I had two options. Retreat or relent. Given that the latter would allow me to continue touching her, I relented.
“Ask, then.” I nipped along the graceful line of her throat. “I’ll take it out on your neck.”
A sound of amusement hummed under her skin. “Fair enough. Your headaches. Are you seeing a doctor?”
I wasn’t surprised. Not even disappointed—she cared enough to ask. I still felt exposed. Weak. I kept my tone neutral, my hands busy feeling her ripe curves.
“Yes, Em. I’m being monitored. I went for a checkup last week. My brain is healing. Actually, it’s looking really good.” My doctor had been both impressed and pleased with how well I’d healed. “The headaches are actually reducing in frequency. Migraines tend to come in times of stress; that’s all.”
Emma’s swift expression of horror made me grimace.
“God, Luc—”
“I didn’t mean you—”
“You got one when you met me. And again when we . . .” She flushed, pained, her gaze darting over my face. “Do I stress you?”
I held her firmly, my eyes never leaving hers. “Em, no. Okay? The word stress is misleading. Last night was something I’ve been wanting since I met you.”
She softened a bit, but the worry remained, and I gave her a light squeeze.
“It was . . . I don’t know how to explain.” I blew out a breath. “It was emotional. Swift emotional highs and lows can throw me; that’s all.”
Emma looked as though she might argue, and I stopped her with a light kiss.
“I’m okay, Snoopy. I promise.” I wanted to concentrate on other things now, like getting her into bed. But she held on to my head and met my gaze.
“I swear, Em. I’m not going to break if we—”
“I know. I’m just glad. Okay? I’m . . . very glad you’re safe and well.” The tender look in her eyes and the way her voice hitched wrapped itself around me, filled my head, and made it dizzy. If I hadn’t been sitting down, I might have staggered. We’d known each other only for a short while. I wasn’t supposed to feel this much this fast. Neither was she. Did she? I wasn’t sure.
Uncertainty and vulnerability made me speak without thinking. “Eventually I will heal all the way. And then . . .” Shit. I hadn’t meant to go there. It was too much information. Too much exposure.
Emma frowned. “And then?”
It was on the tip of my tongue to evade with a joke. But I wanted to tell her, test the waters maybe. Or maybe just have the words out in the open. Holding her gaze, I sat back in the chair, keeping my hands lightly on her hips. I told Emma something I hadn’t uttered to anyone outside of conversations with my doctor, trainers, and former head coach. “I could wait it out, let myself heal, and go back.”
“What? You . . . you’d do that?” She appeared horrified.
“Sometimes, I think about it. Hell, I dream about it. But I think about Jean Philipe, what my family went through, the shell of a man he’d become. I wouldn’t do that to my family again.”
I told myself this every day. But in the darkest corners of my soul, I was tempted. So fucking tempted.
The touch of Emma’s hand upon my cheek pulled me back to the present. “Thank you,” she whispered, her fingers brushing along my temple, as though she could somehow soothe my battered brain. “For taking care of this brain. I find I very much like it.”
Right there, I was lost. I wasn’t prepared. My life was a wreck, uncertain and unsteady. And she’d strolled in with her starlight smile, unrepentant, challenging me at every turn. Telling me I was still worth something. That I meant something. To her.
It scared the shit out of me. Because eventually she’d see that I was a man living a half life.
I gripped the tops of her smooth thighs, as if they could ground me, but I still felt as though the bottom was dropping out of my world. “Em—”
“Titou?” The sound of my grandmother’s voice at the door, closely followed by a knock, had us both freezing in something close to horror. “Are you there?”
“Holy shit, it’s Amalie.” Emma’s high-pitched whisper cut through the fraught silence, and she scrambled off my lap, practically dancing around in a panic. “What do we do?”
I gurgled down a laugh. “Hide?”
“Lucian! This is serious. I’m in your shirt.” She gestured down her length, drawing my eyes to her bare legs. I’d had my hand on them for far too brief a time. “Shit. Where is my dress?”
She started for the bedroom, then glared at me over her shoulder as I laughed—I couldn’t help it; she was adorable in her frazzled state. “And put a shirt on.”
“Why don’t you throw me the one you’re wearing?”
She flipped me the finger instead.
“Titou? I know you’re there.”
“You think she can hear us breathing?” I whispered into Emma’s ear as she hustled back into the room, wrenching her sundress over her pretty tits before thrusting a shirt at my bare chest.
Despite the quelling glare she gave me, she started to snicker. “God. How old are we?”
Ignoring the shirt, I snagged her about the waist and hauled her closer, brushing a kiss on the curve of her neck. “Why are you freaking out?”
“Because . . .” She lifted a helpless hand and waved it. “It’s rude to Amalie for me to be . . .”
“Sucking off her grandson?”
“Oh my God.” She punched my arm in horror even as her eyes sparked in amusement. “You are sick!”
“Titou!” Amalie sounded sharp now, annoyed that I hadn’t answered.
I turned to do just that, when the door rattled and then began to open. I swung my gaze back to Emma. “You didn’t lock it!”
Shit. My hair was sticking up wildly, I didn’t have a shirt on, and Emma was still half-dressed. She rightfully smirked at the panic in my eyes. “Something wrong, honey pie?”
“She’ll be relentless.” I set Emma to the side as carefully as I could for someone rushing to get to the door before it could fully open, hopping over one of my shoes and skirting a chair. But it was too late. My grandmother waltzed into the house with an altogether fake look of surprise upon her face as she took in the scene.
“Well,” she said expansively, “now I understand why you didn’t answer sooner.”
There I stood, full-on blushing in front of my grandmother. It was karma, payback for teasing Emma. I could sense Emma just to my right, her silence speaking volumes in my head. I knew if I turned and caught her gaze I’d see “Look who’s laughing now, sucker” in her eyes.
My jaw ticced. “Mamie. You need something?”
Mamie’s gaze moved from me to Emma and back again. “Oh, nothing really. Not anything serious enough to disturb you two right now.” She clapped her hands together, the heavy rings on her fingers clinking. “Oh, but this is marvelous. I’d hoped this would—”
“We were just having lunch,” I cut in.
I could all but feel Emma stiffen. And I winced internally. For all her protests, I didn’t think she liked being relegated to just lunch.