I hope everything’s ok.
Normally I’d be really worried about what’s going on, but since it’s probably Franc—rough relationship or not, Lucky tries to keep things respectful with his mom—I’m not. I’m also super distracted by Lucky’s butt, so there’s that too.
It’s funny what pulling your head out of your ass can do; put you in touch with a rollercoaster of emotion, gives you a hella appetite. It stirs your long-forgotten sex drive. Who knew?
Lucky senses me behind him and quickly ends the call. “Franc,io devo andare. Si. Audio.”
He tosses his phone on my bed, the bed he completely remade while I showered, and turns a smile my way.
Then he pushes his arms into the short sleeves of his black t-shirt and pulls it down over his head, further still over his ridiculously defined pecs and eight pack, and my super neglected vag does a happy dance because, come on,eight pack.
I may have initially been terrified of the idea of intimacy, and I still kind of am, but my mind has totally made its way into the gutter. Which is exactly where I should have expected to find the answer to how slow I plan to set our pace.
Watching Lucky get dressed made me want to light every stitch of his clothing on fire just so he has to walk around naked. We don’t have to have sex,yet, but I bet he’s pretty while he’s totally naked.
“There’s food downstairs if you’re that hungry,” Lucky says with a smirk, no doubt noticing the way I’m biting the hell out of my lip as I shamelessly check him out. “And I see that thishasbecome a thing, this shit where you stand in the doorway of your bathroom and watch everything like a huge creep.”
That comment finally snaps me out of whatever the fantasy was that started to unfold in my head, and I straighten up, blushing my pasty pale ass off as I do.
I tug my shirt down, peeling it off my damp skin while I watch him grab his phone and set it on the bedside table closest to the door, parallel to his keys and wallet, perpendicular to the edge. My eyes immediately search for his shoes, still on the floor, perfectly lined up straight, then shift my gaze to the hamper to see that he folded his dirty clothes before putting them inside.
That’s pretty much as settled as Lucky gets, his smaller OCD rituals making him feel right at home and totally locked in. It’s why we’ve always worked so well.
I’m a tornado and Lucky likes righting my path of destruction.
“You’re staying again?”
He nods and walks over to me. “But only if you want me to. I don’t want to crowd you.” Lucky lifts his hand to my cheek and traces my freckles before he slides his thumb over my lower lip and gently frees it from between my teeth. “And you know if Istay, there’s a better than likely chance they will, too, but again, no one wants to overwhelm you.”
“I know.” I lean into his touch as he gently grips the side of my neck and I tilt my head to look up at him. “I don’t want you to go.”
“Then I’ll stay.” He leans down and kisses me so sweetly I just melt. Then he straightens up with that million dollar smile, and turns to head downstairs. “And so will they. You coming?”
I wish.
“In a minute.” I lick my bottom lip out of habit and grin when I see how Lucky tracks the movement as I walk over to the nightstand and grab my phone from the drawer. “You made a promise that I can’t break.”
With that, I grab my cigarettes and head to the balcony to have an incredibly unpleasant conversation with the only woman on the planet who could probably kill someone through a phone.
“Girl, I was not joking when I said you’d be the death of me!” Justine skips the greeting altogether before the first ring even finishes.
“Ah, my sweet Leonor!Bonjour, belle!” Pierre croons in his brassy, upbeat melody.
Great.
I’m on speaker.
Which is rarely a good thing.
“Would you stop that!” Justine snaps. “She cannot go almost forty-eight hours without checking in with at least one of us then be greeted with compliments!”
“But my love, she is with the boys. She has been since she left us yesterday.”
I light a cigarette and roll my eyes, but I can’t help the smile on my face as I listen to them bicker.
“I don’t care if she’s withthe pope! I want phone calls. Besides, you don’t know if they’ve been there the whole time. They could have left, she could have spiraled, you don’t?—”
“Ah, but I do know.” Pierre chuckles. “How do I know, you ask? I know because you told me when Lucius answered Leonor’s cell phone. I know because you told me each time you spoke to Markus, Norman or Peter, which totalstreizetimes and counting. I know because you have been walking around reassuring yourself that Lucius has been stranded at her apartment all day, that the boys are shopping for her so they can feed our sweet Leonor. My love, you are being ridiculous.”
