“Did he want—”
“No.” Luc shakes his head. “We’re not talking about him.” Two more steps. I feel the air around us change, hush somehow. “Once we cross this threshold, we’re in a sibling-free zone.”
“But—”
Two more steps and we’re in his bedroom. I look over my shoulder at the king-sized bed. It’s neatly made, the slate gray comforter smooth across its surface and tucked under two oversized pillows.
“You make your bed.”
“Every morning.”
I look back at him. “Were you a Boy Scout?”
Luc shakes his head. “I’m a builder. The first thing I learned from Papi was that a foundation can’t be sloppy.”
The corner of my mouth tugs up. “Your bed is your foundation?”
He doesn’t answer my smile, but his eyes narrow on me, amused nonetheless. “My morning routine is the foundation of my day.”
This shouldn’t be sexy. My God, why is this so sexy? He walks me to the foot of the bed. I know I’m about to go down.
I meet his eyes. “I’ll mess up your foundation.”
One brow goes up. “You have no idea.”
He gives me a little push, and I’m flat on my back. Reaching down, he grabs my ankles. With one firm tug, my jeans slide off. When did he manage to unzip them?
At least my panties stay put. But judging by the look in his eyes, I don’t think that state of affairs is going to last very long. I’m stretched out on Luc’s bed in my panties, bra, and unbuttoned blouse. And Luc’s standing over me, fully dressed.
I lift my hand and gesture between us. “This isn’t fair.”
He shakes his head, giving me a wicked grin. “Life rarely is.”
He plants a knee on the bed, but I place a foot on his knee, stopping him.
“Wait. I’m serious.”
The grin dissolves. “Me too. I told you. My pants stay on.”
I shrug. “Well.” My voice drops, my confidence choosing this moment to take a smoke break. I twirl the fabric of his comforter with a timid finger. “At least take your shirt off. I feel…”
His eyes narrow on me. “You feel what?”
I swallow. Okay. Why not go for it? “Exposed.”
He unbuttons the wine-red shirt faster than I would have ever thought possible. Luc wads up the shirt and tosses it to the ground, and I’m gifted with the sight of his powerful chest and shoulders.
“Holy God,” I mutter.
He laughs through his nose, those dimples absolutely slaying me.
Help me, God. I’m in real trouble.
Looking like a bronze idol to masculinity, Luc prowls up my body on hands and knees until he hovers above me, staring down into my eyes.
Really big trouble.
He’s looking at me like he has something to say—not hesitation, but declaration—and my heart thumps even harder in my chest. His dark eyes flick to my bra and then back to mine.
