“You have to take me with you the next time you go out,” Tate demanded with a pout that I knew she practiced on unsuspecting men.
“Chica, we can go today if you want. Although I might have something for you already . . .” Sal flipped through his pictures. “Here.”
Tate took the phone and squealed at the picture. “Want!”
Brommy, who’d been clearly trying to get her attention since he’d arrived, leaned over and glanced at the phone. “You’d look beautiful in that.”
Tate glanced at him, and her red mouth quirked. “I’m not sleeping with you, so don’t even try.”
Brommy merely smiled. “I’d be disappointed if sleep was involved.”
Tate did a double take, then laughed, truly amused. And I knew she was hooked. Which amazed me, because her usual inclination would be to verbally eviscerate him.
“Good Lord,” I murmured to Lucian, dipping my head in close to his, mainly because he smelled good, and I wanted to be nearer. “That might have actually worked.”
“You have no idea.” His lips touched the shell of my ear and lingered. “Years, I had to witness this.”
My mind went a bit hazy at that touch, the proximity of him. And I pulled in a breath, looking up to meet his gaze. As always, his eyes had the ability to make me weak. Make me want.
His attention focused on my mouth, and the wide expanse of his chest hitched. “Why did we invite everyone here again?”
“Because they were blowing up our phones, and we were being good friends.”
“And we would have hunted you down eventually,” Brommy put in loudly.
“He has the hearing of a bat,” I whispered to Lucian, who chuckled.
“And the reflexes of a cat,” Brommy added.
Lucian’s hand whipped up and caught a bread roll midair. I yelped, jerking in my seat; he’d moved so fast. Lucian turned and gave Brommy a smug look. “Center beats cat.”
And for one brilliant moment, I saw the full force of Oz, the great and powerful player who’d ruled his sport. He shone with it, confidence and cockiness oozing from his pores, until it occurred to him that he no longer played center. The realization crashing over him was painfully clear, from the way his expression suddenly blanked out to the tension visibly stiffening his spine.
I hurt for him. Because the agony exposed in the brief moment spoke of a man who didn’t know who he was anymore. Unheeded and unwanted came the one piece of advice my mother had given me about men when I’d first started to notice them.
Don’t try to pick up the pieces of the broken ones. You’ll never be able to set them back to the way they were again.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Emma
“You’re squeezing it too hard.”
“I am not. You’re just nitpicking.”
“It is not nitpicking when perfection is the goal. Hold it firmly; don’t try to wring the life out of it, or it’s going to splatter everywhere. And mind the tip.”
“I can’t believe you’re already criticizing my technique. I just started.”
“Snoop, you’ll never learn if you can’t take criticism.”
With a huff, I set down the pastry bag and wiped my forehead with my forearm. “Tell me again, How is this relaxing?”
Lucian’s white teeth flashed when he chuckled. He leaned a hip against the countertop and carefully tucked the strand of hair that had been tickling me back behind my ear. “I think one has to have a modicum of patience, honeybee.”
“Patience,” I muttered. “I haven’t strangled you yet, have I? Telling me I’m squeezing too hard.”
He grinned and dipped down to kiss my lips with affection. “In this case, yes. But if you want to give it a go on me—”
I poked his ticklish spot, and he skittered away with an actual deep male giggle that made me smile despite myself. “Don’t you dare make innuendo. I’m grumpy.”
He caught my wrist in a loose grip and raised my hand to his mouth. “You’re wonderful.” Holding my gaze, he sucked my finger into his warm mouth, the flat of his tongue stroking me.
Heat swelled between my legs, but it was the look in his eyes, all fond tenderness and affection, that had my insides fluttering. “You’re forgiven.”
Lucian’s answering kiss was a little longer, a lot sweeter. I leaned into him, cake forgotten, my arms wrapping around his neck. I allowed myself to enjoy him, let go, and just feel.
Since returning home to Rosemont, we hadn’t been taking it slow, per se, not when we couldn’t keep our hands off each other