“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, held me up when I was low and feeling sorry for myself. He’d danced in the dark with me like it meant everything. I wanted it to mean everything, and that was my weakness.
He was quiet for a moment before speaking with clear reluctance. “You never asked about Cassandra.”
“I figured that if you wanted to tell me about her, you would.”
The corners of his eyes crinkled. “That your way of saying I should have minded my own business about Greg the moron?”
“Moron, huh?”
“If he screwed around on you, he was.”
I laughed. “Yes, he was. And no, I’m not upset you asked.”
His nod was perfunctory, as though he wasn’t fully listening, and his gaze slid away. “When Cassandra found out I was retiring, she left. Put the ring on the front hall table and bolted.”
Oh, Lucian.
My entire body squeezed with pain for him. “That moron.”
A ghost of a smile touched his mouth, and he made a grunt of agreement. Less tense now, he turned his head back my way. “She wants to be an actress.”
Oh, the irony.
“You say that like it’s a four-letter word.”
The corner of his mouth twitched. “I don’t think it’s a four-letter word. It’s seven.”
“Are you sure about that?”
“I can count the letters. I’m sure.”
“I’m talking about the way you sneered at actress like it meant dirt. But it’s good to know you can count up to seven.”
“You make me crazy; you know that?”
“I’ll take that as a compliment.”
“I have no idea why you would.” There was a surprising lightness in his voice. The idea that grumpy-ass Lucian Osmond was flirting with me again sent little bubbles of anticipation through my veins.
“At least I have an effect on you. That’s much better than indifference.”
He grunted, low and disgruntled. Silence fell in a curtain between us, growing thicker, more potent. I bit my lip, waiting, refusing to crack. And then:
“You think I’m indifferent to you?”
“We’ve already established that you aren’t.”
He grunted again. “Em . . .”
“Lucian.”
I could practically feel him vibrating with annoyance and the struggle of whether to pursue the issue. He huffed out an aggrieved breath. “Completely crazy.”
I ducked my head to hide my smile. “I know.”
“You love it. Admit it.”
“I’m hardly about to cop to that and lose my advantage, now am I?”
“Hell.”
Grinning in victory, I snuggled down in the bed and tried to relax enough to sleep. Lucian apparently tried as well. The bedsheet rustled as adjustments for comfort were made. Once settled, we lay stiffly side by side, each of us too aware of the other to make the slightest of movements.
Outside, the wind howled and rattled against the glass, as if in protest of being kept out. Lucian cleared his throat and then stilled. My lips twitched as the pent-up nervousness I had been feeling all night came to the surface. A snicker rose in my throat. I struggled to keep it under control, but a titter came out in spite of my best efforts. The silence made it worse. I lost the war and giggled again.
“What is so funny?” he asked in the darkness. I could tell by his tone that he was trying not to smile.
I laughed again, trying in vain to stop.
“I don’t know,” I said between snorts and sputters.
“For Christ’s sake,” he exclaimed, sounding fully exasperated, which only made me laugh harder. I felt him turn toward me. “Are you going to tell me what is so funny?” He sounded strange in the dark room.
“Everything. This situation, your lack of sleepwear . . .” The giggles had me again.
“You’re impossible,” he said, trying to sound stern.
I bit my lip to keep from laughing, but a snort escaped. There was a quiet pause.
He snickered in the darkness. The sound of it set me off, and that set Lucian off, until we were laughing uncontrollably with the bed shaking under us.
“Oh stop; my sides hurt,” I said, gasping for air. It was nerves. I knew that was what had set me off, but I couldn’t get my laughter under control.
“You started it!”
I dropped my voice to imitate him. “I could sleep over the covers.”
“Look who’s talking. You should have seen your face.”
The moon chose that moment to peek through the clouds, and its blue light poured through the window, illuminating the room. Lucian was looking down at me, eyes crossed, tongue sticking out in a truly terrible goofball expression.
“That’s it . . .” I picked up my pillow and hit him with it.
He laughed in protest. “It’s on, honey.”
A soft pillow hit my face as he launched his retaliation.
I screeched in outrage, whacking him on the chest and diving under the sheets before he could get me.
He ripped the covers back, coming after me with a hearty laugh. I covered my head with my hands to protect myself, but he pulled them down, holding them securely with one large hand, and hit me soundly with his pillow.
I shrieked and tried to pull my hand from his viselike grip. Lucian only laughed harder as I struggled. I managed to get one hand free and dug my thumb into his ribs. He skirted away quickly, but I had found his weakness and went after him.
“Oh, no you don’t!” I rolled halfway onto him and poked his sides mercilessly.
God, but he was adorable when he laughed like that, carefree and boyish. And sneaky. In a blink, he had me on my back.
I shrieked again, trying desperately to tickle him but having a hard time of it since my hands were trapped under me. My hand broke free, but he caught it and pulled it over my head. The action brought us face to face.
We went still, our chests heaving. Lucian’s eyes searched mine, his breath fanning my face softly. Neither of us moved. I blinked back at him, utterly aware of the hard length of him pressed against my sex with only the barrier of our underwear preventing him from sliding in.
“We probably woke the whole house,” I said in a strangled whisper.
His lids half mast, tension rode him so hard he trembled. And for a brief second, I thought he hadn’t heard me at all. But then he swallowed audibly, and his voice came out hoarse and taut. “That’s my cue to make a joke, but my mind is blank, Em, because I can’t . . . I can’t.” He squeezed his eyes shut, then opened them wide. “I can’t fight this anymore. I want you. I want you so fucking much.”