Page 115 of The Obedient Lie
He was quiet for a moment, breathing deep like he was trying to anchor himself.
Then he shifted behind me, pulling back slightly.
“If I don’t get up right now,” he muttered, “I’m gonna lose the last of my self-control and fuck you.”
I didn’t answer—but I felt the blush creeping everywhere.
He groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “Naked and blushing in my bed…” he leaned over, kissed the side of my head, voice low and strained. “Baby, you’re killing me.”
And then he stood.
Tossed on a hoodie, ran his fingers through his hair, and looked back at me like he still wasn’t sure leaving was the right call.
“I’m going to the gym,” he said finally.
I rolled over slowly, still warm from where his body had been pressed to mine.
“Can I stay in your bed for a bit?” I asked, voice soft, a little shy. I half expected him to tell me to get out.
The sheet had slipped lower with the movement, showing my breasts. I reached instinctively to pull it back up—but his hand was already there, tugging the covers gently over me.
His eyes lingered for a second before he leaned down and kissed the side of my head again.
“If it was up to me,” his mouth at my ear, “you’d live in it.”
Then he left—quiet, steady—like if he didn’t walk out right then, he wouldn’t leave at all.
I was slipping on my rings when the door opened.
Luca.
He stood in the doorway, backlit by the hall, and for a second… he didn’t move.
His eyes scanned the room like he couldn’t quite make sense of it. Like he wasn’t sure if it was real.
He looked awful.
Pale. Wired. His jaw was set too tight, and his hands wouldn’t stay still. He’d barely slept—that much was obvious. Something darker lingered behind his expression, something that hadn’t let him go all night.
“Bastion’s okay.” I said, I could hear the question without him saying it, “He’s at the gym,” I said gently, keeping my voice low. “Or… that’s where he said he was going. Three hours ago.”
Luca didn’t respond. Just nodded once. Then crossed the room and sat heavily on the edge of his bed, his elbows resting on his knees.
He stared at the floor like it was the only thing keeping him anchored.
I didn’t hesitate.
I walked to him and placed a hand on his shoulder.
“Let me help.”
“I’m fine,” he muttered.
I didn’t argue. Just nodded like I believed him. “Okay.”
But I didn’t move.
I looked at him—really looked. His eyes were bloodshot, rimmed red. His body looked like it had been held too tightly for too long.
