“Yeah, well, he thinks you’re gross too.” He frowns like I insulted his actual bloodline before he scoops up Toulouse and cradles him dramatically to his chest. “Don’t listen to the meany, mon amour,” he croons, pressing a kiss to the top of the rat’s head. “You are beautiful. Perfect. A king.”
I snort.
He sets Toulouse down gently in his little cage, then flops back onto the bed and pats the mattress again. “Voilà.”
I don’t move. “I really shouldn’t sit in your bed. I’m sweaty and gross.”
“I so don’t care,” Luc says with a shrug. “But if you do, take a shower.” He nods toward the en suite.
“I’m not showering inyourroom. Withyouin here.”
“Why?” He raises an eyebrow. “Oh… I bet you shower naked. Youhoe.”
A laugh escapes me, and right now, it feels like a small miracle.
Luc abruptly stands and crosses the room in two easy steps, like he’s not making a decision so much as following gravity.
Stopping in front of me, he’s close enough that his warmth rolls off him in waves, hitting my chest first. Then it spreads, sinking into the space between my ribs before curling low in my stomach.
His hands find my waist again, fingers pressing just enough to make me shiver as he pulls me in. I know I should fight it, but I don’t. I’m too tired.
And I like him holding me too much.
As he leans in, I feel every inch of him, his thigh brushing mine, the heat of his breath skating down my throat. He lowers his face to where my collarbone dips into the slope of my shoulder, and his nose brushes the skin there, just above the hoodie’s neckline.
My knees grow weak, and I reach out, one hand curling lightly around his bicep, the dense muscle tense under my touch, the other drifting to his forearm, anchoring myself to him.
“You don’t stink,” he murmurs, lips grazing the sensitive skin beneath my ear. “You smell like me.”
Goose bumps rise along my arms, spine, and the back of my neck.
Then he bites me. Not hard or painful, but a soft, sharp nip right at the edge of my jaw, just beneath my ear, where my pulse is stuttering like it skipped a beat.
I gasp, hips jerking forward a little, unbidden. His teeth drag slightly before he pulls back, and then he does it again.
Another soft nip, followed by a kiss, and this time, the gasp escapes me before I can stop it.
“Why are youbitingme all the time?” The question comes out too breathyand not nearly annoyed enough.
His mouth curls into the smuggest goddamn grin I’ve ever seen. “My love language is gentle acts of violence.”
I stare at him in disbelief, arguing, “That’s not a love language.”
“It isnow.” He starts walking backward toward the bed, and I have to release him as he goes. “Come on.” He pulls back the rumpled covers. “Get in. Let’s talk it out. You look damn tired, and I am too,” he adds, flopping onto the bed dramatically. “Let’s be exhaustedtogether.”
“Luc…” I hesitate, shifting my weight awkwardly.
“I know.” He is suddenly more serious, leaning up on his elbows. “I know you’re not as into me as I’m into you, okay? That’s fine. That’s cool. I’m not a monster.” He lifts a brow. “I’m amulti-purpose friend.I’m down for partying, brunch, six a.m. practice, petty revenge, illegal road trips, deep emotional spirals, and…” he gestures to the spot on the bed beside him and wiggles his eyebrows, “… non-horny cuddling.”
He pats the mattress again. “You get under the covers, and I stay on top. No funny business. Just two dudes, hanging out, talking feelings, and maybe taking a nap.”
He tilts his head, his grin softening just enough to make my chest ache.
“Come on,Petit.Let me be your emotional support himbo.”
Fuck.
I want that. Not just the bed or the soft promise of rest.
