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“No.” I let out a snort-laugh and quickly place my palm over my mouth to cover that godawful sound. But I can’t for the life of me stop laughing.
“I’m sure I could tell you a lot of stories about my past that would shock you.” Lucian continues toward me with the stealth of a cheetah about to strike.
My laughter subsides when he stops at the foot of the bed. Without a word I lean across and lift the covers beside me, a silent invitation.
“You want me to sleep with you?” Lucian questions, almost in shock.
“This is your bed. It isn’t right you’re sleeping on the sofa.”
“Yes. After all, you’ve already demonstrated your utter disdain for the piece of furniture that I hold so dear to me.” His words slice through me because I feel awful for saying what I did about his grandmother’s sofa. But if I’m not mistaken, I could swear he’s laughing from the way his body jerks up and down.
“Not funny,” I say, and, grabbing a pillow from behind my head, I launch it at him.
He reaches up and catches it mid-flight before approaching the side of the bed. The mattress dips as he sits down, and, with his back toward me, he takes a slow inhale of breath. “I am going to find it incredibly hard sleeping beside you and keeping my hands to myself.”
“That can be easily fixed.” I grab one of the large bolsters and place it in the middle of the mattress as a dividing line. “There. You will sleep on your half, and I will sleep on mine.”
He turns his head to face me. “That kiss tonight, do you regret it?”
I consider his words for a moment, and in all honesty, I don’t know how to answer. It’s only been a day and yet everything is happening so fast, too fast. The fake engagement, being introduced to his friends, his family, and then attending a charity gala filled with the rich and famous—it’s enough to make a girl giddy.
“I don’t know,” I answer honestly.
Lucian nods. “Thank you.”
“For what?”
Lucian pivots around and places his legs on the mattress. “For giving me hope. I want to use our time together wisely and get to know you.”
“As a friend?”
“No, Chelsea, I’m afraid I will never and can never be your friend.” Cool air fans around me as Lucian pulls the covers over him. He lies on his back and stares up at the ceiling. “You have my word that I won’t try to have my wicked way with you in the night. If you can promise me the same.”
I stifle a laugh. I’d have elbowed him if the bolster wasn’t in the way. Like Lucian, I lie on my back and stare up at the high domed ceiling. “I’m a virgin,” I say, matter-of-fact.
“And I’m the king of England,” Lucian says in a light-hearted tone. But when I remain silent, he turns his head and looks at me. “Are you serious? How is a twenty-something-year-old as beautiful as you still a virgin?”
With my gaze trained on the ceiling I let out a slow exhale. “I’m not going to lie, I’ve come close, many times, but something always prevented me.”
Lucian doesn’t speak, and his silence goads me to continue.
I blow out my cheeks. “Because I’ve never wanted to hand another person that kind of control before.”
“Why are you telling me this? Are you worried I will try something in the middle of the night? Because you have my word that I won’t.”
“I want you to be my first,” I blurt out, and pull the quilt over my face in fear my cheeks are glowing red like a beacon. To my surprise, Lucian doesn’t pull the quilt from my head, giving me the time and space I need. Slowly, I lower the quilt and attempt to swallow away my embarrassment. “When the time is right, I want you to be my first.”
“Why me?”
Lucian’s question confuses me as much as my statement has undoubtedly confused him. I could answer with just about anything—that he is here, and he is now—but that would be a lie. The truth is that at twenty-six years old I feel ready to let someone in, I want to feel that closeness with someone. But not just someone. I want it with him. Lucian is the first man to have pulled me out of my comfort zone and taken away my control. To my surprise, I don’t feel as though I am drowning. I feel as though I’m afloat, and he is my lifeboat.
It meant something that Lucian helped me clean up my flat, it meant something when he had my nephew’s clothes dry-cleaned. Against my better judgement, and despite everything inside me screaming at me to see sense, I have to admit that Lucian means something. I know our engagement is fake, and when I wake up in a month from now I will be alone in my own bed, but that doesn’t matter. I don’t want to wake up in a month as the same play-it-safe person I am now.
Lucian drums his fingers against the mattress, and I figure he is waiting for my answer. So I say the words that are burning on the tip of my tongue. “Because I trust you.”
“Even after I propositioned you two years ago for sex?”
The pillow rustles as I nod. “Yes. Because I don’t know who that Lucian was back then, but what I do know is that he isn’t the same Lucian lying beside me now.”
