147: Bring hell to the Ashen Clan

Lucas didn't come in for at least twenty minutes, and no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't stop thinking about the big bulge in his pants when he walked out of the room. I had felt it earlier when I laid down, and now it has become the most fascinating and most terrifying thing to me, but I just couldn't breathe my head to kick out the thought.

I lay beneath the duvet, covering my red-coated face and my swollen lips from the past few minutes, my heart was still racing as though I had just run a marathon, and particles of the lightheadedness I felt when Lucas was kissing me still remained.

I missed him immediately when he left, as he walked out of the door, as soon as his hands left my body. I came to the slow realization that my feelings for Lucas were rapidly changing into something big and beyond my control it was only a matter of time before they blew up in my face.

The air in the room still smelled like him, like wood and soap and masculine sweat and for a second I imagined hi