snorted, already feeling better. This I could do. “I never hide it. And I think you like my bossy ways just fine, Brick.”
“I do.” Holding my gaze, he unbuttoned his jeans and let them slide to the floor.
Mistake. Huge mistake, ordering him to take those off. God, his thighs. Could you call a man’s thick ripped thighs beautiful? I pressed mine together, trying to suppress the desire to straddle one of those lightly furred, powerful thighs and ride it.
Didn’t work, though.
He was wearing boxer briefs. Dove gray. Softly hugging all that hard . . .
Don’t look. Don’t . . . but the hem of the T-shirt only reached the top of his hips. The rest was lovingly displayed.
My eyes wrenched up to his amused ones. I grumbled and turned to flick off the lamp on my side.
Lucian’s slow chuckle in the dark followed. The bed shifted as he got in, the covers rustling with his movements. Hyperaware, I could only burrow down and try to get comfortable.
“This is fun.” His voice, dry with humor, sounded overloud in the darkened room.
I flipped around to face him, letting my eyes adjust. We’d left the curtains open enough that the room grew a dusky deep blue, and his eyes glimmered in the shadows, his inky hair a smudge on the white pillows.
“That wind is spooky as hell,” I whispered. “We could tell ghost stories.”
He hummed, as if contemplating the idea. God, but he was close. I was so attuned to him I could smell the soap on his skin and the faint mint of his toothpaste. I wanted to snuggle closer, put my mouth on his, and taste it. I clutched my pillow like a lifeline. I was not making the first move. A girl had some pride.
“Speaking of ghosts,” he finally said in a low voice. “Who is Greg?”
I winced, my body tensing.
“I know you didn’t want to talk about it before. And you can tell me to shut it now, if you want.” Concern lined his hard face as his gaze moved over mine. “But the way your friends rallied around you makes me worry. Did this guy hurt you?”
Perhaps it was because I’d told him my dad hit, or maybe it was simply Lucian’s nature to look out for people, but his concern about me ever being hurt warmed my fluttering insides.
“Not physically.” I sighed. “Greg Summerland was my ex.”
The bed jolted. “The quarterback?”
“Yes.” I really hated that Greg was a hero to so many. I sincerely hoped Lucian wasn’t a fan. But he sounded more surprised than awed. I supposed that made sense, since he was a pro athlete as well.
“When I was axed—literally—from the show, I went home to cry on his shoulder and found him screwing a nineteen-year-old girl on my living room floor.”
“Ouch.”
“It didn’t look very comfortable on the knees.”
“Em.” His voice touched me like a caress. I didn’t want sympathy. Not about stupid Greg and his wandering dick.
“What should I say? It was a blow. But I think I should have felt more than rage. He should have broken my heart. But it feels fairly intact.”
Lucian thought it over before speaking. “Good point.”
“I think so,” I said with some cheek.
He started to smile, but then his expression clouded. “Greg is a star athlete.”
“I am aware.”
“I didn’t realize you were familiar with the life.”
“The life being all the craziness of rabid fans and the never-ending travel and practice schedules, you mean?”
“Yeah, that.” He didn’t sound very pleased.
“It isn’t as though it was much different from my life.”
He was silent for a second. “No, I guess not.”
Lucian sounded so disgruntled I fought a smile. But my good humor crumpled. “I guess I thought he was above the whole skirt-chasing aspect that I’d heard so much about. At least, he claimed that wasn’t him when we started going out.”
“He left you with a bad impression of us, didn’t he?”
“Us?” I asked.
“Pro athletes.”
The flutters in my belly started up again, inexplicably strong. I curled into the feeling, half pressing myself to the bed. “Are you trying to tell me something, honey pie?”
He huffed a slight laugh but didn’t smile. “Not all of us are like that, Em.”
The flutters moved to my chest. “I know.”
An adorable grunt was his reply. I was tempted to push and ask him why it mattered so much that I didn’t swear off all athletes. But I didn’t have the courage. Not when any possible rejection would level me. This man had hugged me close,