he’s angry, and it wasn’t pretty.

But how can I resist the need that pulls my insides tight like an elastic band, stretched almost to breaking?

Nothing has changed between us—he is Lucas Hammer, and I’m just…me. The kind of girl that doesn’t fall for billionaires. And yet, my desire is all consuming, pushing me to forget the anger, the complications, the reasons we absolutely, most definitely, should not be together.