Page 140 of The Obedient Lie
And this time, I meant it.
Even as their hands stayed exactly where they were.
Even as sleep came slower—warmer—than it should have.
I was in the bathroom, smoothing moisturiser along my cheeks, when I leaned closer to the mirror, squinting.
A line. Maybe. Just above my jaw.
I frowned and leaned in further.
That’s when I saw him.
Luca.
He’d slipped in behind me without a sound, his reflection taking up the space behind mine—bare chest, storm-dark eyes, that ever-present undercurrent of want in his expression.
I turned slowly, still touching my face. “Do you see it?” I asked, tipping my chin up toward him. “Right here—like a crease?”
His hand came up, warm and steady, cupping my face.
His thumb brushed the spot gently, like I might bruise.
“All I see,” he said, “is perfection. Andours.”
My breath caught.
He kissed my cheek, slow and deliberate, before dragging his gaze down my body.
That’s when I remembered what I was wearing—my soft cotton sleep set, all innocent lines and loose fit.
His jaw flexed.
“You know what’s harder than trying not to touch you?” he murmured, voice rough. “Not seeing you in satin.”
My stomach fluttered.
“It’s like watching the sun set through glass instead of standing outside under it. Still beautiful, but fuck—it’s not the same.”
I stared up at him, heartbeat a wild staccato.
“I didn’t think you noticed,” I whispered.
“Oh, I noticed, baby.” His voice dipped lower. “I always notice.”
His hand trailed from my cheek to my jaw, down my neck—but stopped there.
Paused.
Respectful. Barely.
“I’ll see you in bed,” he said, voice tighter now. “Unless you want help finding something… softer to wear.”
Then he left, door clicking softly behind him, leaving breathless.
Perfection.
Ours.
