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All wrapped around this big protective beast until he formed a wall between me and a world that’s just getting scarier.
His warmth stays with me, the memory of his powerful arms cradling me while he sprawled out with ease, sheltering me.
Sheltering us both.
It was like an unspoken message.
Like he was telling me, hush and sleep easy, Miss Lilah. Long as I’m around, nothing’s gonna get you.
Every last fiber of my soul believed him.
There’s just one drawback to having a bear of a cop as your personal protector.
When I wake up in the pale pink-gold light of dawn still draped over him, the late summer swelter just about smothers me in a sweaty layer doubled by his body heat.
I shove lightly at the massive sleeping lump in my bed.
He doesn’t even twitch, just snorts and holds me even tighter.
If the heat wasn’t killing me, I’d laugh.
I might as well be a squirming kitten shoving at a bulldog.
After a few more lame attempts to jostle him awake, I reach up and pat his face, loving the sharp scratch of his morning stubble against my fingers.
“Rise and shine, dude. Wake up. Lucas.” Snickering, I smack his face harder. “You’re going to give me heatstroke.”
A drowsy groan rumbles out of him, and though he never opens his eyes, a slurred, half-asleep mumble comes out.
“Then how’re you talking...”
“Magic. Now let go, big boy. I’m sweating half to death.”
His grip finally relaxes and he cracks one green eye open.
“Do I have to?” he whispers. “You feel damn good.”
Oh, God.
That shouldn’t melt me so much.
But I can’t pretend he doesn’t feel amazing, too.
I wouldn’t have been able to stay here last night without him, much less sleep through the night. With Lucas still curled around me, the danger feels more abstract, less real.
I soften, curling my hands against his chest.
“At least let me get the covers off. I’m about to pass out.”
“Mmph.” Lucas shifts his weight.
My breath catches as his lips graze my throat, finding my pulse. He traces the tender marks where he bit me last night—until suddenly he blows a raspberry against my neck.
“Hey!” I burst out laughing, squirming and shoving him again. “You overgrown baby!”
“Don’t think a baby could do the shit I did to you last night,” he teases, loosening his grip on me and shoving the covers back, letting air rush over us, the taste of morning on every breath.
It’s a crazy thing.
The minute I’m free, I want his suffocating warmth back. It’s the perfect counterpoint to the cooling wetness misting my skin.
We’re both naked now, shimmying out of our clothes after our first round.
We settle against each other, enjoying the morning stillness and a few happy birds chirping outside.
I lay my head on his shoulder, cheek on his chest, just listening to his heartbeat drumming away.
It’s so steady, this calming thing that makes me think of all the times we’ve been quiet together, how easy and simple and peaceful it was.
Lucas Graves makes me feel at ease even in the total chaos.
He soothes my jagged edges and blunts my thorns.
Even when I’m ready to take his head off, there’s just something about him that makes it easier to breathe.
God.
I think I’m even starting to like him.
I don’t just mean the sex.
Him him, the man behind the badge and grumping snark.
...honestly, maybe even more than like.
There’s a sweetness fluttering inside me when I feel how he holds me, turning me to soft, warm putty inside.
But I hardly know anything about him.
His parents died when he was young and his poor sister was next. Then he eventually became a cop.
He’s a kind, caring, loyal man who lives out the whole serve and protect oath cops take.
I think he can fix almost anything, from the broken glass in a picture frame to busted steps to wiring up an alarm system.
And he’s lost so much—possibly due to the Arrendells—and he carries that heartbreak with so much dignity and strength in a town just full of people who’d never guess what their benefactors are really capable of and probably wouldn’t believe him if he spoke up.
I get it.
I really do.
Even if Ulysses is overly attentive and weird, even if I’ve heard the rumors about what really goes on at their glam parties where half the guys are snorting coke off supermodels’ asses, even if I’ve seen the Twitter exchanges wondering if they’re somewhere between Armie Hammer’s nightmare family and Epstein island on the creep-o-meter...
All I’ve seen for myself since I moved here is what they claim to be. Rich folks free with their influence and money, seemingly for the good of Redhaven. Eccentric, yes, but welcoming and kind. That’s the face they show the world, and the only world they’ve shown me.
So why do I want to believe Lucas so badly?
Easy.
Because I can’t fathom why he’d lie.
