“Why are you always watching me, Lucas?” I let his name linger on my tongue.
He narrows his eyes, earning a chuckle from me. “You already know why.”
“I know.” I shrug my shoulders as my hand slides toward his belt just to roam back up. “But I want to hear you say it.”
He sighs. The sound comes out shaky.
“You always move around like you own the place. Doesn’t matter where you are or who you’re with. You make sure that everyone knows you’re there. It’s kind of hard not to look.”
I hum, encouraging him to continue.
“You seem to expect people to be staring at your body and I won’t lie and say I haven’t.” He chuckles weakly. “But whenever you catch me staring, your whole body freezes. Only for a split second but it’s like you weren’t expecting anyone to ever actually look at you. Not your body but you.”
My hand freezes in its place, giving Lucas the opportunity to scoot closer. He presses his hand flat against mine, keeping my palm in place against the hardness of his abdomen.
He continues. “I like watching you exist. I like seeing you laugh. Smile. I like watching how your cheeks get red when you’re nervous but you try really hard to hide it.”
This time he’s the one to bring his lips to my ear. “I love watching you catch an attitude. Especially with me, Stryker.”
I bet if you walked over there, took him by the hand, and led him up those stairs, he’d follow you around like a puppy dog.
This is a bad idea. A stupid, crazy idea. But I pull away, stand up, and reach my hand out for Lucas to take. And goddamn it, he follows me without a single complaint. I lead him back inside, through the crowd, and up the stairs. He doesn’t say a word, not until I usher him into an empty room and close the door behind us.
I flick on the lights before I notice there’s a neatly made bed and decide that this will suffice because there’s no way in hell I can wait any longer to have Lucas all to myself.
“So, how many drinks have you had exactly?” Lucas awkwardly chuckles, hand going to scratch the back of his neck.
God, he’s so fucking adorable.
“Definitely not enough to cloud my judgement.”
But he doesn’t move. Instead, his eyes scan over me, looking for any signs that I might be lying, I’m sure.
I toss my discarded heels to the floor and walk over to stand in front of Lucas but he doesn’t reach for me this time, so I’m the one to do it. My hands slip around his waist and I place a gentle kiss on the side of his neck. “I want you, Lucas. Don’t you want me?”
“Fuck.” His hands shoot out to grip my hips as he sighs, like being this close to me is causing him actual pain.
Good.
“I do want you.” He swallows. “I want you so fucking bad. You’re all I’ve been thinking about.”
I place another kiss on his neck and pull away just enough to look him in his eyes. They’re cloudy, but not from drinking. I haven’t seen him reach for anything all night. No, this is something different. Something more. Something that has me pressing my body closer to his.
“Then show me what you’re going to do about it,” I whisper.
One second I’m standing, the next, Lucas is lifting me up and wrapping my legs around his waist. His hands grip my ass, hard. Determined. Before finally crashing his lips into mine.
He tastes of mint and sugar from whatever soda he had earlier, the spicy scent of his cologne flooding my senses. He groans into me and the sound vibrates against my own mouth. One of my hands grips onto the fabric of his shirt tightly, the other resting on the side of his neck, needing him closer.
Lucas walks us to the bed where he drops me down and I land on the mattress with a bounce. He then quickly pulls his shirt over his head in one motion before joining me.
I lean back on my elbows, watching him place desperate kisses on my ankle and all the way up to my thighs. My breaths come out quick and shallow.
I’ve seen Lucas shirtless before. In the weight room at the ice rink or when he decides he doesn’t need a shirt to lift weights at the gym he likes to follow me to. But every time I’m granted an unfiltered view of his dark skin, his athletic build, or the curve of his waist, my mind asks me why I ever thought it was a good idea to stay away from Lucas for this long.
“Can I taste you?” Lucas looks up at me, his head now between my parted thighs. “Fuck, please, Princess. I need it. I need to know what you taste like.”
Who am I to keep someone from their needs?