“But?”
“No buts. Well, his butt, obviously. It’s a nice butt.” She grins and pumps her eyebrows.
“I’m not letting you hang out with the guys anymore,” I grumble, but her antics never fail to make me feel lighter.
“Anyway,” she says, “You’ve changed. It started with rehab, I think. But since you’ve started seeing Luc, it’s even more noticeable. Look at what’s happening around you. All of this stress and what the media is putting you through. I’m not sure you would have cared this much before, or if you did, you wouldn’t have owned it. You would have made light of it and even forced the bad boy narrative to cover whatever hurt you felt. You’ve always taken the price of fame with a grain of salt, but you’re taking this seriously.”
“It was easier when I could brush it off,” I admit. “I could convince myself I didn’t care that much. But when it comes to Luc, it feels like something was stolen from me. From us. And I’m terrified we can’t come back from it.”
“It seems like he might be willing to make some pretty big changes himself. Hear him out. Decide where your priorities lie and do what it takes. If this is going to work, you both have to face it head-on and do the work.”
I finish most of the omelet in silence. Mom shoos me away from the kitchen when I start cleaning up.
When I open the door to my room, Luc is standing at my dresser with his back to me. I step in quietly and shut the door behindme with a soft click, turning to rest my back against it and just look at him. He’s just out of the shower, hair damp and his wide, muscular back dotted with drops of water. The towel he’s got wrapped around his waist looks like it’s holding on for dear life. I can’t decide if I hope it loses the fight, or if I want to keep a clearer head for this.
It wouldn’t be fair to fuck him when we’re trying to make decisions about our future, would it? I can’t trick him into staying with my body, and I want him to prioritize me–us–without sex being the motivator.
I want him to love me the same way I love him. I want him to be willing to give up the quiet, comfortable life he’s built and step outside his comfort zone. I want him to know that I’m willing to give it all up to keep what we have safe.
Luc turns to eye me, a pair of black lacy panties hanging off his finger. “You have an entire stash of my clothes, and you keep them in your panty drawer?”
My lips twitch. “It’s the drawer of all the things that make me feel beautiful.”
His chest expands with a deep inhale, and he steps towards me, crowding me against the door. He tips my chin up to look down at me, and breathes, “You’re always beautiful.”
Priorities be damned, I can’t not kiss him when he’s looking at me like that. Not just hungrily, but like I’m something precious.
When his lips meet mine, his kiss is almost reverent. He doesn’t deepen the kiss or open to let my tongue do more than lick at the seam of his lips. I think we both understand that this conversation is more important than how carried away we can get when our bodies do the talking for us.
He steps away, but it looks like it costs him. I do everything in my power not to notice the way the front of the towel is slipping, pushed away from his body by his rising erection.
Luc finds an entire set of clothes, including underwear, in the drawer of things I’ve squirreled away. He seems amused but not like he minds.
“Don’t think you’re leaving here with those,” I say, watching him pull a pair of joggers over his thighs and ass. “Those are mine.”
“Are they now?” He chuckles.
“Yes. And you have to admit it’s convenient that I keep such things.”
“It’s cute is what it is.”
“If you keep calling me things like beautiful and cute and keep looking at me like that, it’s going to make this conversation a lot harder.”
“How am I looking at you?”
“Like you love me,” I blurt without thinking. “The way I love you,” I add, figuring I might as well get it out there.
Luc looks pained, and it’s a good thing I have my back to the door otherwise I might feel like I’m careening backwards like I’ve been struck. What isthatlook for?
He reaches for my hand and leads me to sit on my bed. I perch on the edge, but what I really want to do is run far, far away.
Luc drops to his knees on the floor in front of me, settling his hips between my knees. His hands move from my thighs, up my hips and waist, all the way to my neck, where he cups my head and keeps me facing him. He waits until I can bear eye contact.Once I look, I can’t look away, sucked into pools of deep blue emotion.
“I’m sorry,” he whispers.
I tense, ready to bolt, but he holds me there, anchored to him.
“Hear me out,” he says, pleading with me. “I need to say this.” I don’t want to look him in the eye while he tells me this is too much for him, so I let my eyelids fall shut, a tear escaping down my cheek. Luc kisses it away.
