Something shifts in her expression. Softens at the edges.
"You look completely ridiculous in that thing."
"Yeah. I know."
"The pants are way too short. Your ankles are showing."
"Trust me, I'm aware."
"And that collar looks like it's actively strangling you right now."
"Yep." I work the button loose, breathing easier. "Darius made me practice eating with seven different forks. Told me to stop explaining things and just nod agreeably when humans make small talk about weather."
"Oh god." She's almost smiling now. "You really tried."
"I really failed."
"Yeah." But her hand reaches out, fingers brushing my jaw. "You really did."
The touch ignites something desperate in me. Need and hunger and three days of separation that felt like drowning.
I catch her wrist gently. "Tell me to leave and I will. Tell me we're done and I'll walk out that door and never make your life harder than I already have."
"Stone."
"But if there's any part of you that still wants this, wants me, then say that instead. Because I'm drowning here, Lacy. I need to know if I'm drowning alone."
She slides off the chair, kneeling with me on the floor. Her free hand cups my face, thumb tracing the ridge of my cheekbone.
"You're not alone."
Then she's kissing me. Hard and fierce and claiming, her mouth hot and urgent against mine. I freeze for half a second, surprised, before instinct takes over and I'm pulling her closer, hands spanning her waist, thumbs pressing against ribs.
"Upstairs." She breaks the kiss long enough to breathe the word against my lips. "Now."
The apartment above the shop is small, cluttered with the overflow of her life. Books stacked on every surface. Aunt Rene's prescription bottles organized by day. A half-finished mug of tea gone cold on the coffee table.
I barely register any of it.
Lacy backs toward her bedroom, pulling me with her by my tie. The fabric cuts into my neck but I don't care. Don't care about anything except the heat in her eyes and the promise of her hands already working my jacket off my shoulders.
"This stupid suit." She shoves the fabric down my arms, nearly ripping a seam. "You don't need to be smaller, Stone. You don't need to fit."
"Lacy—"
"I don't want agreeable small talk and proper fork placement. I want you." She yanks my shirt free from my waistband, buttons scattering as she pulls it open. "Big and awkward and too honest for your own good."
Her palms press flat against my heart. Fingers spreading wide like she's trying to touch all of me at once.
I groan, head falling back.
"That's what I want." She pushes me backward until my legs hit her bed and I sit hard. "The truth of you."
She straddles my lap, dress riding up her thighs. I grip her hips, thumbs brushing the sensitive skin where leg meets hip, and she gasps.
"We don't have to—" I start, but she covers my mouth with her hand.
"I'm choosing this. Choosing you. Right now, no cameras, no commentary, just us." She rolls her hips against me and I bite back a curse. "Tell me you want that."
