him. After she’d been relentlessly tormenting him, nearly giving him a blow job mere hours ago? After more than hinting all day that she wanted him? She was giving Tyler her attention.
Alyssa stepped out of the tub and allowed Tyler to wrap the towel around her, draw her body against his. He slurped water off of her soft shoulder and groaned.
Motherfucking son of a bitch! Luc grabbed the door, barely resisting the urge to punch Tyler in the face.
Why hit the man because the woman they both wanted had chosen? If he should be angry with anyone, it was himself, for wanting her in the first place.
“Do whatever the fuck you want. Looks like you’re going to anyway.” Luc slammed the door and stalked out into the night.
NOT at all proud of himself, Luc stood across the street from Alyssa’s darkened house, whiskey bottle in hand, and waited. He’d been here for the past hour, and now that it was nearly four in the morning and he was well on his way to drunk and angrier than ever.
She’d chosen Tyler. Even now they were inside fucking like mad while he wandered the park, his proverbial dick in his hand, wishing like hell that he was in Tyler’s place. This, after Luc had turned her down more than once, fucking idiot that he was.
To make matters worse, he’d picked up a message from Emily earlier. Instead of being relieved to hear her voice, the high-pitched, happy-happy tone had been like a red-hot steel rod shoved through his brain. She’d invited him to a church picnic next weekend, and his first reaction had been dread.
What was the matter with him?
Alyssa Devereaux.
It had taken Tyler’s intrusion, Alyssa’s subtle rebuff, and his own intoxication to realize that maybe the best course of action was to fuck her and get her out of his system. Of course, that option wasn’t available just now since she was otherwise occupied.
Thank God he’d bought this bottle from Alyssa’s bartender after Deke’s visit.
What did Tyler do for her that got her off so satisfactorily? Was he an oral god? Was he exceptionally well hung? Luc made a face at the thought of Tyler’s man parts. The one thing he very much doubted was that Tyler could surpass his stamina. Luc knew he had the bouncer—and just about anyone else—beat at that game.
Not that he’d ever been proud of the fact he sometimes went into a sexual frenzy and didn’t emerge for hours . . . and didn’t ask a lover about her comfort or pleasure. He took and gave to her relentlessly until she was a slave to the clawing need. In his altered state, he lived for her fingernails in his back, her breathy pleas, and above all, her screams.
Suddenly, Alyssa’s porch light flipped on. The front door opened. Tyler stepped outside, and she emerged behind him, wearing a pale satin gown that flirted with her bare thighs, her hair spilling down her back like a shining beacon.
The bouncer reached the door of his truck, then turned. He cupped Alyssa’s shoulders, brought her against his big body, stroked the soft crown of her hair. She laid her head on his shoulder, looking perfectly comfortable in his arms.
Luc looked away and took another swallow of whiskey. The liquid crashed to the bottom of his stomach, burning. Or was his gut on fire because he kept playing the vision of Tyler fucking Alyssa over and over in his head?
No avoiding the truth now. Luc was so damn jealous he could hardly see straight. Wasn’t irony a bitch?
Alyssa straightened. Tyler murmured something, then kissed her forehead. She nodded—then stepped back.
Luc frowned. If they’d been burning up the sheets for the past hour, wouldn’t they part with a lingering kiss?
Finally, the other man hopped into his sleek black truck and drove off. Alyssa watched him turn the corner. Then she clapped eyes on his own SUV.
“Luc?”
Fuck . He should have left, driven off someplace so he didn’t have to see her with Tyler—and have her know that he’d been watching. But no, he’d been too
Alyssa stepped out of the tub and allowed Tyler to wrap the towel around her, draw her body against his. He slurped water off of her soft shoulder and groaned.
Motherfucking son of a bitch! Luc grabbed the door, barely resisting the urge to punch Tyler in the face.
Why hit the man because the woman they both wanted had chosen? If he should be angry with anyone, it was himself, for wanting her in the first place.
“Do whatever the fuck you want. Looks like you’re going to anyway.” Luc slammed the door and stalked out into the night.
NOT at all proud of himself, Luc stood across the street from Alyssa’s darkened house, whiskey bottle in hand, and waited. He’d been here for the past hour, and now that it was nearly four in the morning and he was well on his way to drunk and angrier than ever.
She’d chosen Tyler. Even now they were inside fucking like mad while he wandered the park, his proverbial dick in his hand, wishing like hell that he was in Tyler’s place. This, after Luc had turned her down more than once, fucking idiot that he was.
To make matters worse, he’d picked up a message from Emily earlier. Instead of being relieved to hear her voice, the high-pitched, happy-happy tone had been like a red-hot steel rod shoved through his brain. She’d invited him to a church picnic next weekend, and his first reaction had been dread.
What was the matter with him?
Alyssa Devereaux.
It had taken Tyler’s intrusion, Alyssa’s subtle rebuff, and his own intoxication to realize that maybe the best course of action was to fuck her and get her out of his system. Of course, that option wasn’t available just now since she was otherwise occupied.
Thank God he’d bought this bottle from Alyssa’s bartender after Deke’s visit.
What did Tyler do for her that got her off so satisfactorily? Was he an oral god? Was he exceptionally well hung? Luc made a face at the thought of Tyler’s man parts. The one thing he very much doubted was that Tyler could surpass his stamina. Luc knew he had the bouncer—and just about anyone else—beat at that game.
Not that he’d ever been proud of the fact he sometimes went into a sexual frenzy and didn’t emerge for hours . . . and didn’t ask a lover about her comfort or pleasure. He took and gave to her relentlessly until she was a slave to the clawing need. In his altered state, he lived for her fingernails in his back, her breathy pleas, and above all, her screams.
Suddenly, Alyssa’s porch light flipped on. The front door opened. Tyler stepped outside, and she emerged behind him, wearing a pale satin gown that flirted with her bare thighs, her hair spilling down her back like a shining beacon.
The bouncer reached the door of his truck, then turned. He cupped Alyssa’s shoulders, brought her against his big body, stroked the soft crown of her hair. She laid her head on his shoulder, looking perfectly comfortable in his arms.
Luc looked away and took another swallow of whiskey. The liquid crashed to the bottom of his stomach, burning. Or was his gut on fire because he kept playing the vision of Tyler fucking Alyssa over and over in his head?
No avoiding the truth now. Luc was so damn jealous he could hardly see straight. Wasn’t irony a bitch?
Alyssa straightened. Tyler murmured something, then kissed her forehead. She nodded—then stepped back.
Luc frowned. If they’d been burning up the sheets for the past hour, wouldn’t they part with a lingering kiss?
Finally, the other man hopped into his sleek black truck and drove off. Alyssa watched him turn the corner. Then she clapped eyes on his own SUV.
“Luc?”
Fuck . He should have left, driven off someplace so he didn’t have to see her with Tyler—and have her know that he’d been watching. But no, he’d been too
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