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“I’m sorry for barging in. I thought…” He sighed and ran a hand around the back of his neck. “I don’t know what I thought. It isn’t like anything can get you here. You’re perfectly safe.”
“I’m sorry for waking you.” Unable to help herself, she let herself study him. She’d always thought Lucian a beautiful man but seeing him like this made her stomach feel as if it were falling down, down, down between her thighs.
Pressing his shoulder against the doorframe, he crossed his arms over his chest, his gaze roaming. She noticed, and wondered how it would feel to touch that tanned skin, that dusting of hair. She tightened her hands into fists to keep from thinking about it.
“Having difficulty sleeping?” he asked, his eyes finally meeting hers.
She forced herself to hold his gaze. “Yes.” Heart fluttering, she released her arms and smoothed the gown at her sides. “Actually, I am.”
Lucian cleared his throat and looked down at his feet.
Reflexively, she glanced down as well.
Her gown was transparent.
Her cheeks burning, she crossed her arms over her chest aware it did little to hide the rest of her. “I’m not used to so much space or being by myself.” She shivered again, only this time it wasn’t because of the darkling, nor because she was cold. Instead, she felt like there were bubbles inside her, rising toward the surface and making her jittery.
“Are you cold?”
“A little,” she lied.
“I can warm–” He paused. “I can get you another blanket. I’ll just–” He pushed away from the doorframe.
“Stay?” she asked, then pressed her teeth together, not sure what she was doing, as if she’d been possessed and something else spoke through her. In what world was it ever a good idea to invite someone into her bed? To her surprise, the thought of Lucian wasn’t repulsive, even if he was usually such a jerk. Even if he didn’t like her.
One of his eyebrows rose.
“I mean–” she started. “I was scared. It’s nothing. Forget I said it. Thank you. Good night.” She bobbed a stupid curtsy, then wanted to melt into a puddle on the floor for doing it. There hadn’t been a moment in front of Lucian Uraiahs where she hadn’t been obnoxiously annoying, crying, or horrifyingly forward. She dropped her face into her hands and sighed.
He stepped into the room, shutting the door behind him—surprising her. “I’d be happy to stay until you fall asleep.”
“You would?” She peeked at him through her fingers. He’d stopped in the middle of the room. “I mean… I thought…”
“What did you think?” His brows drew together.
She’d given him an out, and yet he was still there. “You’ve never stayed. With me.” She dropped her hands to her sides, and his eyebrows drifted up. “You always leave…” she added, flushing once more at the insecurity tapping out her heartbeat. “You must think I’m ridiculous.”
His eyes scanned her, starting at her face, roving down, then back up again. When his gaze found hers once more, she shivered, but this time with anticipation.
“That is the last thing I was thinking,” he said, now standing on the opposite side of the bed. He lifted the bedding but didn’t move. “In. You’ve had a stressful and frightening day. I think you’re entitled to some care.” He offered her a warm smile.
Hardly believing this turn of events, she climbed back into the bed. When she’d settled herself, he covered her then sat on top of the covers next to her, his back against the headboard, his long legs stretched out in front of him and crossed at the ankle.
She noticed his bare feet. Tanned. The nice way they were put together, the bones, veins, and sinew. They were straight, perfect. Rather lovely—like everything about him— which was a strange thing to think about feet.
“Is everything okay with your father?” she asked, turning her focus away from his feet to the fabric of his pants, instead. She followed the lines of his legs, noted the way he filled in the fabric, the fullness of his thighs.
Her belly tightened and her breath hitched against a hook of awareness in her chest.
“Not really. But there’s little to be done about it. Tell me what you’re afraid of.”
“Huh?” she asked, not truly having heard him over her heartbeat pounding so loud inside her ears. Her eyes traveled higher, and she attempted to politely skip over his groin, but not before she noted the way his misaligned shirt hung open. The panels split, to drape over his hips, giving her a glimpse of his flat stomach and the trail of hair that disappeared under the unbuttoned fabric of his pants.
“Your nightmare?”
“Oh.” Her cheeks heated further, and she skipped his face altogether, pretty sure he’d caught her looking. Instead, she rolled to her back and stared at the ceiling, tracing the ornate swirls of plaster with her eyes as she tried to get the image of him out of her mind. “It was about the darkling. All those teeth.” She shuddered.
“It can’t get you here.”
