Page 102 of Lorcan's Obsession

Very soon, I was going to have to face it head-on.

But tonight, I was going to relax. We had won the arbitration case this afternoon, and Lorcan had promised to make this evening extra special. And the moment I opened the door to his place, I knew he was going to make more than good on his word.

Dim amber lights illuminated the apartment, and soft slow jazz emanated from inside. As I walked in, my heel landed on something soft yet unfamiliar. I looked down at my shoe, and my breath caught.

Hundreds of red, pink, and white rose petals were strewn across the floor, nearly carpeting the foyer. Their delicate floral perfume was delightful, soothing my senses. But upon closer examination, the petals weren’t scattered haphazardly; they lead towards the dining and kitchen area.

The dining table was set with the finest china, and the wine glasses were positively exquisite with their intricately crafted stems. Four cherry-red candles stood to attention at their dinnertime outposts, perched on pure silver candlesticks. Guided by the petals on the ground, I walked around the length of the entire dinner table, taking in the gorgeous view. As I did, I couldn’t resist the urge to brush my fingers along the tassels fringing the silken tablecloth.

At my place setting, there was a single red rose lying across the plate. A small grin spread across my face. The last time Lorcan incorporated roses on a dinner date, he had simply bought out a five-star restaurant for the night. This…this was so much more intimate and personal.

More scrumptious scents wafted out from the kitchen. Savory seasonings and an earthy flavor, and was that…a pie? Some fruity dessert, I couldn’t say what, but it smelled wonderful and made my mouth water.

I wouldn’t have to wait for long. My floral trail led to the kitchen. And there, at the stove, was my boyfriend, grilling salmon and humming along to the music playing through the apartment. Every few seconds, he would croon out a couple of lyrics and move with the rhythm before returning to his culinary post. He was barefoot and shirtless, wearing only gray sweats and a cooking apron. I salivated at his chiseled torso and his muscled biceps.

As was like a sex god dancing and humming around the kitchen.

I couldn’t deny the feelings inside me any longer. I was hopelessly in love with him—beyond the point of return.

And I longed—gods, I craved—to be as open and carefree with Lorcan as he was being tonight. But I couldn’t. Lorcan would never accept the double life I’d been living. Once he knew what I’d been hiding from him, he would question everything else I had ever told him and I wasn’t ready to open that can of worms.

“Hm-mm.” I cleared my throat, swallowing the hot blades of regret. The beginning of us could be our end.

Lorcan turned around, his silver eyes dancing. He pointed to his apron. "Kiss the Chef, or He’ll Burn the Meal." Shaking my head with a laugh, I rushed over to him and threw my arms around his neck. Our lips met in a slow searing kiss.

“It smells delicious in here,” I said as we pulled away. My hands ran up and down his naked torso, his warm skin igniting a fire inside me.

“The salmon is almost finished, and there’s a pear tarte tatin in the oven. It’s just how Mom would bake it. Should be done any minute now.” He ran his fingers through his hair excitedly, making it stick up in all directions.

God, this heartwarming side to him melted my icy heart. Lorcan looked so carefree, so eager, so…content. All because I was here beside him.

Was this what falling in love felt like? To know without a doubt you brightened every day of another’s life? To feel your heart leap for joy at the very thought of them? To wake up and sleep to blissful thoughts of them?

Was that how he felt about me?

“She’d be really proud of you, Lor,” I said, my throat suddenly tightening. I masked the croak in my voice by giving him another quick kiss.

“Here, the best view to watch the chef at work.” Lorcan lifted me up with those muscular arms, his wolf tattoo flexing as he lowered me onto his marble island. “Are you ready to be spoiled rotten tonight?” he asked, handing me a glass of my favorite champagne.

“Spoiled?” I fluttered my lashes innocently, relishing a sip of the tangy drink. “I simply came here to celebrate your win, Mr. CEO.”

“My win?” He chuckled softly as he lit the candles. “You are my ultimate win, mo cuishle.”

Whistling happily, he began setting out the meal. I pushed myself off the counter.

“And what does ‘mo coosh-la’ mean?”

Lorcan wound his arm around my waist, drawing me close. Then, he took my hand and gently pressed it against his chest.

“Mo cuishle,” he whispered, “means you are the reason my heart beats.”

Silence fell between us. The energy between us changed from playful banter to potently charged. Our chests rose and fell together like the ocean waves lapping against the sandy shores. Tonight was a celebration of us, of what we had become over the past months.

Deep down, I knew now was the time to bare my soul. To tell Lorcan that nothing mattered more than him. That I needed him as much as he needed me. That my life was better because he was in it.

“I-I want you to spend the weekend at my place,” I blurted out.

My heart pounded in my throat. Once we crossed that line, there was no going back. Lorcan would know everything about me.

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