Page 81 of Wicked Lord

This was going to be a long weekend. At least it would be a nice distraction from the storm brewing with this whole Susanna and Micah shit. I had yet to search through the jump drive I stole from the archives. Part of me feared it would reveal Susanna’suntimely demise was a direct result of my horrible mistake with Peter.

Could I really tell Micah his friend was dead because of me?

“We should have left earlier.” Lorelei bit her bottom lip and stared out the window at the holiday traffic. “We’re totally going to be late for dinner—if we make it at all.”

All my dark thoughts evaporated at the nervous flutter in her voice. “We’ll make it, blondie,” I assured her. Again. “Besides, don’t you like to be fashionably late?”

She fidgeted with her perfectly curled golden locks. “Not when I’m having dinner with my boyfriend’s family. I don’t want to look like a rude jerk.”

The setting sun glinted off the glossy nude polish on her nails. She must have gotten them done, but they weren’t those long fake ones she usually had.

Those couldn’t pluck my eyeballs out if I pissed her off, but they’d definitely feel good dragging down my back while I had her pinned to a bed with my cock buried in her pussy.

Shit! Focus, Axel.

Desire hummed through my body in her presence, and I had to choose my words and actions carefully so she didn’t notice. I felt awkward as hell while she seemed perfectly fine.

Lorelei was either a world-class actor, or our hot session hadn’t affected her at all, and I wasn’t sure which was worse.

“You’ve already won my dad over. There’s no need to stress about it. My family will love you. How could they not? You’re awesome.” I winked. “And apparently, you play football.”

She gave a casual shrug. “I have many talents. I do like to be well-rounded.”

A laugh burst out of my mouth. “Blondie, you didn’t even know what a strike was when we went bowling, and you expect me to believe you know how to chuck the pig's skin?”

“Bowling and football are in totally different leagues.” She gave a haughty toss of her head. “I’m not just a delicate ballerina, Vanderhart. I can kick some ass, too.”

I pictured her covered in sweat and dirt, slipping by my giant brothers to sprint to the endzone.

Fuck. There went my dick again.

Thankfully, my grandparents were coming this year. Even though Gigi Evie wanted me married with kids soon, she and Grandpa were old school, so Lorelei and I wouldn’t be sleeping in the same room. I wasn’t sure I could keep my hands to myself if we were.

Lorelei’s hand felt so tiny and delicate in mine. I couldn’t wipe the proud smile off my face as I pulled her through the grand entrance, the elegant chandelier casting a glow across the multitude of white marble. Our relationship might have been fake. But I was excited to show her off.

She was the first girlfriend I’d ever brought home.

I had imagined this moment with Cordi a hundred times, but the giddiness coursing through my veins had never been so intense as it was now with Lorelei.

Loud conversation echoed from one of the sitting rooms, so I towed her toward the left, past the double staircase with intricate wrought iron railings, a sharp contrast against the white marble.

“See, blondie, I told you we wouldn’t be late. Everyone’s still having drinks.”

She nervously smoothed the nonexistent wrinkles in her dress. “You got lucky, Ax. Now I don’t have to punish you.”

“You can still spank me if you want.”

Heat climbed into my cheeks. Damn it.Did that really just come out of my mouth?

Lorelei’s brown eyes widened infinitesimally before she gave a dry chuckle. “I’m sure you’ll do something naughty to earn yourself a spanking sooner or later.”

Football, sweaty guys in the locker room, old men in a sauna…

We entered the large room through a set of open French doors. The décor perfectly reflected my parents with a mix of dark leather, rich burnished wood, soft white silk, and gleaming marble.

My oldest brother stopped mid-conversation with his wife when we caught his eye.

“Baby boy has finally arrived!” Jackson lifted his glass of scotch, his green button-down shirt stretching over his thick arms. “And he’s brought a beautiful masterpiece of a woman. Is he blackmailing you to be here? Because you are way out of his league, sweetheart.”