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When he doesn’t find anything, he glances up at me suspiciously. His gaze flicks toward the bathroom again, and my heart nearly stops beating.
He’s going to search it again.
And this time, maybe he will find the phone.
“You don’t believe I’m not hiding something, Lucas?” I blurt, my voice raspy. “I’ll fucking prove it to you.”
You said it wouldn’t happen again.
The helpless words reverberate through my mind, but they already feel like a lie. It’s about survival at this point.
I have no other fucking choice.
I tug at the hem of my sweater, pulling it slowly over my neck and shoulders. My gaze leaves his for a second as I tug the sweater all the way off, and when I find his eyes again, they’re blazing with heat.
My skin prickles with goose bumps, and my nipples harden, pressing against the thin fabric of my bra as my chest heaves with deep breaths. I deliberately shake out the sweater and drop it to the floor, showing him I’m not hiding anything. Reaching for my pants, I pop open the button and drag the zipper down.
“See?” I ask, pulling the waistband down to show my underwear.
“I still don’t believe you.” His voice drops to a lower timbre as he watches me. “Take off your pants.”
I do as he says, pulling the pants down my thighs and stepping out of them on the floor. I feel his gaze roam up and down my body, settling at my breasts and the place between my thighs, lingering at the curve of my hip.
“I still don’t fucking trust you, Grace,” he murmurs, gaze dragging back to mine.
“Pat me down, then.” I spread out my arms, trying to hide the tremor in my limbs. “There’s nowhere else for me to hide anything.”
That’s not strictly true, and Lucas has been in a criminal organization long enough to know that just as well as I do.
My pulse accelerates as his hot stare burns a path down my skin, trailing toward the place at the apex of my thighs. He takes a step closer to me, hand covering my left hip as he tugs me closer to him. His palm drags along the softness of my sk
in, like skimming a hand over a flame, hoping not to get burned.
“I’m just gonna check.” His other hand comes down on my right hip, caging me in. “I have to… be sure.”
“Be my guest,” I whisper. I wish the words sounded more confident, more dismissive. But the small hitch in my voice gives me away.
“Lift your hands up, Grace.” He smiles as I do as he says, lifting my hands above my head. “Good girl.”
He pats down my waist and hips, then slides his hands up my back and over my shoulders.
Fuck. Don’t let it feel good. Don’t let it feel like anything.
My body rocks toward him as his hands capture my waist from the back, dragging along the hipbone, ending at my sensitive navel. Snaking around my body, his touch skims down my thighs, my calves, then back up again, grasping my ass and tugging me closer. He’s crouched in front of me, and I can feel the subtle warmth of his breath brush against my lower belly.
“See? I’m not hiding anything.” My heart rattles in my chest as I look up at the ceiling, avoiding his gaze. I don’t want him to catch the flutter of my eyelids or the quickening of my breath.
“Maybe. Maybe not.”
He stands back up, and I find myself eye level with his lips. They’re almost identical to his brother’s, full and soft-looking, with a perfect curve at the top. I stare at them, unable to look away as they tilt upward in a slow smile.
“Are you satisfied?” I murmur, nearly dizzy from lack of oxygen. I don’t think I’ve drawn a full breath since he first touched me.
The tips of his fingers skim across the band of my panties, and my toes curl into the carpet. I think he might plunge his hand inside and slip his fingers into my core any second—one of the last remaining places I could be smuggling something. But instead, he dips his touch lower, thumb brushing against my clit through the cotton of my panties as his palm presses into me.
“No,” he murmurs. My breath catches as he rubs me again, arousal already soaking through my underwear. “I’m not.”
13
