“I want to see them.” I tugged his hand down, and he let me. Reaching out, I traced the pattern of his freckles. They were in the shape of . . . of . . . “Is that a star?”
His cheeks turned even redder. “Yeah. Ma always said it was a sign I was destined to be a star. She was obviously wrong.”
I drew the star on his shoulder. I hadn’t known the significance before, but he had a matching star tattoo on his other shoulder, right above his piercing. A memorial to his mother. The love I had for him, pure and strong, punched me in the chest. It choked me, catching in my throat, but I swallowed it down. “Your mother was a very wise person.”
“No. She was wrong. I’m not a star; I’m a criminal.” His Adam’s apple bobbed. “She’s dead, and Scotty wants me dead, and if I’m not careful, you’ll be dead, too.”
My heart twisted. “Lucas—”
“Don’t.” He ruffled his hair and let out a long sigh. “Just don’t.”
I wanted to argue, to beg him not to shut me out again, but what was the point? As real as all this might feel to me, it wasn’t real to him. He didn’t want to open up to me, and any connection I felt was one-sided. He reminded me of the fact that this was temporary enough times to get that point across. “Are you going to run off to work on cars again?”
He lifted a shoulder. “I should. I think best when I’m alone, when my hands are busy and no one talks to me.”
“Is that why you only work on them in the middle of the night, when no one else is there?”
“No. I only work on them in the middle of the night when no one else is there because I’m not actually a mechanic.” He stepped out of his boxers and stretched. Every lean muscle of his taunted me. “But if I was, I’d still want to work alone. I do everything best when I’m alone.” He shot me a smirk. “Well, minus one thing, anyway.”
I rolled my eyes and snorted. “Wow. Smooth.” I faced the wall and curled up on my side. I didn’t want to watch him leave me again, even though I’d never expect anything else from him. “Have fun with your cars.”
He sighed. “Good night, sweetheart.”
“Night,” I murmured.
Closing my eyes, I waited for him to walk away. To do what he did best, to retreat behind a wall of loneliness and ice. So when he cursed, and the bed dipped under his weight . . . I almost missed it. He lay down beside me, pulling the blanket over himself, too. He rubbed his cheek against mine. “You can relax, sweetheart. I don’t bite . . . hard.”
I held my breath, sure if I breathed, he’d remember I was here and leave. But he didn’t. He pulled me into his arms and curled his body around mine. I still didn’t move. Instead, I lay there, blinking at the wall. I’d never been so shocked to have someone touch me before. I forced my muscles to chill the hell out. “. . . What are you doing?”
“Um.” He chuckled, the sound innately sexy as hell. “Last I checked, but don’t quote me on this, it’s called ‘spooning.’ I believe it’s what people do when they sleep together. I’ve never done it before, but I figured I’d give it a go.” He rolled his hips against my ass, his erection brushing against me insistently. “Turns out, it feels good.”
I laughed, too. “Well, yeah. But why are you doing it with me?”
“Because we fucked, and now I’m tired, and this is my bed, too.” He nipped at my shoulder. “Though this position isn’t exactly conducive to sleep, is it?”
A moan escaped me. “Not when you’re doing that.”
His hand slid down the curve of my hip and slid inside my thighs. “Damn. You feel good, darlin’.”
“Lucas . . .” I whispered, my voice breathy.
“Don’t make this into something huge.” His hand stopped its descent. “I’m just sick of sleeping on the couch.”
Glancing over my shoulder, I tried to read his expression, but it was too dark. “I can sleep out there, if you want.”
“I don’t want that.” His arms flexed around me, holding me even closer. “You know why I’m here tonight,” he said gruffly. “I’m not gonna fucking say it.”
But, God, I wanted him to. I wanted to know if what he was saying was what I wanted him to say—or if this was just one moment of bliss before we parted. Because my gut told me it was the latter, as much as I might hope it was the former. Despite the doubts plaguing me and the questions running in circles in my mind, I snuggled in closer, hiding my smile in my pillow, and went to sleep.
CHAPTER 27
LUCAS
Warm, naked skin was pressed against me, and an arm was thrown over my chest. If I wasn’t mistaken, a leg was over mine, too, and it felt like I’d died and gone to heaven. The Saturday-morning sun shone through the curtains, warming my bare shoulders, and the slight hint of a peachy scent teased my senses.