Page 21 of Burned

“I only need one,” I say. His expression doesn’t change, but the air does. It tightens. Followed by the corners of his jaw. “For now.”

It’s the only one that matters. The thought that’s had me spiraling ever since I overheard the men talking about her. The thing I’ve needed to know ever since the gut punch of realizing I wasn’t the only woman in his orbit.

A log shifts in the fireplace, landing with a soft thud and a collapse of sparks.

I have to take a shaky breath just to get the words out. “Did you really love her?”

“Yes,” he says.

Honesty is a blade. I nod once, pretending it does not slide between my ribs and cut me. Deep.

“Was it serious?”

Lucian steps closer. “That is a second question.”

My throat goes tight. “Consider it a follow-up.”

His eyes narrow.

For a second, I think he might refuse.

Then he says, “I thought it was…but now what does it matter?.”

Not yes. Not no. Somehow worse?

My fingers curl into the hem of my sweater. “Do you think she betrayed you?”

His jaw tightens. “Carlos did.”

“That is not an answer either.”

“It is the only answer I had until this morning. And that’s too many questions.”

Meaning he doesn’t know. Meaning Isobel might have been a victim, a traitor, or both. Meaning the woman he loved, who possibly betrayed him, who had him first, has returned.

I pull the sweater over my head and drop it to the floor.

Lucian inhales.

The sound is quiet, but I hear it.

I stand before him in my black bra, skin prickling from the room’s warmth and his stare. My hair falls over one shoulder, tangled and probably full of bits of bark. I am not dressed for seduction. I am dressed like a woman who wandered outside in a borrowed coat and got caught spying.

Yet Lucian looks at me as if I am temptation incarnate.

It feels so good to be looked at like this when I haven’t done anything to deserve it—just standing here, comfortable in my own skin.

Lucian’s gaze lowers slowly, taking in the bra, my bare stomach, the leggings still clinging to my hips. “Take off those pants.”

I want this. Too much.

My hands go to my waist. “Is that part of my punishment?” I ask, aiming for sharpness and landing somewhere between melting and puddle.

His mouth curves. “That depends on how well you behave.”

Heat blooms low in my belly as I peel them down my legs, leaving on the black panties that match my bra. He watches me, hungry, as I toss them to the side, and turn.

The fire crackles behind him. The room is too quiet, too warm as Lucian steps close enough that I feel him before he touches me. His hand settles on my hip.