touch him. In all honesty, I barely trusted myself not to reach for him when I was awake.
Truly, I hadn’t thought this thing out very well either. But I was an actress. I could act like I was fine. But I didn’t think I’d fooled Lucian. The man had a way of seeing right through me. It was damn inconvenient.
Against my will, my gaze slid over the rest of the bed for the briefest moment. It was a big white affair with fluffy pillows and a downy quilt. The temptation to grab Lucian by the hand and say, “To hell with it; just fuck me, please, I beg you” was so strong that my bones vibrated, my breasts growing heavy underneath my top.
Would he do it? Would he drop all his walls and blockades and give me relief from this relentless wanting? Or would he give me that look that said he thought I was ridiculous and then flee the room?
He was giving me a look now, cautious but considering. Exactly what he was considering, I didn’t know. And that was the maddening part.
There were times when I felt as though I knew this man on a bone-deep level that defied how long we’d been in each other’s lives. Something about Lucian made sense to me. I couldn’t explain it further than that. And yet he’d told Delilah and Saint to call him Luc.
Embarrassment uncoiled in my belly. I didn’t even know what name he liked to be called. It felt awful, strange. Reminding me that I didn’t know this man who I’d be sharing a room with at all.
“Should I not call you Lucian?” I blurted out, all needy and uncertain.
A small wrinkle formed between stern brows. “I told you to call me that.”
“You also told me to call you Oz. And for Dee and Saint to call you Luc.”
“I know.” One hand set on his narrow hips, he swiped the other hand over his mouth. “I sound addlepated.”
“Addlepated,” I repeated with a smile.
His answering grin was swift and brilliant, and it took a little of my breath with it. “A Mamie term.”
“Ah.”
His grin faded. “People have always either called me Oz or Luc. That’s what I’m used to. But with you . . .” He paused, his lips parted and that frown returning, reluctant and annoyed. And he shrugged, more like a roll of his shoulder, as though he were trying to loosen the tension there. “You’ve called me Lucian from the start. It sounds right.”
Warmth spread through me, slow like honey.
Our gazes collided and held as something simmered between us. Lucian’s lids lowered in lazy perusal. Of me on the bed. I didn’t miss the way his nostrils flared on a drawn-in breath, the way his dusky skin darkened. A pulse beat in my neck, steady, hard.
“Lucian . . .” It rolled over my tongue like cream.
Honey and cream. I wanted to pour both over those tight abs of his and just lick.
Perhaps he knew that, because he jerked straight. His jaw twitched, and those wintergreen eyes told me to behave. But I didn’t want to. I wanted to tease and tempt him the way he tempted me.
One night sharing a bed with Lucian. I didn’t think I’d survive it.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Lucian
That bed. That fucking bed. It would be the bane of my existence for the next twenty-four hours. That and the image of Emma sitting on the edge of it with a witchy smile that all but dared me to tumble her back and fuck her into the soft covers.
If she wanted to pretend there was absolutely no temptation in sharing a bed, fine. But I saw the faint flush in her cheeks as she looked up at me, the way her lips parted like an invitation to take a taste. And that made it worse. So much worse. If I thought for a second that she had no interest in me, I would grit my teeth and suffer through a night in bed with her without another thought.
But knowing she would be suffering too? That was another matter altogether. It felt like a physical imperative to ease her need and thus ease mine. And then what? When the sweat cooled, we’d still be the same people, me with a life going nowhere, while Emma’s was open to countless possibilities.
Before, when I was a cocky son of a bitch, I wouldn’t have cared about the after. I would have gone for what I wanted and damned the