I don’t seek Sienna’s eyes out until after the first few lines, and when I lip synch a promise about how I’m going to take some woman home and bend her over the countertop, I’m talking to her. Even from where she’s standing far away, I see her chest expand as she brings her fingertips to her mouth. By the way her jaws are moving, I know she’s got her teeth together. Fuck, I can practically hear them grinding over the sound of my own voice, and I vow to punish that perfect ass every time she does that with me tomorrow night.
And she’ll do it—there’s no doubt in my mind.
We go through the take twice more, and Sienna stays rooted to her spot, only leaving once to grab coffee for her boss. Her blue eyes never drop from mine, and when she sighs at the line where I swear I’ll make her mine, I know I’ve just accomplished it.
I know that I’ll possess her and afterwards, I’ll do something dangerous and stupid for a woman I’d known for forty-eight hours, for a woman who’s already managed to climb under my skin like no other before her.
I’ll keep her.
Chapter Eight
Sienna
The thirty hours left till dinner feel like some of the longest hours of my life, and I occupy myself with working as hard as possible (avoiding Lucas), sleeping (trying not to fantasize about Lucas), and school work (skipping over every Your Toxic Sequel song on my playlist as I study).
Lucas is still everywhere, though, and whenever I close my eyes or take a shower I can see his lips moving seductively to the sexy lyrics of “All Over You.”
By the time Thursday evening comes, I’m a nervous wreck. My roommate wanders into my bedroom as I’m applying my makeup.
“You’re red as a cherry, Sienna,” Tori points out as she slides down on to the edge of my bed. I glare at the mirror, and when she glances up, catching my reflection, she gives a careless shrug. “But if you want me to lie, I can do that too.” She clears her throat and adds, “You look awesome right now, roomie.”
“Don’t be a bitch.”
She sighs and stretches out on her stomach, keeping her eyes on the mirror. “Maybe I’m just jealous. I mean, what girl hasn’t dreamt about sexing up a rockstar?”
My hand jolts, and I barely miss spreading mascara across my left cheek. I toss the tube down on my dresser, deciding to pick it back up once Tori’s not around to make me twitch. “It’s dinner,” I remind her.
“With you as a dessert,” she immediately fires back, waggling her dark eyebrows, and I grunt.
God, why the hell had I told her that he’d said that to me?
“Besides,” Tori drawls, “I don’t know anyone who’d dress like that for only dinner.”
I flush from head to toe because as much as I hate to admit it, she’s right. The short black asymmetrical dress is classy, don’t get me wrong, but it’s the strappy black mile-high heels that all but scream, “Screw me, Lucas.”
My eyebrows knit together, and I glance behind me to meet Tori’s dark eyes. “Is it too much? I mean, I don’t do this much.”
Actually, I never do this at all, which is why I’m still stunned I’m going out tonight.
Tori forces her lips into a tight line, shaking her head. “No. I know exactly what you’re thinking, Sienna Jensen, and I’ll slap you in the head if you dare call him to cancel. I mean, it’s the exact same thing as meeting a guy at a bar. Except you don’t have beer goggles on. And it’s Lucas Wolfe.”
“Way to make me feel better,” I say in a flat voice.
She shrugs, flashing a giant grin as she pulls her fingers through her black hair. “That’s what I’m here for, babe.”
Lucas shows up fifteen minutes later, and Tori looks like she’s close to pummeling him when she lets him in. He drinks me in, starting from the top of my head—frowning at the sight of my hair which I’d put up in a messy updo—and pausing for a long time at my shoes.
“You look good . . .” he says, his voice soft, and I’m able to mentally add in the words that seem to hang in the air.
Enough to eat.
Dressed in dark jeans and a black Henley that hugs his muscles and exposes the tattoos on his wrists, he does too.
Lucas’s hand finds the small of my back as we take the elevator down to the ground floor, and he leads me to a sleek, blue Maserati. I pull in a breath through my teeth. “Nice,” I say, glancing up at him, and he gives me a cocky partial grin.
“Glad it meets your approval.” He opens the passenger door for me, but blocks me from getting inside, squeezing my body up against his. Dragging his fingertips through my red hair, he murmurs, “Don’t put your hair up around me, Sienna.”
It falls around my shoulders in a cascade of waves as I nod. “Okay.”
Lucas leans in close to me, dipping his mouth to my ear. My pulse goes into overdrive, and it’s an effort to keep my breath steady. “You look scared,” he whispers.
“I’m not,” I lie.
“I won’t hurt you.” His breath caresses my earlobe, my neck, and my bare shoulders. When he pulls back, the corner of his mouth is upturned. “At least not in a way that won’t make you come all over my bed.”
I’m shaky when he helps me into the Maserati, so I cross my legs at the ankle, falling back against the plush leather seats. Then he climbs into the driver’s side, giving me a look that holds so much promise that I clench my fingers around the fabric of my short black dress.
As he pulls the blue sports car into Los Angeles traffic, my phone hums in my bag, and I pull it out to find a message from Tori. I bite my lip to keep from laughing aloud hysterically.