She tugged her arm
free. “I‟d better get ready.”
As she darted down the hall, Luc gave chase and pushed her against
the shadowed wall. “She is. And that‟s not a reflection on you. You‟re just
different.”
In other words, she’s not a stripper .
“Sure. Fine. See you downstairs in thirty minutes.” She eased out from
between the wall and his hard body, all but running to her bedroom, and
slammed the door.
Once inside the bathroom, she shut that door—locked it—then leaned
against it. And closed her eyes as tears spilled. She swiped them away
with an angry fist.
Fucking hopeless. She sucked at relationships. No, strike that. She‟d
never really had one. From age fifteen on, her life had been a struggle to
47
Shayla Black
make ends meet, put food in her belly and a roof over her head. She‟d
learned how to read people over the years, but not in a romantic capacity.
As far as she could tell, Luc was being honest with her. There was
someone else he thought was better for him.
How the hell did she compete with that? Should she even try?
Probably not, but something inside her kept screaming that she needed
him.
Luc admitted to wanting her more than anyone. It was a start. Maybe
they had more than great chemistry, and this was his body‟s way of saying
so. It was possible this other woman was “better” for him because Luc
knew her. With just one hot night between them, Alyssa realized he wasn‟t
familiar with her as a person.
She needed to keep enticing him; that was a given. Using her
advantage was critical. But she also needed to let him really know her. Not
easy for her, letting down her walls. Trust in general was an expensive
luxury—and a foolish one. But unless she wanted to lose Luc to this betterthan-her bitch, Alyssa must figure out how to let him deep inside more than
just her body.
THE silence in the SUV was choking. Alyssa kept biting her lower lip.
Her sunglasses protected against the morning glare—and prevented Luc
from reading her expression.
Whatever she was thinking shouldn‟t matter. But it did. Though she‟d
betrayed almost no emotion when he‟d mentioned his relationship with
Emily, he suspected that the words hurt. And he felt like shit. He wanted to
say something . . . but why? He was leaving in six days and would probably
never see Alyssa Devereaux again. It was better this way.
Except . . . she‟d worn another short skirt—white with some curlicue
pattern on it—and black garters. Her sheer black hose with a sexy seam
down the back nearly made him swallow his tongue. The red shoes were
pure fuck-me, as was the matching tank top that hugged her generous
breasts and trim waist.
48
Shayla Black
Right now he couldn‟t even remember what Emily looked like. And he
was pretty sure that in the face of someone stabbing “whore” into her
driver‟s seat, she would scream hysterically and cry.
Luc swore under his breath.
“With your job, you must have traveled all over the world,” Alyssa
offered.
As he cruised to a red light and stopped, he looked her way. She‟d
pondered a long time before asking him that question. Where was this
going? “Yes.”
“What‟s your favorite place?”
“You‟re seriously asking me about travel?” Not our chat in the hallway?
She bristled, eased back in her seat, looked away. “Just making
conversation.”
But why? She wasn‟t a talk-for-talk‟s-sake sort of woman.
“And you really want my thoughts on travel? Nothing else?”
“Never mind.” Alyssa turned her head to look out the passenger
window.
He winced. Maybe she‟d extended an olive branch to show that she
had no hard feelings. If so, he‟d just squashed her offering without thought.
He couldn‟t afford to be sexual with her—but he didn‟t have to be unkind.
“Barbados. I like warm weather. Their beaches are gorgeous.
Swimming with the turtles is mind-blowing.”
No reply.
“I went to culinary school in
free. “I‟d better get ready.”
As she darted down the hall, Luc gave chase and pushed her against
the shadowed wall. “She is. And that‟s not a reflection on you. You‟re just
different.”
In other words, she’s not a stripper .
“Sure. Fine. See you downstairs in thirty minutes.” She eased out from
between the wall and his hard body, all but running to her bedroom, and
slammed the door.
Once inside the bathroom, she shut that door—locked it—then leaned
against it. And closed her eyes as tears spilled. She swiped them away
with an angry fist.
Fucking hopeless. She sucked at relationships. No, strike that. She‟d
never really had one. From age fifteen on, her life had been a struggle to
47
Shayla Black
make ends meet, put food in her belly and a roof over her head. She‟d
learned how to read people over the years, but not in a romantic capacity.
As far as she could tell, Luc was being honest with her. There was
someone else he thought was better for him.
How the hell did she compete with that? Should she even try?
Probably not, but something inside her kept screaming that she needed
him.
Luc admitted to wanting her more than anyone. It was a start. Maybe
they had more than great chemistry, and this was his body‟s way of saying
so. It was possible this other woman was “better” for him because Luc
knew her. With just one hot night between them, Alyssa realized he wasn‟t
familiar with her as a person.
She needed to keep enticing him; that was a given. Using her
advantage was critical. But she also needed to let him really know her. Not
easy for her, letting down her walls. Trust in general was an expensive
luxury—and a foolish one. But unless she wanted to lose Luc to this betterthan-her bitch, Alyssa must figure out how to let him deep inside more than
just her body.
THE silence in the SUV was choking. Alyssa kept biting her lower lip.
Her sunglasses protected against the morning glare—and prevented Luc
from reading her expression.
Whatever she was thinking shouldn‟t matter. But it did. Though she‟d
betrayed almost no emotion when he‟d mentioned his relationship with
Emily, he suspected that the words hurt. And he felt like shit. He wanted to
say something . . . but why? He was leaving in six days and would probably
never see Alyssa Devereaux again. It was better this way.
Except . . . she‟d worn another short skirt—white with some curlicue
pattern on it—and black garters. Her sheer black hose with a sexy seam
down the back nearly made him swallow his tongue. The red shoes were
pure fuck-me, as was the matching tank top that hugged her generous
breasts and trim waist.
48
Shayla Black
Right now he couldn‟t even remember what Emily looked like. And he
was pretty sure that in the face of someone stabbing “whore” into her
driver‟s seat, she would scream hysterically and cry.
Luc swore under his breath.
“With your job, you must have traveled all over the world,” Alyssa
offered.
As he cruised to a red light and stopped, he looked her way. She‟d
pondered a long time before asking him that question. Where was this
going? “Yes.”
“What‟s your favorite place?”
“You‟re seriously asking me about travel?” Not our chat in the hallway?
She bristled, eased back in her seat, looked away. “Just making
conversation.”
But why? She wasn‟t a talk-for-talk‟s-sake sort of woman.
“And you really want my thoughts on travel? Nothing else?”
“Never mind.” Alyssa turned her head to look out the passenger
window.
He winced. Maybe she‟d extended an olive branch to show that she
had no hard feelings. If so, he‟d just squashed her offering without thought.
He couldn‟t afford to be sexual with her—but he didn‟t have to be unkind.
“Barbados. I like warm weather. Their beaches are gorgeous.
Swimming with the turtles is mind-blowing.”
No reply.
“I went to culinary school in
Similar Books
