“Youaren’t.You’re begging for me. I love reassuring you. Don’t think for a moment I am not delighted to know that your greatest fear right now is losing me.” His fingers slip through my hair. “Your weakness lets me feel strong, cupcake. I need that stroke to my pride, lest I wither away into humbleness.”
That would be catastrophic.
I whisper, “Can I do something for you?”
“For me?”
Tipping my head back, I meet his eyes. “To reassure you, too.”
His brows lift. “Why do I need reassurance?”
My face warms. “Because…you don’t think of me asjusta friend anymore, do you? And last night…I rejected some of those feelings.”
He tenses, but—like Viktor said—he communicates well. “You don’t need to worry about my romantic feelings, Clara. They’re my problem. You’re allowed to…” Acute suffering laces itself in his voice. “You’re allowed to reject them.”
“And if I don’t want to reject them?”
His lips part, but he swiftly recovers and hardens himself. “I don’t want to coerce you into accepting them. I’m not going anywhere, no matter what you do, so. They really aren’t your problem.”
They’re not my burden to bear—even if my rejection hurts him so much he can’t sleep.
I have never before been cared for likethis.
“Lukas?”
He shivers. “Yes, cupcake?”
Standing on my toes, I kiss his cheek. “I’m growing in soil now. I will decide for myself how I feel, and if I come to love you…I promise, I willloveyou so deeply you will have no choice but to drown.”
Helpless, he caves around me, forehead to forehead. Broken, he whispers, “I would like nothing more.”
