She wiggled slightly into a more comfortable position before lightly running her nails over his forearm.
It was then that he braced for the inevitable questions. He’d seen on her face that she’d known something was wrong when he’d opened the door to her, and Luc figured at some point he’d have to answer for the fact that he’d just used her to forget his problems.
Just one problem, actually. A big one.
Like the fact that his father had paid off the media to not make a scandal out of the Shayna Johnson case.
His arm tightened against her stomach, but she didn’t stop the soothing motion of her fingers.
Incredibly, he wanted to talk to her about it. Not for advice, or sympathy, or absolution. But just to let someone in.
To let Ava in.
But he couldn’t.
Because at the end of the day, Ava Sims was a reporter.
Even worse, she was a reporter focused on him.
The irony didn’t escape Luc. No wonder his dad and brothers had flipped their shit when they’d learned that he’d found himself in Ava’s bed. His father had risked his own career to protect Luc from the very type of person who was currently cuddled against his side in outrageously sexy lingerie.
It also explained why they’d all been on suspiciously good behavior as they’d welcomed Ava into their little family fold.
The more information the Morettis spoon-fed her, the less she’d have to go digging.
And it was very, very important that Ava didn’t go digging.
It was bad enough that Lopez had let it slip about Mike being Luc’s former partner.
About Mike dying.
About Shayna dying…
He buried his face in her shoulder, and her fingers paused briefly before slowly moving upward so that her palm cupped his cheek.
He kissed it, and she gave a little sigh of contentment.
It wasn’t supposed to be like this. Hot, raunchy sex was supposed to be followed up with a shower and a beer and a good-bye.
Not cuddling and soft kisses and the urge to share his deepest, darkest secrets.
She turned her head slightly toward his. “Um, Luc. I have to pee.”
Sims.
Her unembarrassed announcement was his out, but damned if it didn’t make him feel oddly tender. He smiled against her hair, lifting his arm just enough so she could wiggle out from beneath it.
His cock was totally spent, but that didn’t stop him from watching her taut, tiny ass exit his bedroom.
He’d had plenty of gorgeous women, but none did it for him quite like Ava.
And not just physically.
Mentally.
Emotionally.
No.
He pushed the thought aside. She was not for him.
He was not for anyone.
Luc swore softly, punching a pillow out of frustration for thoughts he couldn’t yet sort out. He was tugging his jeans back up and buttoning them as Ava came back in.
Gone were the thigh-highs and garter belt. Back were the short shorts and blue top. The high heels were still on too, which was admittedly sexy as hell, and already his cock twitched at the memory of her standing in stilettos as he ate her out…
But Ava hated stilettos.
She only wore them for show.
And walking.
And since the show was over…
“You’re leaving?” His voice came out rougher than he meant it to.
Her brows snapped together in surprise. “Well, yeah? I thought…?”
Luc’s eyes narrowed. “You thought what? That I called you over here for a blow job and Victoria’s Secret fashion show, and then wanted you to walk-of-shame yourself home at six p.m. on a Sunday?”
Her confusion turned to irritation. “Hey, quit making it seem like I’m the tawdry one here. We’ve both agreed we’re not looking for a relationship. We both know that the sex is awesome. But you have to spend enough time with me at work, I don’t expect—”
“You hungry?” he asked, pushing past her toward the kitchen.
She followed him, and he expected some snappy comeback, but she remained silent.
Silent and Ava. Not a common combo. Probably not a good one either.