Chapter 4 The Tightening Noose of Desire
Lucy woke to the soft hum of the coffee maker downstairs, her body still humming from last night’s garage standoff. The memory of Marcus’s clenched jaw, the way his eyes had devoured her despite his warning, sent a fresh wave of heat pooling low in her belly. She stretched under the sheets, fingers brushing her bare thighs, and smiled into the pillow. At twenty, she had always chased what she wanted, sex, thrill, the kind of raw release that left her shaking. But Marcus? He was different. Older, controlled, off-limits. That only made the ache sharper.
She slipped out of bed and chose her outfit with deliberate care: a cropped tank top that ended just below her breasts and the tiniest pair of cotton shorts that rode up with every step. No underwear. The mirror reflected a girl who looked innocent enough for a family breakfast but felt anything but. Downstairs, Elena was already dressed for work, kissing Marcus goodbye at the door. “I’ll be late tonight, big client meeting. You two okay holding down the fort?”
Marcus nodded, his broad shoulders filling the doorway. “We’ll manage.” His gaze flicked past Elena and landed on Lucy descending the stairs. The heat in his eyes was unmistakable before he masked it.
The kitchen felt smaller than usual, sunlight slanting across the marble counter where Marcus stood pouring coffee. Elena grabbed her keys, oblivious as ever, and waved. “Love you both! Text me if you need anything.” The door clicked shut, leaving silence thick enough to taste.
Lucy padded barefoot to the fridge, bending slowly to grab orange juice. Her shorts rode high, exposing the smooth curve of her ass. She heard Marcus’s sharp exhale behind her. Straightening, she turned with a sweet smile. “Morning, stepdad-to-be. Sleep well?”
He set his mug down harder than necessary. “Lucy.” The single word carried warning and want in equal measure. His late-thirties frame, tall, solid, those tattooed forearms flexing as he gripped the counter, looked tense. “We talked about this. Last night was a mistake. It stops.”
She stepped closer, close enough to catch the faint scent of his aftershave, and poured juice into a glass. “Did we talk? Or did you just tell me to behave?” Her hip brushed his as she reached for sugar. The contact sent sparks up her spine. “Because I’m not sure I want to.”
His hand shot out, fingers wrapping gently but firmly around her wrist. Not pulling away, just holding. “You’re twenty. I’m marrying your mother. This isn’t a game.”
Lucy met his hazel stare, heart pounding. “Feels like one. And you’re losing.” She twisted her wrist free, but not before letting her fingers trail lightly down his arm. The muscle jumped under her touch. When she sat at the table, legs crossed so the shorts hiked even higher, she caught him staring before he forced his eyes to his phone.
Elena had left a list: pick up wedding invitations from the printer, drop them at the venue for approval. “Marcus can drive you,” she’d texted. Lucy volunteered before he could protest, sliding into the passenger seat of his SUV in the same tiny outfit. The drive started quiet, radio humming low, but the air crackled.
At the printer, Lucy leaned over the counter to check the proofs, her cropped top riding up to reveal the underside of her breasts. Marcus stood behind her, close enough that she felt the heat from his body. “These look perfect,” she said, glancing back. Their eyes locked. For a second, his hand hovered near her waist as if he might steady her, or pull her against him.
In the car afterward, traffic crawled. Lucy shifted, letting her bare thigh press against the gear shift. “You’re quiet. Still mad about last night?”
Marcus’s knuckles whitened on the wheel. “Not mad. Fighting every instinct I have.” His voice dropped. “You’re beautiful, Lucy. And you know it. But this… it can’t happen.”
She turned in her seat, one knee drawn up, giving him a clear view between her legs. “What if it already is? In here.” She tapped her temple, then let her hand drift to his thigh, resting there lightly. He didn’t remove it. The muscle tensed beneath her palm, and she felt him harden slightly against his jeans. The power surged through her like a drug.
They pulled into the venue parking lot, empty except for their car. Marcus killed the engine and turned to her, chest rising fast. “Get out. We drop these and go home. Separate cars if I have to.”
Lucy didn’t move. Instead, she unbuckled and leaned across the console, her breasts brushing his arm. “You don’t want that. Admit it. You want to touch me. Feel how wet I’ve been since the garage.” Her voice was a whisper, bold and trembling with need. She took his hand, large, warm, calloused, and guided it slowly between her thighs.
Marcus froze. His fingers hovered at the hem of her shorts, inches from her bare, slick heat. “Jesus, Lucy…” Conflict stormed across his face, loyalty, lust, the weight of the ring he wore for her mother. His breath came ragged. For one heart-stopping moment, his fingertips brushed her inner thigh, so close she whimpered.
Then he yanked back as if burned. “No. Fuck, no.” He slammed the door open and stormed toward the venue office, invitations clutched like a shield. Lucy sat there, thighs slick, pulse roaring. He’d almost given in. The almost was almost enough.
The drive back was silent torture. Marcus stared straight ahead, jaw locked. Lucy stayed quiet, but inside she burned, frustrated, thrilled, more determined than ever. At the house, he dropped the box on the counter and headed for the backyard without a word. She watched from the window as he stripped off his shirt to mow the lawn, muscles rippling under the sun. Every swing of the mower looked like punishment.
Upstairs, Lucy locked her door and collapsed onto the bed. She shoved her shorts down, fingers plunging deep into her soaked pussy. “Marcus,” she moaned softly, imagining his thick cock instead, the way he’d almost touched her. She rode her hand hard, thumb circling her clit, hips bucking until the orgasm crashed through her, sharp, intense, leaving her gasping and trembling.
Afterward, she lay there, skin flushed, mind racing. He was cracking. The noose was tightening around both of them. Elena would be home late. The house would be theirs again tonight. Lucy smiled at the ceiling, already planning her next move, something bolder, something that might finally snap his control.
Downstairs, the mower stopped. Footsteps approached the stairs. Her heart skipped. The real test was coming.