Page 102 of Lennox Lane

He dipped his head and pressed a kiss to her lips, soft enough not to startle, lingering enough to let her know exactly who was there when she opened her eyes.

“Good morning, Lavender.”

Her lashes fluttered. She blinked up at him, sleep-heavy and unguarded for half a breath. “Morning, Robot,” she murmured.

His mouth curved against hers. “You slept.”

“I was emotionally exhausted yesterday. I needed sleep in the worst way.”

“Agreed.”

She shifted, stretching one leg under the blanket, then settled back against him. “I want to spend the weekend in Winston Hills with you. Just tell me when and I’ll be ready.”

There it was, the thing he hadn’t admitted he’d been waiting to hear. He’d told himself he’d be fine if she said no; that the invitation was casual. That the plan could be moved, adjusted, canceled, or burned to the ground if Lane wasn’t ready. He’d even told himself the trip was only about introducing her to Calla, letting her witness another woman who understood power, control, and survival in a language that might speak to Lane without forcing her to explain herself.

The thought of Lane not coming had bothered him. Not because his plans would be disrupted—he wanted her with him.

Because he’d imagined her in Winston Hills before he’d asked. Walking into Provocateur with those dangerously sultry eyes, taking everything in. Sitting across from him at a wine tasting, laughing when he ordered something too dry and she accused it of tasting like a grudge. Meeting Calla Black and realizing power didn’t have to be cold to be respected.

He wanted her there to build memories that weren’t born of deception or drama. He wanted her there because he loved her. The realization didn’t crash into him; it settled gently and undeniably, like it had been waiting for him to stop pretending surprise was an option.

Lennox exhaled slowly.

Lane’s eyes narrowed. “Why are you breathing like that?”

“Because you said yes.”

“I said I want to spend the weekend in Winston Hills. Don’t turn this into a proposal.”

“Noted,” he chuckled.

She studied him, and the love she had for him was visible in his eyes.

He brushed his thumb over her cheek. “How are you feeling?”

Lane looked away for a moment. There was no performance in it. No sharp answer rushed out to protect the bruise. She took time with the truth, and Lennox recognized the gift.

“I could be worse,” she said, “But with you, everything feels better. Tolerable.”

Lennox kissed her forehead because if he kissed her mouth, he might do too much too soon. “I’ll take tolerable.”

“You should. It’s a generous rating.”

He smiled against her skin. “What do you want for breakfast?”

She told him anything but eggs, and they both laughed. Her smile appeared before she could stop it. The mood shifted slightly when she asked him what to pack for their Winston Hills getaway. His body reacted with pleasure at the way Lane was trying to see what he was planning.

Lane caught it immediately. “Why did you just light up like a scammer with my Social Security number?”

“I love when you ask logistical questions.”

“You love me.”

“I do,” he admitted with ease.

He rolled onto his side, propping his head in one hand as he looked down at her. “Lavender, you’re sexy without instruction, so just do what you do best and bring something sexy for dinner and Provocateur.”

Her eyes widened slightly. “Provocateur.”