But it was more about the way they moved. Greg had a slow amble, as though he wanted to make sure everyone watched him. While Lucian possessed a fluid grace, a panther lying in wait. He could move with lightning quickness if he wanted, but most of the time he simply flowed. Swagger.
They faced each other, Greg with his expectant “Let’s exchange compliments” look he got around fellow famous athletes, and Lucian with his grim reserve.
Greg extended his hand, but Lucian looked down at it like it was dirt. His wintergreen eyes moved up to meet Greg’s, but he didn’t attempt to shake his hand. Instead, he turned his attention to me. “Is this a bad time?”
I knew what he was asking. Did I want Greg here? Was I back with him?
A lump swelled in my throat. I missed him. It had been only a day, and I missed him. I was so screwed.
“Greg was just leaving.”
Greg, who’d apparently forgotten I was there in the face of the great Luc Osmond, whipped back to me. “We were going to talk.”
“You know what? I’m all out of talk right now.” I inclined my head toward the path.
“Are you with Oz now?” he asked, incredulous. Then shook his head before I could answer. “I guess you have a type.”
My back teeth met with a click. “Unless you mean male, Lucian isn’t anything like you.”
Lucian grunted. I knew him well enough now to understand that particular tone meant surprise. I couldn’t look at him, though, not yet. I had to deal with an increasingly self-entitled ex.
“We’re not doing this. Please go, Greg.”
Given that Lucian was shooting a warning look that even Greg couldn’t miss, and I wasn’t budging, he let out a sigh. “Fine. I’ll call you later.”
“I wish you wouldn’t.”
He didn’t answer, but he stopped by my side, bent, and gave my cheek a kiss before I could get away. “See you later, Emma.”
I kept my gaze on Lucian, my heart thudding erratically against my chest. He stared right back, his expression tight and intent. I found myself moving forward.
As soon as I did, Lucian came down the stairs to meet me halfway. We stopped a foot away from each other. I caught the scent of his skin, burnt sugar and bittersweet chocolate; he’d been baking again. I could feel the warmth of his body. I wanted to press into it, soak it up.
I stayed still and searched his face. He gave nothing away, staring down at me with a solemn expression. When he spoke, his deep voice sounded rougher. “You okay with me being here right now? I could come back.” He said it as though forcing the offer through his lips. But he said it. Lucian would never push me to do something I didn’t want.
My smile was watery, weak, and fleeting. “I’m glad you’re here. Greg was being a pest about wanting to talk, and I was trying to get rid of him as soon as possible.”
Lucian let out a swift, audible breath. Only then did I notice he held a small white box in his hand. I knew those boxes. He’d brought along a pastry.
Hope warred with caution. I steeled myself for the worst and hoped for the best. “Would you like to come in?”
He hadn’t yet taken his eyes from my face. “Yes.”
The simple declaration had my heart flipping over in my chest. I merely nodded and made my way to the door, pretending that I wasn’t shivering inside from nerves and need. I pulled out my phone and sent a quick text to Tate, then put it on silent before she had a chance to reply with a barrage of questions.
“My friend was waiting for me at the lounge,” I explained, letting us in.
He frowned slightly. “You want to go back and meet her? I didn’t exactly give you notice.” So careful. Was he sorry he came?
“No. She lives close by.” I walked into the bungalow. The house had been serviced, and the lamps had been left on in strategic places to give the space a soft romantic glow.
Lucian stopped in the center of the little living room, his wide shoulders tight, his stance on the balls of his feet like he might soon bolt. And it hit me how nervous he was. Oddly, it made me less so.
“You want a drink?”
“No.” He glanced down at his hand and frowned, as though he was surprised to find himself holding the box. “This is for you.”
He held it out, which meant I had to get closer.
“Thank you.” My fingers felt numb as I reached for his offering. The box felt strangely light, which plucked at my curiosity, but I didn’t open it. I set it down and met Lucian’s troubled gaze instead.
“You had Sal find me, didn’t you?” I asked as the thought popped into my head.
He understood me perfectly, and a small wry smile pulled at his expressive mouth. “I did.”
“Just tell me one thing,” I said with due seriousness. “Am I still getting that dress? Or do I have to kill both of you?”
Lucian’s true smile broke free. “You’re still getting the dress.”
My answering grin spread like sunlight through my veins.
Lucian sucked in a sharp breath. “I missed that smile.”
He was not going to make me cry. “It’s only been a day.”
“Has it?” He stepped closer.
“A half a day at best,” I babbled, my heart beating frantically.
He kept coming, jade eyes warm but troubled. “It felt like a year.”
“Lucian . . .”
He stopped within touching distance. Close enough that I had to tilt my head to meet his gaze. Remorse filled his. “I wanted to protect you. I wanted to protect me.” His hand lifted and hovered, as though he wanted to touch my cheek but didn’t yet dare. “But it was too late.”
“Too late?” My mind had gone blank the moment he’d drawn near.
“Yeah,” he rasped, his fingertip drifting along the edge of my temple. “For me, at least. I started hurting the second I let you go, and I haven’t stopped.”
My lids fluttered closed as the words washed over me. But I’d been burned by his rejection too hard to proceed without caution. “Is that why you came here?”
“I came to ask if you would consider being with me. For however long we have. Just be with me.”
I swayed, wanting so badly to lean into him. “Despite the fact that our situations haven’t changed?”
“Yes.” He lowered his hand but didn’t move away. “This is real to me. I’m not messing around. I like you. A lot. I want you so much it hurts. And that scared the shit out of me.” He searched my face as his tone turned earnest. “It was so fast, so strong, I panicked, Em.”
A soft pulse of feeling went through me. “You think I’m not scared? I just got out of a shitty relationship with Greg the penis pimple.”
“Penis pimple?” he repeated, fighting a smile even though the air between us was still taut with uncertainty.
“Yes. And you just ended it with Cassandra the moron.”
“I’ll concede that Cassandra messed me up more than I’d thought. It’s unsettling to realize someone was with me solely for the fame, and I didn’t even notice or care.” He winced a little. “Made me reassess all my interactions with women.”
I didn’t blame him for that. Greg had done a number on me as well. The worst thing about someone destroying your trust was that it became harder to give it to someone new.