40-Love - Olivia Dade Page 0,80

and disheveled and no-nonsense. Practical to a fault. Literally.

Then he held out his arms to her, and she crawled into them without hesitation.

“I’m not usually this tired, not even during my period,” she informed his cotton-covered chest, attempting to nestle closer and closer again to his now-familiar scent and his now-familiar warmth. “This is an aberration, brought on by too many orgasms.”

His chest vibrated with his amusement. “I can fumble a bit more next time, if you’d like. Pretend I can’t find your clitoris. Coming after two or three strokes won’t be a problem either, if I set my mind to it.”

“Oh, God, not that. I take it back.” Spying the gleam of familiar rose-colored fabric on the back of the open bathroom door, she pursed her lips. “Dammit. Belle left her robe. I’ll have to mail it to her when I get back.”

“Is she all right?” He sounded distracted, probably because he was sliding one hand down her spine, toward her ass. “You seemed surprised that she left early.”

Her voice was tight. “She says she’s fine.”

“So she was just homesick?” His shoulder lifted in a half-shrug. “I guess that happens.”

When his mouth lowered to her ear, she moved slightly away. “Not to Belle.”

Her tone was sharper than she’d intended, and he was staring at her, brows slightly raised. Dammit. Yet another fuckup in a day full of them.

“At least this means we can spend more time together in the evenings.” Letting out a slow breath, he gave her backside a gentle squeeze. “I know you were worried about abandoning her.”

“This isn’t something to celebrate, Lucas.” Her neck hurt. Tension, probably. “Not even if it means extra time alone together.”

“I don’t…” His hands lifted from her, and he gave her a little more space. “I guess I don’t understand why you’re so upset.”

He looked genuinely befuddled.

So she explained everything. What she’d said, what Belle had said, how they’d left things, how she still didn’t know what exactly had prompted her best friend—her best friend—to leave. How her guilt and worry had weighed on her so heavily that afternoon, she’d half-expected to sink directly to the bottom of the ocean each time she fell off her stupid float.

Lucas listened without interrupting until she’d finished. Then he reached for her hand, stopping only a hairsbreadth away. When she bridged the distance and intertwined their fingers, his entire body seemed to relax.

“I’m sorry.” His hand tightened on hers. “I suppose I’m so used to my friends coming and going, it didn’t even occur to me you’d find it upsetting.”

She exhaled slowly. “On the Tour, you mean?”

He nodded. “When you lose, you leave. Even when my friend Nick and I were in the same tournament, we knew one of us could be gone a day later. Or we might have an entire week together. Two, for the majors. There was no way to predict.”

Tess swallowed hard, her eyes prickling. “Until she moved to Boston, I saw Belle every weekday. Without fail. I miss her.”

He slid his thumb across the back of her hand. “No wonder you’re sad she left early.”

“She’s my best friend.” That, at least, hadn’t altered with the move. “The first person I call when I have good news, and the person I cry on when things go bad. I don’t even want to imagine what this past decade would have been like without her. I’d have been lost.”

His head tilted in curiosity.

“When I broke up with my fiancé, I was, uh…” Her eyes dropped to the veins of his forearms, blue and readily visible. She traced them with a fingertip. “I was in rough shape for a while. I held it together during the school day, but in the evenings…”

Her finger stilled. “After school, I needed company. Distraction. Belle was there every day, supporting me until the worst of the grief was past.”

“What exactly happened between you and your ex?” His voice was low. Cautious. “You told me the bare outlines during our second lesson, but I’d like to know more. If you’re willing to talk about it.”

She hadn’t intended to tell him about Jeremy—not tonight, possibly not ever—but maybe it was for the best. Lucas should know before their lives became any more intertwined how unfit she was to deal with an intimate relationship, especially one complicated by distance and age and physical limitations and…so much else.

The words spilled from her, curiously dispassionate. Flat and matter-of-fact.

“He should have broken the engagement instead of cheating on me, obviously.” The nearness of