Page 51 of Born for Lace

Then, something beside me moves. I peer over and see Spero in a nest of blankets, staring at his hands, quietly getting to know each digit.

A wave of joy moves inside me, my heart singing, ‘You. It’s you. All of this is for you, sweet baby.’

Right, it’s time.

Steadily, I swing my legs around and find my feet dangling, a foot from the floor at least.

I look at the ground, knowing I have to slide off and take a little drop. The bed is high, which makes sense, seeing that Lagos is a behemoth.

Indecision suddenly stops me from taking the small plunge. Maybe I should call out to Lagos for help. Common sense inside me says to ask for a hand down. Pride holds my tongue.

Lagos might be rude and a bigot, and I want to hide my heart deep inside my chest when I am with him…

I clear my throat. But hehasalways helped me when I needed him. If only his caring actions matched the words spouted from his lips. He just… infuriates me.

I peer down at his shirt, a curtain of black that rolls over my knees to my calves. My nipples pebble inside the oversized fabric, and I blush. My body reacts to him, betraying me—eyes refuse to look away from his sculpture form, fingers knead to feel the fluid movement of his muscles.

But my heart will toughen.

He is a forty-something-year-old Xin De monster, and I am a young Common girl born for lace. We are not the same. He will never feel and love the way I do or be vulnerable and curious the way that I am.

“Don’t you dare.”

I look up to find him standing in the open door. A formidable force like him should come with thunder, not silence.

Bury your heart.

Still feeling my nipples beading, I swallow as he stares at me in his shirt. His brows draw in, and he moves to the bed, getting into my space. His warm magnetism moves me, pulling, pushing.

“Arms around my shoulders.” His deep voice caresses my ear. Abruptly, he scoops me from under my backside. I hold my breath and his neck as he takes my weight, before carefully setting me on the floor.

His hands are still on me. So close. My chest touches his, his warmth embraces me, his scent becomes the only thing I can smell, and we don’t let go.

Time… just… slows.

Does he like his hands on me? Do I feel nice beneath his rough fingers? Do I smell nice?

I like your hands on me, Lagos.

Or maybe it’s the Opi.

Quietly, I peer up the massive torso above and against me. I stare into his intense steel-coloured gaze. “What happens when we get to the Common Community? You leave us there, and then what should I do?” I don’t know where that comes from… I know the answer; I take care of Spero. My Purpose. I raise him. That’s what I do.

His hums. “Live with your kind.” When he straightens, my hands slide from his shoulders. “They farm.” His voice flattens, closing off emotionally. “They are all Common. They’ll teach you how to live like your own kind.”

With what seems like a great effort, he edges backward, adding space between us.

I want to reach out and grip his shirt, pull the big brute in and kiss him. I wonder what it would be like to have him kiss me… To kiss me like he kissed Beauty—where he kissed Beauty.

My head lolls.

But I stand taller.

He’s looking at me. I like it. Now he can see all of me looking like a pile of red hair and slim white limbs. I shuffle, my knees rubbing together nervously. I pinch the bottom of the shirt drowning me, and shrug. “It’s a bit big.”

His dark eyes dip down my body, stopping at my bare feet and flicking back to my face. I blush under that sharp gaze.

A smooth grin pushes his lips out. “Well, I am a bit bigger than you.”

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