Leather & Lark (The Ruinous Love Trilogy, #2) (78)

Desire.

I lean in slowly, every heartbeat driving me closer until I can feel the heat of her unsteady exhalations against my cooling skin. “I am not ashamed, duchess.”

Lark holds my gaze and issues a dare when she whispers, “Are you sure?”

Consuming the little space that remains between us, I press my hips forward and thread one hand into her hair. Lark’s breath hitches when she feels my hard length against her stomach, my need for her painful, my cock begging to sink into her tight heat. “I cannot bear to hear about the way some other guy fucked my wife. Or the way she might have fucked him. Please. Not right now.”

Her lips part. Her brow furrows. Her grip on my arm tightens.

I lean closer still, touch my lips to her ear. With one long, slow thrust of my hips, I grind my erection against her. Lark presses into me in return. A whimper escapes her control. “It is agonizing, Lark. It is fucking torture to imagine. To know it’s not me. Don’t you understand …?”

When I pull away, I let my lips graze her cheek. Not a kiss, but a caress. A promise. That I’ll let her go. I’ll back away.

Except she doesn’t let me.

Lark moves with me, both hands gripped tight to my arms. She doesn’t let the space between us widen. There’s a plea in her eyes. Don’t back away.

“Lachlan,” is all she says, her eyes fixed to my mouth.

I should pry myself free. Maybe I’ve gone too far. I just can’t seem to make myself do it, even though I’m determined to earn Lark’s forgiveness before we start down another path. I gave her my word. But when she inches closer and my hand caresses her face, a touch she leans into, I’m afraid it’s a promise I’m about to break.

Lark rises on her tiptoes. Her scent envelopes me. Every breath she takes mixes with mine, becomes part of me.

I’m about to beg. For what I don’t know. For anything she’ll give me. For her to back away. I’m not sure what will come out of my mouth when I open it. “Lark, I—”

The door next to us swings open and crashes against the brick. Two men engrossed in an animated conversation stride into the alley. A third man remains in the doorway, his eyes shifting between me and Lark. A faint grin spreads across his lips, but there’s confusion in his eyes he can’t quite hide. A bit of jealousy too, I think.

“Hey, Lark. Right on time,” the guy says. His head tilts as he regards us. We still haven’t moved, and I realize how this must appear, Lark with her wide eyes and her mask of innocence so perfectly crafted, me with my leather jacket and Lark’s blond waves twisted in my tattooed hand. I probably look about ready to fuck her right here against this wall. I would do it too, if she asked me. Lift this dress and slide into her with a single thrust, and then—

“You okay?” the guy asks, and with an unsteady breath, I release my grip on Lark and take a step away. A crease notches between her brows and a flash of pain seems to flare in her eyes when she lets my arms go, but only because I leave her no choice.

“Yes,” she says, and clears her throat when that confirmation comes out breathless. “I’m great.”

“You sure?”

“Of course. Xander, this is my husband, Lachlan.” An electric charge bursts through my heart at the word husband. “Lachlan, this is Xander. He plays bass guitar and sings backup for KEX.”

I swallow my spiteful feckin’ glee and manage to trap it in a smirk that might come off as welcoming to someone who doesn’t know me. But Lark knows better. I can feel her warning glare drill into my temple as I extend a hand.

“KEX. Cool.” That’s it. That’s all I can manage. Anything more and I won’t be able to contain myself.

“Husband? That’s a wild turn of events, Lark,” Xander says as he releases my hand and pins his attention to her. “When did that happen?”

“October.”

“Huh. Didn’t hear about it at all.”

Lark shrugs and tugs me toward the door as Xander turns to lead us into the dark corridor. “Guess I was too busy making promotional posts for KEX to splash it all over social media,” Lark says.

I nearly fail to repress a snort as Xander gives her a questioning look over his shoulder. Lark just smiles innocently in reply, and I can tell he’s flummoxed. He strides a little farther ahead down the hallway and Lark squeezes my arm.

“What is it with you and KEX anyway?” Lark hisses.

I lean in and whisper, “Irish slang. Means underwear.”

She puffs out a little laugh as Xander pushes open a black door and heads into the shared dressing room. Lark stops at the threshold and I relinquish the instruments for her to set them aside. “Well, that’s ironic, seeing how I usually prefer to not wear any.”

She winks. I feckin’ die.

“Go on,” she says, amusement a flare behind her eyes. “Anyone gives you trouble, just say you’re married to the chick who likes to go commando and digs ass play. Bye.”

She wiggles her fingers as she waves and shuts the door in my face.

I’m still standing in the hallway like a feckin’ dumbass when the door opens again. She pokes her head into the hallway. “Oh, and don’t you dare open that present until I give you the bat signal or I swear to God, I will make your balls into snow globes. Okay, bye.”