Loving Lucas Read online

  Karlie kicks off her black heels and gets to the stairs before me. Because the dress is so tight, she takes measured steps, her little round ass in my face. I’m drooling all over myself by the time we reach my office. That’s when I flip her around, nibbling her exposed shoulder, licking my way up the back of her neck. If she’s going out dressed like this, I’m going to give her something to look forward to when she gets home. I lock her against me and trace the curve of her hip with my hand.

  She leans into me and I slip my hands down her bodice, filling them with her creamy breasts. “Mine,” I whisper.

  She shudders in response and I remind her again.

  It’s a good five minutes before I let go and she faces me. Her full lips hypnotize me as I tackle her mouth with mine. “I want to be inside you, Karlie.” I kiss her earlobe.

  “If we do, I’ll never make it to the party.” She stands on her toes, wrapping her arms around my neck. “Teasing me isn’t helping—Marie is waiting.”

  “Let her,” I say nonchalantly, cupping her ass. “Something tells me she’d get turned on if she heard you scream.”

  She giggles. “Do I make a convincing Marilyn?”

  “Incarnate.”

  That makes her smile. “It’s time for me to go. See you after work?” She kisses my cheek, then turns to go.

  “Wait.” I grab her hand. “Cell phone?”

  “In my purse.”

  “Good. Be safe.”

  She departs, and now I wish more than ever I’d been wearing a Joe DiMaggio costume.

  —

  Alpha Delta House is located on Ocean Drive, a few blocks from school. We find a parking spot blocks away, then start the perilous high-heeled walk over asphalt and gravel. We encounter a wide assortment of costumes, including that psycho clown from American Horror Story, which makes me completely uncomfortable. As we approach the three-story, somewhat dilapidated mansion with nothing but windows and chipped paint on the façade, I notice the long line. Not wanting to carry anything, I didn’t bring a jacket, now realizing that was a big mistake.

  Cold wind whips off the Gulf of Mexico across the street, chilling me to the bone. Even the palm trees in the front yard are shivering. Temperatures are expected to drop into the low 40s by midnight. Great, I’ll catch pneumonia and die dressed like Marilyn.

  “Marie,” someone calls from the wraparound porch.

  She waves, taking hold of my arm. “Our way in.” She drags me around the people in line and we meet a guy dressed like Julius Caesar at the steps.

  She hugs the blond Roman, then introduces me. “Meet Karlie—or should I say, Marilyn?”

  He smiles. “I’m Tim, but call me Caligula tonight.”

  We shake hands.

  “Want to go inside?” he asks. “It’s too cold to stand out here.”

  “Please,” I beg, hugging myself. “And something good to drink.”

  Once inside, I’m impressed with the interior. The great room is spacious and opens into a formal dining room with a wood-burning fireplace. Stairs are to the left of the entry and people are draped over the banister, dancing and drinking themselves stupid. Speakers are mounted on the walls, and “The Beautiful People” by Marilyn Manson is playing.

  “Where’s the DJ?” I ask over the noise.

  “Upstairs,” Tim answers, ushering us through the crowd and into the kitchen.

  There are half a dozen girls mixing punch and dumping chips into bowls. Tim plants a kiss on the lips of a brunette dressed as a naughty nurse. “Marie and Karlie,” he says. “Meet my girlfriend—Donna.”

  We exchange smiles.

  “Name your poison,” he says.

  “Rum and Coke,” I respond.

  “Me too,” Marie adds.

  Once we have our drinks, Tim opens a door and points. “See the tent? That’s where the real party is. Have fun.”

  We follow a footpath to the tent and peek inside. Oh. My. God. It’s like another world. Is that a Champagne fountain? And a chef? I step inside, immediately enveloped by warmth and incense. Everywhere I look there are chaise longues and stools with toga-clad people lounging on them. My gaze is instantly drawn to a beautiful couple embracing on a couch—oblivious to the world around them.

  “Why didn’t you tell me about this part?” I ask.

  “We’re in the VIP tent—invitation only.”

  Or handpicked by Caligula. “I think Tim chose us.”

  “Hot is hot.” Marie grins, shameless as ever.

  She’s crazy, but I could definitely enjoy a plate of prime rib and some Champagne. One side of the space is dedicated to dancing. There’s a DJ booth in the corner and an array of light stands, including a smoke machine. The noise level is tolerable; Led Zeppelin is playing.

  I take a sip of my drink, following Marie deeper inside. She points out several frat boys, all dressed as gladiators or wearing togas. Somehow I feel overdressed, but the constant stares I’m getting let me know my costume is a hit. We end up at a table with a couple of other girls.

  A few minutes later, a server stops by.

  “Want a drink?” she asks.

  “Champagne?”

  “Sure.” She drops a cocktail napkin in front of me. “Anything else?”

  “A plate of prime rib and fried potatoes,” I add, feeling guilty for indulging.

  “Be right back.” She saunters off.

  “About time you ate something,” Marie comments. “You need to gain twenty pounds.”

  I lean close to her. “What are we doing here?”

  “Consider it an opportunity for scientific observation.”

  I take a moment to study the nearby male specimens. “You’re a chemist and I’m a political scientist.”

  She rewards me with a toothy grin, then points to a muscular gladiator. “That’s chemistry with legs.”

  I can’t help but admire him, too. I turn away the minute he catches my glance. Shit. Too late. He approaches, towering over our table and clearly interested in Marie.

  “Wanna dance?”

  Marie scoots her chair back. She’s obviously not interested in meaningful conversation. I sigh as they merge with couples on the dance floor. Luckily, the waitress returns with my food—something to keep me occupied. Of course the tender meat melts when it hits my tongue and I wash it down with sweet Champagne, licking my lips. I take another dainty bite.

  “Virgin girl?”

  I close my eyes and smile—Charles. He’s standing too close, and I can feel his hot breath on my shoulder. I twist around, catching his heated gaze. “Which Roman are you?”

  He chuckles. “Marcus Aurelius.” He tugs at his fake beard, then plants himself on the empty chair next to me, his eyes wandering to my cleavage. “Bet I can guess who you are.”

  “Up here…” I use both hands to gesture at my face.

  His head jerks up. “Shit, Augustine, you need to cover up.”

  “Blame Marie for my sudden exhibitionism. She insisted.”

  He smirks, stretching his legs out. “Where’s your boyfriend?”

  “Working the night shift.”

  “No psychos hiding in the wings?”

  “Nope—it’s safe to sit here.” I clasp my hands, setting them on the table. “What’s up with this tent? Doesn’t exactly scream frat boys.”

  “You’ve never heard about our Halloween tent?”

  I shake my head. “Urban legend?”

  “You could say that.” His expression hardens. “Who invited you here, Karlie?”

  “Marie’s friend, Tim.”

  “Fuck.” He glimpses over his shoulder. “I think I should escort you back to the house.”

  “Why?” Now I’m completely intrigued.

  “Girls like you don’t belong here.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” I straighten. “Wrong pedigree?”

  His eyebrows furrow. “It has nothing to do with money. Trust me.” He starts to get up.

  “I can’t leave—Marie is dancing.�
��

  I’m failing on every level to understand why he’s so uncomfortable with me being here, but he lowers himself. “We’ll wait until she’s done, not a minute more.”

  “You’re starting to scare me,” I confess. “What’s the big secret?”

  “Leave it alone.”

  “I’m sure one of your friends would be happy to share.” This time I rise, but he quickly clutches my wrist, pulling me close.

  “Explain.”

  “Don’t make me…just forget about it.”

  “Charles!” I stomp my foot. His refusal has the opposite effect; I want to know. “Drugs? Underage girls drinking?”

  “Incendiary accusations.”

  “If you don’t want me to know, maybe you shouldn’t dangle carrots in front of my face.”

  “I didn’t mean to.”

  “I won’t change my mind, so just spill or I’ll beat you senseless.”

  He smiles at my threat. It’s come down to a battle of wills. Although I’m pretty sure I can guess what he’s hiding.

  “Follow me.”

  We round the dance floor, stopping at a wall of brightly colored curtains. “Are you sure?” Why does he look so embarrassed?

  I nod and he parts the drapes. “Just a quick peek.”

  I look inside and my hearts stops. Charles doesn’t say anything, but does rest his hand on my arm. The air is smoky and smells like jasmine. Once my eyes adjust to the dim light, I can clearly see what it is: a sex room. Several naked women are paired with one or two guys, doing things together that I hold sacred. Bile rises in my throat and I retreat several feet, stunned and deeply offended.

  “It’s consensual, Karlie,” he says in a low, gravelly voice. “I warned you.”

  “B-but…” I can’t shake the mental image. And I’ll never look at Charles the same again. Never. “You participate?” It’s really none of my business, but I can’t remain friends with someone who does that.

  “Yes.”

  Oh. God.

  “It’s just mindless sex.”

  No. Those words sound too familiar. How could anyone do it? Sex means something. You can’t take it back. “I’m leaving.” I turn abruptly, heat flooding my body. I edge closer to the dance floor, searching frantically for Marie. After I spot her, I drag her away from her partner.

  “Karlie?”

  “Let’s go.”

  “Why?” She stops, refusing to budge.

  “You don’t want to know.” I’m echoing Charles.

  “The sex room?”

  Not Marie, too. “Please tell me…”

  “Oh, hell no.” She slaps my arm. “But I’ve always wanted to see what all the hype is about. Now I know.”

  Chapter 24

  I’m sitting on the front stairs of the Alpha Delta House with Brandon’s coat draped over my shoulders. He arrived an hour ago and offered to drive me home, but I don’t want to ruin his time with Marie. As long as I don’t have to see Charles or that tent again, I’ll survive. Maybe I’m a prude, but sex clubs aren’t something I’m accustomed to. I never imagined anything like that.

  “Karlie, can I speak with you?”

  I cringe on hearing Charles’s voice. He lives here, so I really don’t have a choice. I gaze up at him. “Do whatever you want.”

  He joins me on the stairs. “You didn’t give me a chance to explain.”

  I don’t want to hear what he has to say. He asked me out nearly every day—teased me relentlessly—called me virgin girl—embarrassed me. Was he recruiting fresh meat for his club? I shudder at the thought.

  “I won’t lie to you. We indulge in activities that are repugnant to some people. I’m a jock, Karlie, not a priest. As long as it’s off campus and no one gets hurt, what’s the problem? My parents make substantial donations to the school. I’m magna cum laude and play ball like a pro.”

  “So wealth and athletic talent buys you special privileges?”

  “It can.”

  “Pardon me if I’m not impressed. Why’d you pursue me if you have a collection of women willing to fuck you? Did you expect me…”

  “Don’t be silly,” he admonishes. “There are two types of women, Karlie. You know that.”

  “No, Charles, I don’t. Regardless of their willing participation, you’re still exploiting them—encouraging them to disrespect their bodies.”

  “Consensual sex isn’t exploitation.”

  I roll my eyes, growing more furious by the second. “Yes it is,” I argue. “I’m also certain of the fringe benefits, because I can’t imagine any girl risking her reputation and health—hell, her soul—to have sex with you without getting something in return.” It’s a pointless debate. Charles is a pig and I’m virgin girl. “Don’t ever talk to me again.”

  “You’re overreacting.”

  “No, I’m not. You’re everything I despise in a man.”

  He stares at me silently, cracking his knuckles. “Are you going to file a complaint?”

  My mouth drops open. “With whom? The church?”

  He shakes his head. “Your boyfriend.”

  Now he thinks I’m a snitch because I’m dating Lucas? “Don’t be stupid. I doubt there’s any city ordinance that forbids you from banging as many women as you can at once.”

  “I tried to get you out of there.”

  I laugh to myself, my face twisting in disgust. But he’s undeniably right. “I commend your effort.”

  He sighs, then gets to his feet. “All right, Augustine. I tried.” He disappears inside.

  I fish my cell out of my purse and dial Lucas.

  “Hello, baby. Having fun?” he asks.

  “No.”

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Come get me, please.”

  “Can you make it another hour?”

  “I’ll be waiting outside.” I disconnect and suck in a breath. I never want to celebrate Halloween again.

  —

  “Sorry you had to pick me up.” Karlie climbs into my truck.

  “There’s nothing to apologize for,” I say, concerned. “What happened?” I merge with traffic on Ocean Drive, headed home.

  She twists in the seat and stares at me. “Is there anything wrong with me?”

  I don’t know why she does it—constantly doubts her self-worth. “That’s a trick question, baby.”

  “I’m serious,” she says, finally buckling her seat belt. “Sometimes I feel so uncomfortable in my own skin. Do you know what I mean?”

  Willow made me feel like shit for nearly two years before we filed for divorce. If that’s Karlie’s problem, then I fully understand. “I do. But there’s nothing to be ashamed of, Karlie. What happened at the party?”

  “Sex.”

  “Excuse me?” I steer too far right, skidding on gravel.

  “Not me,” she clarifies. “But there was a party room in the VIP tent.”

  I gaze at her, then focus on the road again. “VIP tent?”

  “Where all the beautiful people hang out.”

  “Doesn’t surprise me they let you in.”

  She rewards me with a half-smile. “Sex means something.”

  “It does,” I agree wholeheartedly. “Especially with you.”

  “There was group sex—that’s what I was trying to say.”

  I take her hand and kiss it. “Wish I could erase it from your mind.”

  She sighs, staring out the window, lost in whatever world she hides in when she’s sad. That’s the part of Karlie I want to know most. I want to breathe life into all her hollow parts and see the glow of happiness on her face.

  I pull into the driveway. “Ready?” I open my door.

  “More than ready to shed this costume.”

  We go inside and she starts for her bedroom. “Wait.” I hold up my cell. “I need a picture first.”

  She poses, flashing me a seductive smile. I get three shots before she disappears.

  My phone chimes while it’s still in my hand. “Hello?”

 
“I’ve confirmed everything.”

  “Happy Halloween to you, too, Willow.” The woman is becoming a nuisance.

  “I called your house phone and she answered.”

  I can’t afford for her to find out about Karlie yet. “My maid?”

  There’s a long pause. “Maid?” she repeats disbelievingly. “Has your salary increased that much? Maybe my attorney should request higher child support payments.”

  “Jealousy doesn’t suit you, Willow. It never did.”

  “I seem to recall a hormone-saturated jock who wouldn’t let me out of his sight.”

  “I was in high school, thinking with my dick. I’ve changed.” I shake my head as I stomp to the kitchen to grab a Corona. “People change. Except you.”

  “Resorting to insults now?”

  “Whatever it takes to prove my point.” I blow out a breath. “I just worked a twelve-hour day; I’m ready to relax.”

  “Just wanted to let you know I’m contesting the Christmas visit.”

  “You can’t do that!” I shout. “Goddamnit—you won’t keep Alex from me.”

  The line goes dead.

  I slam my cell on the kitchen counter, then punch the wall. When I turn around, Karlie is standing in the archway, wearing a short cotton nightgown.

  “Willow?” she whispers.

  I nod, trying to keep my anger inside. “Seems we’ve both had a shitty night.”

  “What did she say?”

  I’m not sure I want to burden her with my custody issues. But if I’m going to invest my heart in this relationship, she deserves to know everything. “She’s obsessed with us, I think.”

  “Us?”

  “Did you pick up a phone call here the other day?”

  She mulls it over. “Yeah, but no one was on the line.”

  “She’s stalking—trying to find something to use against me in court.”

  Karlie sits on one of the barstools. “Have you disclosed anything about our relationship?”

  “Not yet—I needed time to think.” I swallow the rock-size lump in my throat, wondering if she thinks I’m an asshole. “I don’t trust Willow—she’s a pathological liar.”

  “What did she do?”

  “Everything she could to keep me apart from my son.” I suck down half my beer, then place the bottle on the counter. “She disappeared one night while I was working. I came home to an empty house.”