Page 128 of Lavender and Honey

The sight of him steals my breath. I've seen glimpses before— an arm here, a flash of stomach there— but never the full expanse of him like this. His chest is a marvel of defined muscle and smooth skin, broader than it appears when clothed. A light dusting of dark hair narrows to a trail that disappears beneath the waistband of his sleep pants. There are scars too— a jagged one across his right ribs, another near his shoulder— evidence of a life lived fully, perhaps fiercely. Rather than detracting from his beauty, they enhance it, telling stories his words haven't yet shared.

"See something you like?" Lucian asks, a teasing note in his voice, though I can hear the underlying satisfaction at my obvious appreciation.

"Everything," I admit, my hands reaching up to explore this newly revealed territory. My fingers trace the contours of his chest, marveling at the contrast between us— his hardness to my softness, his breadth to my slenderness.

“You are..." Words fail me as I let my fingers glide over the scars, committing their texture to memory. I wonder about theirorigin, the moments of violence or bravery they signify. But now is not the time to ask. Now is the time to feel, to absorb the reality of him. "Everything," I repeat, more breathless this time, and I know he hears the awe in my voice.

Lucian's response is a low, rumbling laugh that vibrates through him and into me. He leans down, capturing my mouth in a kiss that's gentler than I expect, given the heat still simmering between us. His tenderness undoes me, and I arch up into him, needing more of his touch, more of the delicious friction that only moments ago had me gasping.

His skin is warm beneath my hands, hot even, and I can't stop touching him, can't get enough of this new intimacy. He shifts slightly, settling more of his weight against me, and the new angle makes me moan into his mouth.

"Gods, Lydia," he groans, breaking the kiss with apparent difficulty. His forehead rests against mine, his breath coming in ragged gasps that match my own. "You really are going to be the death of me."

His words echo his earlier admission, but this time they're threaded with something deeper, almost reverent. I smile up at him, feeling wild and unguarded and more alive than I remember being.

"Too many clothes," I whisper again, teasing him, challenging him, wanting him. Lucian's answering groan is raw and unfiltered, full of the need that's crackling between us.

Lucian's eyes meet mine, dark and intense. "You're sure?" he asks, his voice a low rumble that vibrates through his chest and into mine.

I nod, unable to form words around the desire tightening my throat. My hands slide down his sides to the waistband of his sleep pants, fingers hooking into the elastic. His breath catches, muscles tensing beneath my touch.

"Your certainty is the sexiest thing about you," he murmurs, pressing a kiss to the corner of my mouth. "Well, one of many sexy things."

His hand trails down my stomach, creating a path of fire across my skin. When his fingers reach the drawstring of my sleep pants, they pause, waiting for another confirmation that comes in the form of my hips lifting slightly off the couch.

With deliberate slowness, he begins to untie the knot, his eyes never leaving mine.

As Lucian's fingers work the drawstring of my sleep pants, a door creaks somewhere in the house. We both freeze, our breath held in suspended animation. For a moment, the only sound is the faint ticking of the clock on the mantle and the thundering of my heart.

"Lucian?" Elias's voice carries from the hallway, sleep-rough and concerned. "Lydia?"

Lucian drops his forehead to my shoulder with a soft groan that's equal parts frustration and amusement. "In here," he calls back, his voice impressively steady given our current state.

I scramble to grab my sweater, pulling it over my head with fumbling hands just as Elias appears in the doorway. His hair is tousled from sleep, his eyes still heavy-lidded as he takes in the scene before him— Lucian shirtless, me disheveled, both of us flushed with obvious desire. His expression shifts from concern to understanding, and then to something more complex.

"I woke up and you were gone," he says, his voice soft as he leans against the doorframe. "Wanted to make sure everything was okay."

"Everything's fine," I manage, my voice huskier than normal. "I couldn't sleep. Lucian was keeping me company."

Elias's eyebrow arches, a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth. "I can see that." There's no judgment in his tone,no jealousy— just a warm amusement that somehow makes the situation less awkward than it should be.

Lucian shifts slightly, creating a more respectable distance between us, though his hand remains a warm presence on my knee. "Couldn't sleep," he explains with a casual ease I envy. "Found Lydia who came into the kitchen to make some tea. We were just… talking.”

He runs a hand through his already disheveled hair, a gesture that does nothing to diminish how utterly desirable he looks with his bare chest and flushed skin.

The pause is deliberate, laced with meaning that makes Elias's smile widen. He pushes away from the doorframe and moves further into the room, his movements fluid and unhurried despite the hour.

"Talking," he repeats, the word rich with amused disbelief. "Is that what we're calling it now?"

I feel heat rise to my cheeks, but there's something liberating about being caught— about not having to hide or pretend. Elias's easy acceptance, the lack of tension or jealousy in his posture, makes the moment feel less like an interruption and more like a natural progression.

"Among other things," Lucian admits, his hand squeezing my knee gently. The touch is reassuring, grounding.

"Should I leave you two alone?" he asks, the question genuine despite the teasing lilt in his voice. "Or is there room for one more in this late-night gathering?"

The offer hangs in the air between us, laden with possibility. My heart, which had just begun to slow, picks up speed again. I look from Elias to Lucian.

Lucian's eyes meet mine, a silent question in their depths. His expression is open, allowing me to set the boundaries, to choose how this night unfolds. I feel a surge of gratitude for hisconsideration, even as desire continues to simmer beneath my skin.

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