would never have. Lucy’s
breasts were large and she wasn’t nineteen anymore so they weren’t nearly as
perky as Submissive Barbie’s either.
This was a mistake. Lucy had no business being with Dalton.
In his arms. In his truck. In his house. Definitely not in his bed. Men like
Dalton deserved to be with women who looked like Rachel, though her attitude
was too bitchy and she could use a dose of good, old-fashioned modesty. Still,
if judges were scoring the two women and announcing a winner, it was brutally
clear who it would be.
“Why the fuck are you inside my house?”
Rachel peeked up at him from under heavily mascaraed lashes.
“To please you, of course, like always.”
Lucy wondered if she concentrated hard enough on it, if she
could make herself implode in the next two seconds like a collapsing star.
“Like always?” Dalton ground out. “You’ve never been inside
my house when I’m not here. How did you… Never mind, I don’t have time for
this. Get up, get out of my way, put on some damned clothes, then we’ll talk.”
He took a step toward the stairs and Lucy was ready, again,
to object, but Rachel beat her to it.
“Perhaps you should put her on the sofa instead of carrying
her upstairs. I don’t want you to hurt your back. We can talk in your bedroom.”
How could some women say such hateful, manipulative things
while maintaining a tone of voice which suggested they were coaxing a timid
kitten with a bowl of milk? Not having wonderful control over her body and
emotions at the present, Lucy started to shake, though she wasn’t cold. “Please
put me down.” Her voice cracked on the last word.
Dalton stopped glaring at the beautiful, thin, naked woman
waiting to “please” him, and started moving up the stairs.
In a strong voice, Lucy demanded, “Put me down.”
His booted feet kept hitting the steps as he continued
climbing. “No. End of discussion.”
Well… What the hell could she say to that? At the first
doorway they came to at the top of the steps, Dalton used his foot to nudge
open the door. Lucy took in the sight of a huge unmade bed, deep-brown
comforter and tan sheets all twisted up in a knot at the foot like they’d been
in a fight the previous night and lost. Multiple pillows were piled at the
head.
Dalton settled her with her back against a mound of pillows
and straightened, looking down at her from his considerable height. Lucy stared
at the twisted mess on the foot of the bed.
He grabbed the comforter and pulled the twisted heap off the
bed before attempting to straighten it out. “I’m a dude and single so I don’t
worry about making my bed. This ain’t the Ritz so there’s no maid around to do
it, either.”
The sheet settled over Lucy’s lap and Dalton’s clean male,
sawdust-and-leather scent surrounded her. “If this were the Ritz, I think I’d
ask for a refund. My experience here so far has totally sucked.”
The comforter joined the sheet and Dalton tucked them both
around her legs before he swiped a gentle hand across her cheek and over her
jaw. “Don’t worry about her. She’s history. She was history before today, now
she’s the kind of history people burn books about just to make sure no one
remembers it existed.”
He leaned in, placed a gentle kiss on Lucy’s forehead and
walked out of the room, leaving the door open before descending the steps.
Tucked into the middle of the huge bed, Lucy sighed. Dalton
was downstairs kicking Submissive Barbie the hell out of his house, out of his
life, while Lucy lay tucked into his bed. And, she had to admit, if only to
herself, she liked being there. Damn.
Chapter Ten
Dalton fumed. What the hell had been going through Rachel’s
head? She’d never done something like this before and now was a piss poor time
to start. He should have cut ties with her, made it clear their arrangement was
over. They didn’t date, they didn’t meet in public and go to movies. They
fucked. Period. Always at his
breasts were large and she wasn’t nineteen anymore so they weren’t nearly as
perky as Submissive Barbie’s either.
This was a mistake. Lucy had no business being with Dalton.
In his arms. In his truck. In his house. Definitely not in his bed. Men like
Dalton deserved to be with women who looked like Rachel, though her attitude
was too bitchy and she could use a dose of good, old-fashioned modesty. Still,
if judges were scoring the two women and announcing a winner, it was brutally
clear who it would be.
“Why the fuck are you inside my house?”
Rachel peeked up at him from under heavily mascaraed lashes.
“To please you, of course, like always.”
Lucy wondered if she concentrated hard enough on it, if she
could make herself implode in the next two seconds like a collapsing star.
“Like always?” Dalton ground out. “You’ve never been inside
my house when I’m not here. How did you… Never mind, I don’t have time for
this. Get up, get out of my way, put on some damned clothes, then we’ll talk.”
He took a step toward the stairs and Lucy was ready, again,
to object, but Rachel beat her to it.
“Perhaps you should put her on the sofa instead of carrying
her upstairs. I don’t want you to hurt your back. We can talk in your bedroom.”
How could some women say such hateful, manipulative things
while maintaining a tone of voice which suggested they were coaxing a timid
kitten with a bowl of milk? Not having wonderful control over her body and
emotions at the present, Lucy started to shake, though she wasn’t cold. “Please
put me down.” Her voice cracked on the last word.
Dalton stopped glaring at the beautiful, thin, naked woman
waiting to “please” him, and started moving up the stairs.
In a strong voice, Lucy demanded, “Put me down.”
His booted feet kept hitting the steps as he continued
climbing. “No. End of discussion.”
Well… What the hell could she say to that? At the first
doorway they came to at the top of the steps, Dalton used his foot to nudge
open the door. Lucy took in the sight of a huge unmade bed, deep-brown
comforter and tan sheets all twisted up in a knot at the foot like they’d been
in a fight the previous night and lost. Multiple pillows were piled at the
head.
Dalton settled her with her back against a mound of pillows
and straightened, looking down at her from his considerable height. Lucy stared
at the twisted mess on the foot of the bed.
He grabbed the comforter and pulled the twisted heap off the
bed before attempting to straighten it out. “I’m a dude and single so I don’t
worry about making my bed. This ain’t the Ritz so there’s no maid around to do
it, either.”
The sheet settled over Lucy’s lap and Dalton’s clean male,
sawdust-and-leather scent surrounded her. “If this were the Ritz, I think I’d
ask for a refund. My experience here so far has totally sucked.”
The comforter joined the sheet and Dalton tucked them both
around her legs before he swiped a gentle hand across her cheek and over her
jaw. “Don’t worry about her. She’s history. She was history before today, now
she’s the kind of history people burn books about just to make sure no one
remembers it existed.”
He leaned in, placed a gentle kiss on Lucy’s forehead and
walked out of the room, leaving the door open before descending the steps.
Tucked into the middle of the huge bed, Lucy sighed. Dalton
was downstairs kicking Submissive Barbie the hell out of his house, out of his
life, while Lucy lay tucked into his bed. And, she had to admit, if only to
herself, she liked being there. Damn.
Chapter Ten
Dalton fumed. What the hell had been going through Rachel’s
head? She’d never done something like this before and now was a piss poor time
to start. He should have cut ties with her, made it clear their arrangement was
over. They didn’t date, they didn’t meet in public and go to movies. They
fucked. Period. Always at his
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