“I am,” I say quickly. “Quite.”
I don’t tell him that no one’s ever given me twoO’sin one go. Much less three. I grab the edge of the comforter and roll up in it like a burrito, facing him completely covered.
Luc quirks a brow at me. “Cold?”
“No.” I don’t offer him an explanation, but I’m only too glad to be able to hide a little after that wanton display.
His focus narrows. Lying on his side facing me, Luc settles a hand on my blanketed hip. “You do know,” he says, his voice hushed. “There’s nothing you could give me—or share with me—that I don’t want.”
When I don’t answer, he hooks a finger over the top of the comforter at my shoulder and tugs gently, leaving me covered but making his intentions known.
“Everything you’ve got I want,” he says, certainty ringing in his words. “Everything you want to give, I’ll take.”
It’s my turn to arch a brow. “Except for what you just gave to me.”
His eyes blaze before narrowing to slits. “Wicked woman,” he growls. “I’d have to be dead not to want that. But that’s not what tonight is about.”
Guilt takes a bite out of me. “I didn’t mean to tease,” I tell him. Then with spirit. “I’mnotteasing.”
His gaze softens. Just a little. “I know. But if you haven’t already figured it out, I keep my word.”
I nod. “I’ve figured it out.” And then, because he feels too far away, I reach for him and pull him into my blanket burrito.
He moans when his chest meets mine. “You’re warm.” Luc holds me against him for a moment, but then he stirs. “Let’s do this right.” Unwrapping me from my cocoon, Luc tugs down the blankets and gestures for me to crawl beneath them. His sheets are cloud white and look just as soft. I don’t hesitate.
When Luc joins me, he takes me back in his arms. His heavy, gruff sigh sounds as content as I feel. This is bliss.
He presses a kiss to my forehead. “It’s early still. We could rest for a while.”
“God, yes,” I say on a sigh. The day—the week, hell, the last six months—feel interminable.
With a hand on my hip, Luc cinches me closer to him, and I hook a leg over his thigh. We fit just right. The fingers on my hip move in lazy crescents. Back and forth. Back and forth. My eyelids wilt.
“I’m glad you’re here,” Luc murmurs. Darkness has fallen outside his windows, and the only light comes from a small lamp on his bedside, giving the room a cozy dimness.
“It’s nice here,” I say, turning an ear toward the quiet. It’ssoquiet. I stiffen. “You think they’re all right?”
Luc gives me a lazy smile. “I’m sure they’re great.”
I nod. He’s right. Of course, he’s right.
But what if he’s wrong? I picture my phone across the apartment on Luc’s sofa. Would he be offended if I dashed across the house—naked—to grab it? Do I really want to dash anywhere naked? Will Emmett remember to take his antibiotic with dinner? He’ll get a stomach ache if he—
Luc untangles himself from me, and in one fluid motion, he’s out of bed and striding across the room.
“What are you doing?” I call after him.
“Getting my phone,” he calls back, and a moment later, he fills the doorway, shirtless, clad only in his jeans, looking like an ad for American Eagle Outfitters. I only notice the phone in his hand when he’s sinking back under the covers with me.
“Why?” I ask, as he unlocks the screen.
He stops what he’s doing and looks at me, amused. “Because I could hear you worrying.”
“You couldn’thearme worrying,” I protest, but he probably could.
He quirks a skeptical brow. “I knew you wouldn’t rest until we checked. Here.” He angles the screen so we both can see. He has seven new messages. All from the kids. Three pictures. Four texts.
As soon as I see them, everything in me melts, but nothing more than my heart. I look over at Luc. He’s watching me, and I wonder how well he can really read my mind. If he knew I was worrying about the kids, does he know how I feel about him? How I feel in this very moment when he’s just demonstrated—again—how completely sweet he is?
