Tuesday, December 16, 2014

Completed: Chapter Fifteen

Completed: a Devoured novella
Chapter Fifteen

Unlike the last time I went to Atlanta with Lucas, the rest of our trip goes down without a hitch. I have dinner with his parents and Kylie the next evening and then he takes me on a tour of the places that shaped the early days of Your Toxic Sequel—the underground club where the band played their first show and the music store where he picked up his favorite guitar. When I leave him on Monday morning, I’m alone, but I know we’ll be together again soon. As bummed as I am about returning to Nashville without him, I am thankful to be back. Not only have I received a ton of new emails about wardrobe consulting for the holiday season—this is a big thing for me since I’d lost a couple clients early this fall—I also know it’s time I confront my mother about the entire ex-boyfriend-at-Thanksgiving dinner fiasco.

Luckily, I don’t have to wait too long because Mom is smoking her Marlboro’s outside when the taxi driver drops me off at Gram’s cabin Monday afternoon. My grandmother’s trusty old Mercedes isn’t in the driveway, which means I have Mom all to myself.


“Is this a habit of yours?” she calls out over the sound of the cab pulling off. Rocking the porch swing back, she takes a deep drag of her cigarette and narrows her eyes at me as I walk slowly up the front steps. When I lift my eyebrow, she elaborates, “Just picking up and leaving to chase after your rich boyfriend? It must get exhausting, baby girl.”

My hand freezes on the doorknob and my own eyes narrow into tight slits. “For starters, your hot and cold act is getting really old. And secondly, my rich fiancé is the reason why you get to spend your days chain smoking. But to answer your question, yeah. I’m happy to follow that man anywhere.” When I enter the house, Mom is right behind me. She slams the door, and I suck in a deep breath. Turning around, I throw my oversized duffle bag on the hardwood foyer floor. “I’m sick of this. You’re acting like a child—a spoiled one at that. Do you realize that you’re an adult? That you have grown-ass kids? It’s time to grow up and stop the bull.”

“Aren’t we bitchy today. Can’t handle a little joke about—” Mom clears her throat before sarcastically whispering, “Lucas-Fucking-Wolfe.”

“Trust me, I can. But what I’m not going to deal with are your games.” I cross my arms over my chest. “I was completely blindsided when you invited Preston to dinner, and—”

“I was testing a theory.”

“Excuse me?”

She shoves her half-empty packet of cigarettes into her jacket pocket and hangs it up on the coat rack by the door. When she starts to walk toward me slowly, I brace myself for whatever bull she’s about to chuck in my direction. “You swore up and down Preston was the love of your life. I needed to see how you’d react to him, if what you have with Lucas Wolfe is nothing but hero worship.”

By the time the last word is spoken, she’s a few inches away from me—close enough for me to reach out and slap her, the way my palm is itching to. We’re both quiet, standing beneath the foyer lights, and what she’d just said tumbles around in my head. She was using something I’d said before I turned eighteen against me. And hero worship? She might as well have flat out called me Lucas’ number one groupie.

Before I can stop myself, I throw my head back and laugh. I’m still laughing when I turn away from my mom and head upstairs toward my attic bedroom—the one that she took over upon her return to Gram’s house. And I’m laughing when I start to grab some of my clothes—which are intermingled with hers—from the closet.

Of course she follows me, but I keep my back turned to her when she asks, “What are you doing, Sienna?”

“Where’s Gram?” I counter.

“If you leave, you’re gonna break—”

“Don’t even try that with me,” I snap, grasping a pair of jeans close to my chest. “I lived in California for years before I moved back. The only thing that’s going to break Gram’s heart is if I stay here and end up choking the everliving piss out of you.”

Mom gasps, though I’m not sure if she’s truly shocked or if she wants me to feel bad. At the moment, I don’t care. “Learn some respect, you little bitch. You can’t talk to me like that.”

“Right.” I grab my old Coach luggage from the bottom of the closet and begin stuffing items in it. “Because you raised me so much better than that. You’ll have to excuse the sass, Mom, but there’s only so much one person can take before they don’t give a shit.”

She doesn’t respond, but as I finish loading my bag, I hear her shuffling her feet. “She’s at a doctor’s appointment,” she finally says. Because I don’t acknowledge her, she forcefully repeats, “Your grandmother is at a doctor’s appointment.”

Hoisting the bag on my arm, I stand upright and turn around to face my mom with a steely look. Part of me had hoped to find regret or apology in her expression—even a little—but I’m disappointed to see her lips curled in a frown. A disgusted frown. The same look she wore time and time again when I was a kid. Back then, that dispassionate look would make me cry, but now I straighten my spine. My chest hurts—God, does it hurt—but I don’t want her to see that she’s affected me.

“I don’t understand you,” I say through clenched teeth. “I want to. I want to be this big happy family, and I want us to work through all these problems because I don’t want to have regrets, but I don’t understand you.”

“Let me guess, you want to be like the Wolfe family?” she demands, stepping aside as I approach the door.

Squeezing the handle of my bag for support, I walk by her, making sure my blue eyes lock with her green when I say, “No, just a functional family. And for the record, my relationship with Lucas-Fucking-Wolfe is one hundred percent real.” 

Monday, December 8, 2014

Completed: Chapter Fourteen

Completed: a Devoured novella
Chapter Fourteen

Every inch of my body is on fire by the time we reach our hotel, and I’m shocked I can still stand upright while Lucas escorts me through the lobby. He’d spent every second of the ride back teasing me to the point of a massive orgasm, and the moment I was about to let go, he’d conveniently pulled the car up to the valet. Leading me past the check-in desk, he touches the small of my back, his expression unreadable as someone—obviously one of his fans—takes a photo of us from afar.

“That doesn’t bother you?” I question softly, which causes the corners of his mouth to lift in a smile that makes my heartbeat race.

“What bothers me is the fact your panties are still on.”

God, he knows how to make my throat go dry with just a handful of words. Staring up at him from under my lashes as we enter an elevator that’s currently occupied by another couple, I breathlessly reply, “Honestly, I’m surprised they’re not in your pocket.”

Lucas’ laugh is low and inviting, and I don’t miss how the woman standing in the corner lifts an eyebrow appreciatively at him. I grip his elbow a little tighter; position my body so that I’m partially blocking her view.

“Next time,” he promises.

The other woman releases a little cough, and I press my lips together to hold back the smile threatening to split my face. Finally, the other couple exits the elevator, and as soon as the doors close, Lucas grabs me to him, his large hands cupping my butt through my dress.

“I hate you in clothes,” he complains, resting his forehead to mine. His messy dark hair falls into both our faces, and I can’t resist pushing it back.

“I—” I begin, but the elevator dings, signaling we’ve reached our floor, and his hazel eyes seem to darken in anticipation. “Well, hell, looks like you won’t be hating my clothes much longer.”

Without warning, he picks me up, and I feel lightheaded when his mouth demands my attention, his tongue parting my lips insistently. Warmth pours through me, settling in my core. He pulls away, and it takes me a moment to realize we’re in the entryway of our room.

“I’m impressed, Mr. Wolfe,” I say as he sets me down and shuts the door. “You can carry me, turn me into a wobbly mess with your lips, and open a door all at the same time.”

“I’m fucking talented,” he drawls.

“Cocky bastard.” I start to straighten the hem of my dress, but he stops me. Nudges the silky black fabric a little higher until it’s bunched around my waist.  

“Don’t even waste your time with that.” Cornering me against the door, he reaches behind me, undoing my zipper carefully. My breathing is slow, pleading, and it only intensifies when his fingers splay across the bare skin of my back. In one quick motion, he drops the dress around my feet. Leaning away from me, he tilts his head to the side, his beautiful eyes examining me so carefully that I feel my skin flush under his scrutiny.

“What?” I ask huskily, glancing down at the paisley print carpet.

Grinning, he cups my face. “I’m trying to decide how I want you.”

“How you want me?” I repeat, taking a step forward so that my breasts press up to his fully clothed chest. He nods, and I shake my head. “What about how I want you?”

He sucks in a breath. “Fuck, Red, say that one more time.”

Clearing my throat, I throw my long red strands back and meet his gaze. “What about how I—” I begin, but my words are lost when he grabs my hand and presses it to his cock, which is rock hard in his jeans. Damn. “I swear, I hate clothes just about as much as you do.”

I watch as he sheds every inch of clothing, leaving them in a pile on the floor next to my discarded dress. “Better?” he says with a teasing grin, and I bob my head enthusiastically. “Good.”  He lifts me up again, straddling my legs on either side of him, and I dig my fingers into the tattooed skin of his shoulders when I feel his thick erection against my center.

I breathe out a curse.

And he pushes a little deeper inside me.

“Is this how you want me?” he demands, and when I shake my head, he pulls my hips down slightly. I moan. Tighten around him. “How do you want me, Red?”

I feel my shoulders touch the door he had me pinned against just a few minutes ago, and I arch against him. “I want you—” Once again, he cuts me off by doing something that’s positively earth-shattering to my body—he rubs my clit with his thumb and forefinger, which makes my legs tremble around him. “Ohhhh.”

“You want me … ohhhh?” he repeats. Finally, he bucks his hips, filling me completely. I grind my teeth. He mocks me, “Fuck, Sienna, you’re so eloquent.”

“Smartass,” I manage to say despite the hum of desire spreading through my body. “I want you everywhere, Lucas. I want every part of you. And I want you to have every part of me.”

Keeping his eyes locked with mine, he takes control of my body, his thrusts rhythmic, hypnotizing, and I am lost in him. When I finally let go—with one of my hands gripping his shoulder and the other pressed against the door behind me—he kisses me long and hard.

His cock is still buried deep within me as he carries me to the bed in the center of our room, and I’m still shaking from the orgasm when he positions me on top of him.

When my lips part to speak, he presses his thumb against them and moves his head to each side. “You asked for everything, Si. That’s what I’ll give you.”

Monday, December 1, 2014

Completed: Chapter Thirteen

Completed: a Devoured novella
Chapter Thirteen

For what seems like hours—instead of thirty seconds, max—I sit with my back uncomfortably straight, staring up at Cilla. With her hands on her hips, and her lips twisted into a smug little grin, I wonder what she’s thinking.  Finally, I narrow my eyes and ask, “I don’t suppose you care that I hate being called Pepper?” I ask.

“Nope.” She steps around our chairs and chooses the seat on the opposite side of Kylie. Lucas’ sister makes a sound of disagreement. “Don’t be a bitch, Kylie,” Cilla says before telling me, “Besides, Sienna, it’s not like the Pepper thing is an insult.”

I start to speak, but Kylie beats me to the punch. “What the hell do you want, Cilla?”

The other brunette twirls a long strand of her ponytail around her finger and bites her bottom lip. At last, she shrugs. “I’m hiding from someone.” When I release a little noise, she looks at me, grinning. I’m struck by the fact there’s no malice in her expression. “Apparently, my … friend doesn’t have as much appeal when the beer goggles come off.”

  “Nice,” I say, my voice a little more sarcastic than I want it to be. I can’t help it—most of my encounters with Cilla have been anything but civil, so it’s always weird to talk to her when she’s not treating me like a piece of lint on her jumpsuit. “So you thought you’d—”

“Red?” I hear Lucas’ voice call my name, and I look to my left to see him tentatively coming toward the pool area. He glances from me to Cilla and then to his sister, thinning his hazel eyes. “Is everything alright?”

Cilla’s eyes are closed when he comes right up on us, but the sound of his footsteps causes her to lift her hand. “Relax, relax. I came in peace.”

“Cilla, there’s not a goddamn part of you that’s peaceful,” he says, and she laughs. I’m not exactly sure he meant that as a compliment, but she’s smiling when she finally opens her eyes and looks at my fiancé.

“I’m avoiding Tyler,” she tells him, and he nods in understanding.

“Now it makes sense.”

Tyler. I let the name rattle around my head for a few seconds, then I face Cilla with a wide stare as soon as I realize she’s talking about Your Toxic Sequel’s tour manager.

Pressing her lips together, she jerks her head to each side. “Kylie, Pepper,” Cilla starts, her voice dangerously low. “If you say one fucking word about it…”

I shoot a surprised look up at Lucas, who looks like he’s second away from laughing. “Ah, Cilla, calm down.” He motions me to him, and I get up from my seat to join him. Cilla’s gaze trails over us, and a flash of jealousy crosses her blue-green eyes before she looks away. Lucas drops his lips to my ear. “Red,  there’s a few people I want you to meet before we have to go.”

“You’re not leaving already, are you?” Kylie wrinkles her nose and then shoots a look toward Cilla. “If she’s bothering you, I swear I can get rid of her.”

Surprisingly, Cilla doesn’t respond, and I wonder if she’s losing her taloned touch. She had no problem chiming in with snarky responses when I tagged along on their tour this summer.

“We have plans,” Lucas says.

“And that would be?” Kylie probes.

“For you to mind your damn business, Ky, and let me worry about my own shit.” Lucas pulls me to his side, his fingers caressing my hip and Kylie rolls her eyes.

“And here I was thinking we’d have a nice family night out.” Letting out a dramatic breath, she starts to get up, prompting Lucas and I to both step forward to help her. She grips the edges of her seat and blows a blue streaked strand of hair from her eyes. “You both realize that I’m not that knocked up, right?”

When Cilla mutters something that sounds like “I can’t tell,” I give Kylie a little smile. “Maybe I just wanted a reason to touch your stomach,” I say as we walk back toward the house and she throws her head back, laughing.

“Touch it anytime you want, but be careful.” She leans forward, glancing around me to give Lucas a meaningful look. “It might be in the water.”

At her mention of me ending up pregnant, I feel my face redden, and even though I’m staring straight ahead, I can see Lucas’ grin out the corner of my eye. Kylie’s words have definitely brought up a good point, though. Lucas and I have never actually sat down to talk about kids in our future, and it’s obviously one of those important subjects that needs to be approached before the “I do’s” are said.

I’m deep in my thoughts for the remainder of our time at the party, but when we’re in the car on the way back to the hotel, I turn to him and immediately blurt what’s on mind.

His grin from earlier returns, and I feel the pit of my stomach clench. Damn, the way he’s looking at me always manages to mess with me. “Hell, yes, I want children with you, Sienna.“ He touches my thigh, strokes his thumb over my smooth skin, causing my breath to catch. “Was there ever a doubt in your mind?”

“No. Yes, I—”

His hand moves a little higher, his fingers hooking under the fabric between my legs, and I squeeze my legs around his wrist. “Do you want a baby with me, Red?”

“Yes.” It comes out almost pleadingly, and I quickly correct myself. “After the wedding, I mean. After—”

Lucas’ knuckle brushes my clit, and I grip either side of the leather seat. “I know what you mean, Sienna,” he says, and I can feel his stare burning into the side of my face. “So in the mean time, I’m going to spend every second I can getting as much of you as possible.”

He strokes my center a little harder, and I bite down on my tongue. “Starting now?” I say at last, sounding like I’m seconds away from floating away.

He chuckles, and I feel the car accelerate, feel his fingers move faster too. “That’s the fucking plan, Red.”

Monday, November 24, 2014

Completed: Chapter Twelve

Completed: a Devoured novella
Chapter Twelve

“Thank you for bringing me here. And I’m sorry for my mood lately,” I tell Lucas, catching his nearly naked reflection in the mirror that hangs on the back of our hotel door. It’s been two days since the disastrous Thanksgiving dinner, and I’m still apologizing, even as we prepare to head to the holiday party he asked me to go to this morning. The fact that he presented me with plane tickets to Atlanta immediately after I said yes told me he’d been planning to whisk me away from Nashville for at least a week. Not that I’m complaining. I welcome this escape from my mother, from the smug grin that flits across her face whenever she defends her decision to invite my ex to dinner.

I scowl at my reflection.

“Ugh, I need to stop letting my mom screw with me. I mean, I get to see Kylie tonight. And be alone with you later.”

Leaned against the front of the fully stocked minibar, Lucas releases a chuckle and shakes his head, his mess of wet dark hair falling in his beautiful face. As he strides toward me, he shoves his unruly locks back so our eyes lock. He stops once he’s behind me, skimming his hands from my waist to my hips and back up again.

“Don’t bring that woman in here with us,” he whispers, dropping his full lips to my temple. “In fact, if you mention her one more time—” Instead of telling me what he’ll do, he teasingly shows me, giving my ass a little smack that makes me gasp.

I swear, getting spanked shouldn’t feel so good.

“You’re getting me wet,” I manage to say through my breathlessness, and when his thick brows lift and his grin broadens, I quickly correct, “My dress, Mr. Wolfe. Your chest is wet and you’re getting it all over me.”

Giving me an appreciative look, he backs away from me and studies my backside before motioning for me to turn around to face him. I do, and he slowly drinks in the sight of the coral-colored bandage dress. It was another surprise from Lucas today—a designer that I’ve always wanted to wear—and I’m already attached to the sexy little number. “I want to tear it off you. God, the effect you have on me, Red…”

I rest my shoulders against the mirror behind me and shake my head. “If you even think about ripping this dress, I’ll—” But he tugs me to him, his strong hands on either side of my butt and his intense eyes staring down at me. “Don’t look at me like that.”

“Fuck, Red, I’ll always look at you like this.” His mouth moves over mine, tasting slowly. An agonizing, sensual dance. When he draws away, his eyes are squeezed closed. Taking my hand in his, he presses his cock against my palm, and my throat goes dry. “We show up, we mingle, and then you’re all mine.”

This is the second time we’ve been to a party in Atlanta—the first was several months ago—but this time instead of a night club, it’s being held at a swanky Buckhead house that Kylie tells me a few seconds after her brother and I arrive belongs to the CEO of the band’s record company. Hooking her arm through mine, she starts to drag me off, giving her brother a death glare when he tries to protest.

“Good god, Luke, you can go without her for five minutes. Go talk to Wyatt or find Cal,” she tells him over her shoulder.

He responds with a dark look that stomps all over the one she’s giving him, but she pulls me around the corner to where she grins at a bartender. I shoot her a worried glance. “Um, Kylie—”

“Oh, relax, I wouldn’t dream of it,” she says, rolling her chocolate brown eyes. To the bartender, she sweetly asks, “Can I get a virgin Bloody Mary with a ton of olives?”

After I ask for the same—but with a double shot—I turn to her. “How was Thanksgiving at the happiest place on earth?”

She tilts her face up to look at me, the corners of her eyes crinkling because she’s smiling so hard. “Really, really happy.”

“If you keep that up, you’re going to break your face.”

She drops the smile but then laughs in earnest. “Brenna had a good time, so that’s all that matters.” She spends the next couple minutes giving me the rundown on her mini-vacation with Wyatt and her stepdaughter. Once we have our drinks and as we walk to the pool—which seems to be the quietest part of the house—she finally says, “Your mom is on my shitlist.”

“Join the club,” I laugh bitterly. “Your parents probably think we’re all kinds of messed up.” Lucas had already mentioned visiting his parents tomorrow and I’m dreading it.

We sit side-by-side on teak lounge chairs. “Actually, my parents had nothing but good things to say about you. I wouldn’t have known what happened if Lucas hadn’t told me.”

I should feel relief at Kylie’s words, but it doesn’t change the awkward tension that hung over the entire table two nights ago. “He thinks Mom is jealous of me and Gram,” I say quietly.

She pops an olive in her mouth and nods. “Sometimes, he’s right. Believe it or not, this is one of those times I completely agree with him.”

“I just wish that—” But then I catch myself and rake my hands through my hair, probably ruining the loose red curls I worked hard to perfect tonight. “Not even an hour ago I promised Lucas I’d stop talking about that woman, and yet here I am—”

“Kylie Wolfe,” a voice calls out, interrupting me, and I bite the tip of my tongue at the instant recognition. Kylie and I both look up to see Cilla Craig coming our way. Like always, she looks beautiful with her black hair swept up in a high ponytail and her curves poured into a sexy black jumpsuit. I try to forget she and Lucas were briefly involved. Stopping right in front of us, she puts her hands on her hips and sweeps her blue-green eyes over me. “Didn’t realize you were coming, Pepper.”

Wednesday, November 19, 2014

Completed: Chapter Eleven

Completed: a Devoured novella
Chapter Eleven

There’s a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach as Preston and I stare back at each other. He was my first love—hell, my first lover—and up until thirty seconds ago, I never thought I’d see him again. Sure, he was from Nashville too. But it’s a big city. None of our friends are the same.

And yet, my mother had managed to conveniently run into him at the store.
As if on cue, a smile splits his face, and he takes a step closer toward the kitchen. “Sienna. You look just like—”

I shove past my brother, holding up my hand. “What are you doing here?” I cast an anxious glance at the family room entry, and I’m thankful the volume of the football game is turned on high. “We agreed never to see each other again.”

He runs his hand sheepishly over his short black hair and shrugs, his expression giving me a clear view of his dimples. When I was in high school, that look had been my downfall, and I had been eager to please him. Now, I don’t feel a thing other than irritation as I stand beneath the bright lights of the foyer, jabbing my tongue in my cheek.  “Preston?”

“I’ve been talking to your mom lately and she brought up Thanksgiving. When she asked me what I was doing, I thought about all the good times we used to have together. Remember that Thanksgiving in New York?” When I nod lamely, he continues, “It made me think. What if I hadn’t been such a dick in the end, if maybe—”

“You know I’m engaged, right?” When he nods slowly, I carve my fingers through my red hair then wring my hands together. “You didn’t think my fiancé might be around?”

“Your mom said he was in Atlanta.”

Of course she did.

“My mom lied,” I snap. Then a thought hits me, and I cross my arms over my chest and release an outraged breath. “And even if he hadn’t been here, that wouldn’t make me—”

“Lucas Wolfe is here now?” Preston looks impressed, and I roll my eyes. “Damn, Sienna. You were always good, but for you to—”

“You might want to cut yourself off right there before I have to break your fucking teeth.”

Preston and I whip around at the same time to see Lucas leaning against the doorframe with his hands jammed in the pockets of his jeans. I’m not fooled by the sardonic smile twisting his lips. This situation is not amusing to him whatsoever. His eyes are hard, and as he moves his gaze from Preston to me, I clear my throat.

“Lucas Wolfe, this is Preston Lewis.”

Preston,” Lucas repeats, each syllable drawn out.

“My mom invited him to join us for Thanksgiving dinner,” I add through clenched teeth. I shoot a glare at the kitchen. God knows what Mom is in the kitchen telling Shannon Wolfe at this very moment. “Preston and I … we dated briefly.”

“If briefly means all through high school and college,” Preston says, leaning forward to shake Lucas’ hand. Lucas stares at it for a moment before pushing away from the doorway to come stand behind me. His hand on my hip is comforting, but I’m still shaking. How could my mom do this to me?  I was seconds from thinking she’d let this day happen without any bull and then she had to go shit all over it before we could even get started.

The only thing that could make this worse is if one of Lucas’ one-night stands—or worse, Cilla Craig—showed up.

Shuddering, I tune back into the conversation just in time to hear Lucas telling Preston. “Whether you stay or not, Sienna’s mine. That shit ain’t changing. “

“Maybe, but just remember—”

“Preston Lewis! What a surprise to see you here,” Gram speaks up.

This time, I’m thankful for my grandmother’s intrusion, because I can already guess the next words to come from Preston’s mouth.

Just remember I banged her first.

And that is the last thing Lucas needs to hear with his parents in my house.

I shoot Gram an appreciative smile, noticing as her own blue eyes narrow at my ex-boyfriend. When she flicks a questioning stare at me, I mouth, “Rebecca.”

Gram’s lips thin into a disapproving line. And then, because she doesn’t have it in her to be rude to anyone, she smiles at Preston. “Come on, we better go to the dining room.” Turning to look over her shoulder, she teases Lucas’ dad, “Danny, might as well have some food to get ready for that loss.”

My grandmother and ex disappear into the dining room with Mr. Wolfe following a few seconds behind them. He’s grinning broadly and shaking his head. “Your grandma is—” He freezes and looks between Lucas and me, his brows tugging together. “Is everything alright?”

“It’s fine,” Lucas promises, but his smile is tight. “Give us a few?”

Mr. Wolfe nods, and once he’s out of sight, out of earshot, I let my shoulders sag and slowly turn toward him. I stare down at the floor, squeezing my eyes together to stop the tears burning the corners. “Whenever I think she’s not going to do something else crazy, she pulls something like this. Why in the world would she ask him here? And why would he even come?”

“Oh, Red.” Lucas releases a breath, and I feel his strong hands on my shoulders. “Look at me.” When I don’t, he kisses me hard, not pulling away until I’m breathless. “If you could only see yourself the way I do you’d know why she likes to fuck with you, why he was dumb enough to bring his ass here, knowing that you’re with me.”

“What reason would that be?” I murmur.

Lucas strokes his fingers over my shoulder before cupping the back of my neck. With his other hand, he feathers his thumb across my cheek. “You shine, Red. People do crazy things simply to be around you. I know—I’m one of them. Your grandmother loves you and that threatens Rebecca. You’re with me, and that dumb shit Parker—”

“Preston,” I correct, laughing and he kisses me again.

Preston he’s threatened by the thought of you being with someone else. And you’re with me, Sienna. There’s no fucking way I’m letting you go ‘cause of a little prick like that.” Drawing away from me, Lucas skims his fingers down my arm and takes my hand. He starts to tug me toward the dining room, but I shake my head.

“You’re wrong, you know?”

“About what?”

“Preston. It’s been years since we were together.”

Now it’s his turn to laugh—a sound that breaks through the panic still settled in my chest. “Damn, Red. Haven’t you figured out by now that you’re worth fighting for?”