Oh.
Mara doesn’t notice. She just smiles. “You’ve gone so soft.”
Lucian barely reacts. Just one corner of his mouth lifts. “Don’t start rumors.”
“I lost a poker game to Riley,” he says evenly. “I owe him one.”
Mara laughs. “You’re terrible at lying.”
“I didn’t lie,” Lucian replies. “I omitted details.”
She snorts, phone buzzing in her hand. “I’ve got a call. Try not to traumatize each other while I’m gone.”
She slips out of the kitchen, leaving the door swinging shut behind her. The silence stretches.
Lucian crowds me against the marble kitchen island. His thumbs loop themselves in my belt loops, tugging me closer to him.
“Would you like to go on a date with me?” he asks.
I blink.
“You’re serious,” I say.
“Yes.”
Just that. No qualifiers. No conditions. No threats disguised as invitations.
I stare at him for a second longer, then laugh. “Wow. We are doing this wildly out of order.”
His brow lifts slightly. “Explain.”
“Sex first,” I say, ticking it off on my fingers. “Then friendship. And now romance?”
A beat.
He traces his nose along my neck. “I don’t see the problem.”
I pull away, chuckling. “Of course you don’t.”
I’m still talking when I notice it—his attention drifting, not to my eyes, but to my mouth. The way his gaze tracks my lips as I speak, like he’s memorizing the shape of my words.
It makes my stomach flip.
“You’re staring,” I say.
“I’m listening,” he counters smoothly.
“Liar.”
His eyes darken just a fraction. “Careful.”
I feel heat crawl up my neck, but I don’t look away. “So what does a date with the Devil look like?”
“Dinner,” he says. “Somewhere discreet. No work. No phones.”
I arch a brow. “You can do that?”
“I can do anything, sweetheart.”
