Chapter Twenty-Eight

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

Rosie

There were a few things that could stir me awake with only a whiff. Number one was the smell of smoke, embedded in my brain since that time Mr. Brown decided to microwave a wig at three in the morning. No, I never asked for the whole story. I simply took the experience as a life lesson and rolled with it.

Number two, however, was a far more pleasant way to be welcomed into the day—or night. It was pancakes.

And that was the scent filling my apartment.

My stomach grumbled in delicious anticipation.

Anticipation that soon morphed into a different kind of hunger when I patted the bed and immediately remembered who had been filling that space beside me. Holding me all night. Placing slow kisses on the back of my neck. Wrapping himself around me like he never wanted to let go.

Lucas.

A wave of need surged through me, settling deep in my belly, and pushing me out of the bed like a woman on a mission. I snagged the first piece of clothing I found lying around—Lucas’s hoodie—and slipped it on.

Never in my life had the distance between my bedroom and the kitchen seemed so long.

When I finally reached the threshold of the kitchen, music was filling the space. It was a song I’d never heard before, that Lucas had never played before, but had a bright and upbeat rhythm.

My gaze zeroed in on the man at the stove, pink spatula in hand and apron tied around his trim waist. He was in his boxers, shifting his weight from side to side, in perfect sync with the music, doing a little ass wiggle every couple of beats.

And… Lord. My poor, puffy heart tripped and then swelled at the sight of him, knowing with absolute certainty that I was so gone for this man, it wasn’t even funny.

I must have let out a sound of some kind because Lucas turned. His beautiful grin caught me completely off guard, and I thought I mumbled something stupid like, “Hi.”

His eyes met mine with the same big emotion he had looked at me with last night, when he’d told me he wouldn’t stay away, and said, “Buenos días, Bella Durmiente.”

Lucas’s gaze swept up and down my body. Very slowly. And his smile changed. It didn’t fall, not exactly, but it turned serious, focused, as it thoroughly inspected my legs.

My lips twitched. “But what will you wear then?”

He nodded his head, still distracted. “We’ll figure that out later.”

The laughter I had been holding in escaped my lips and I sounded like a teenager in sweet, sticky love. “Okay, deal,” I told him, delighted to hold that kind of power over him. “But only if you keep dancing.”

I moved to one of the chairs that sat around my kitchen table, taking it out and plopping myself onto it. I braced my elbows on the table and my chin on my fists, waiting.

The smirk that curled his mouth was delicious. “You saw that?”

I nodded.

I pretended to think. “It’s a… nine out of ten from me.”

He placed the spatula on the counter and took one step in my direction. “And this?” he asked repeating his last ass wiggle. “What’s the verdict on this?” His hips swayed left to right, matching the new song’s rhythm.

I made a show out of inspecting his movements. “Oh, that gets you to a nine point five. But probably only because you’ve bribed the jury by giving me all your clothes.”

He let out a deep belly laugh. “You calling me out, Ro?” He stepped in my direction. “Making fun of me because I got a little distracted seeing you prancing around in my clothes, looking ready to eat?”

Lucas stopped in front of me. He leaned down a little. His arm reached out, his hand grabbing the edge of the chair, right below the side of my ass. And then, he pulled the chair—with me on it—in his direction. Bringing me right under him.

He braced a hand on the back of the chair, behind my head.

I exhaled shakily, wanting him to close the distance, to take me in this chair.

He brushed a kiss on the corner of my lips. “I want you so badly already. Again,” he whispered. And it was impossible not to notice his arm flexing beside my head, holding himself back from doing what I desperately wanted him to do. “One look, Rosie. That’s all it takes. That’s all it took.”

I kissed him in response. Because that was the best kind of answer I could ever give him. He groaned deep in his throat, his hand moving to the back of my neck, tilting my head further, angling me so he could part my lips.

Linking my arms behind his head, he somehow pulled me up, bringing us both to a standing position. His other arm wrapped around my waist, letting me feel how hard he was, how much I affected him, how much he wanted me, just like he’d said. So I grabbed on to him even tighter, whimpering. Cursing the thick hoodie hanging off my shoulders. Letting him feel how much I needed him, too.

Lucas broke the kiss, meeting my gaze with a million things dancing in his eyes. “As good as you feel,” he said nonchalantly, like that wasn’t supposed to make me all the more soft and hot. “I’m not letting our breakfast burn. I haven’t gotten over the loss of those pizzas yet.”

My shoulders fell, and I let my arms fall back to my sides as I nodded and readied myself to return to the chair, because if we weren’t going to kiss—or do other sexy things—then I’d settle for a cooking show. But Lucas didn’t let go of my waist, and instead, he turned me around and guided us to the stove.

He assembled behind me, and I felt his breath on my temple. “That didn’t mean I’m giving you up,” he murmured in my ear as he placed the spatula in my hand. “First, breakfast. Then, we’ll go pick up Taco.”

We. Us, together.

He reached for the bowl of batter, stretching an arm and putting his biceps right on my face. Yummy. “Let’s discard that one and start over.”

A glass of water appeared next to my laptop.

Well, it didn’t exactly pop out of thin air. I noticed it had been placed there at some point.

By Lucas.

Since Friday, we hadn’t left my apartment, at least not for more than a few hours to pick up Taco and Lucas’s things once we both accepted that he wasn’t sleeping anywhere else but in my bed. Although, saying that we were sleeping was a bit of a stretch. Not that I was complaining, I’d probably be hanging off him right now if I didn’t have to work. Because I was still on a deadline that was a little less than three weeks away, and as good as my progress had been since Lucas and my experiment began, I still had work to do. Words to write.

But Lucas was right. I was so very close that I could already feel the band at the finish line breaking against my chest as I crossed it.

So even though Lucas’s time in New York, in my apartment, was coming to an end, I worked mornings and afternoons while he lounged somewhere in my apartment, reading one of the many romance books I owned, and made sure I always had snacks and stayed hydrated. We had lunch and dinner together; we walked Taco in the evenings together and snuggled on the sofa every night. And we had sex. More than just good sex. Mind-blowing sex. The best sex of my life.

The fact that he was leaving was a constant in the back of my mind, like a low buzz that I couldn’t ignore but could learn to live with. Because I couldn’t let that sour my time with him. I wouldn’t. So, for once in my life, I decided not to plan. Enjoy the moment. Enjoy him. If this was supposed to last a week, a week was all I’d take. I’d deal with the aftermath when I had to.

Delicious awareness washed down over me at the realization that Lucas was right behind me.

He braced both hands on my desk, caging me in. God, I loved when he did this. “You spaced out, Ro.”

His nose dragged along my cheek, making my skin tingle. “You were staring at the glass of water.” He let out a low laugh. “For a very long time.”

He leaned over me a little more, resting his chin on my shoulder. “Were you thinking about me? About us?”

I blushed, my heart racing at how close to the truth he was. “Maybe.”

I bit my lip. “Possibly.”

He hummed. “Ah, those are my favorite kind of thoughts.”

I turned around very quickly, placing a kiss on his lips, and returning my attention to the laptop. To my manuscript.

Lucas must have been dazzled for a moment because he didn’t say a single word. He just… seemed to need a moment to catch his breath.

I smiled to myself.

I didn’t even try to conceal how happy that made me. “It’s not ready yet.”

It took him a moment to answer. “How about just a taste? A… snippet. A teaser. It’s Tuesday, you owe it to your fans, and I’m your biggest one. Hashtag Team Rosie. Hashtag Teaser Tuesday. Hashtag Friday Kiss.”

My head swiveled very slowly. “Where did you learn that?”

His grin was big and proud, unashamedly beautiful, just like him. “I have my ways. You should know how good of a researcher I am by now.”

No way in hell.

I was extremely proud of this first draft, but I didn’t know how I felt about Lucas reading it when there was so much… inspiration drawn from him. From us.

Delicious warmth filled my belly, but I shook my head.

My lips curled up, unstoppable. “Not many.”

His arms wrapped around my middle from behind, his face burrowing in my neck. “That’s my girl,” he said, my heart losing it just like the first time he’d ever uttered those words. “I’m so proud of you, Ro. So, so proud.” And for some reason, hearing that from him, that he was proud of me, felt like I’d accomplished something big.

Something amazing.

Something extraordinary.

That was how much he meant to me. “All thanks to you,” I breathed out, overwhelmed by my own thoughts. “To your help. Our experiment.”

Tonight was Lucas’s last night in New York. In the States. In my apartment, my bed, my time zone. And with every passing second that pushed us closer to tomorrow morning, my mood plummeted to the ground.

Together with my heart.

During the week we’d spent together in my apartment we never discussed what would come next after he and Taco jumped on that flight and returned to Spain. For good. It had been as if none of us had wanted to burst the blissful bubble we had slipped in. And that was probably a mistake.

Not probably, it definitely was one.

But what was I supposed to say? How would I broach the topic? Hey, Lucas, I have fallen in love with you. And I know your life is in shambles, and I know you are struggling to come to terms with what you’ve lost and who you are right now, but what are we?

That would be so selfish.

Even thinking of burdening Lucas with that conversation made me sick to my stomach. All I wanted was to protect him, to make it all better for him, to see him find his way and thrive in his new life, and I knew this—a long-distance relationship with someone he’d met a handful of weeks ago—wasn’t a way to make any of that easier.

Or was it?

I didn’t know at this point. And it made me so unbelievably sad.

So yeah, my mood. Plummeting.

And Lucas noticed. Of course, he did.

That was why he had been trying to make me smile all evening. He hadn’t even held back in front of Aaron and Lina when we’d met them for his goodbye dinner. He’d held my hand, touched my back, whispered in my ear, and just… acted like the man I wanted him to be for me. Like he was mine.

Standing in the bathroom, in front of the mirror as I brushed my teeth, I checked my phone.

I had a trail of messages from Lina. Understandably so. She knew there was something between us, and I owed her an explanation. But that could wait until tomorrow, I hoped. She could deal with the fallout of my broken heart, too, if she wasn’t too mad at me. Two birds with a stone.

Locking the device, I placed it screen down on the vanity and continued staring into empty space until I was done and ready for bed.

I walked back to the bedroom and found Lucas zipping up his backpack. Taco at his feet. The sight made me want to scream. It made me angry at myself, at time for going by so fast, at fate for crossing our paths only to take him away from me.

What would he say if I took that stupid backpack, ran to the window, and flung it out?

What would he say if I asked him to stay? He couldn’t stay more than three months without a visa. But I could hide him and Taco.

What would he say if I told him that I didn’t care about whatever he thought he could or couldn’t give me? I’d take it. I’d move to Spain myself. I’d—

There was something in his face that looked a lot like… pain. Concern.

He walked up where I was, and his arms came instinctively around my waist.

He nodded.

He let out a laugh, and not even that lifted my mood. “Do you want an honest answer, too?”

I frowned and said through my pout, “Why?”

A kind of pressure I knew very well rushed from my chest to my face, building up behind my eyelids. “Seems pretty irrational to me.”

I exhaled, the burst of air leaving my mouth forcefully. “Well, I’m happy you’re happy.”

Lucas’s chuckle was low, and it made me scoff.

His kiss was slow and soft, and it made me want to cry.

When we came up for air, I struggled to make my vocal cords function. “Lucas?”

I felt his mouth on my forehead, his lips pressing on my skin for a long moment.

I didn’t want him to understand, though.

I wanted him to fight me. To make me say the words I hadn’t yet uttered out loud because he needed them. To tell me that he wouldn’t leave, or that we wouldn’t become nothing but a memory. To tell me that as much as he hadn’t figured out his new life, he wanted me in it. Needed me.

But I couldn’t make him say those things. And I’d understand if he didn’t.

It broke my heart, but I wouldn’t make him put my heart before himself. “Okay,” I breathed out. And when I opened my eyes, I wasn’t ready to see what was staring back at me.

There was an emotion flooding Lucas’s face, his eyes, the way his features were arranged right this moment. As if he was in far more pain than I was. As if he couldn’t bear the thought of leaving. As if he loved me.

Without a word, he clasped my hand and pulled me toward the bed.

And without a word, I went.

He guided me onto my back and braced his hands on each side of my head.

His gaze met mine, and I swore he was looking at me with this emotion I didn’t want to acknowledge out loud. That powerful, all-consuming emotion that mirrored mine.

The answer was so simple, so obvious, that I didn’t even understand why he asked.

I grabbed on to him almost desperately, and told him, “You.”

Because it was only him I needed.