Page 51 of Contingently Yours
Holy shit. The grumpy bastard can sing! His voice is low and sexy as he holds my gaze and stands up to me in song form.
I know he still wants to kill me, but the eerie resolve behind the hostility in his eyes makes it seem like he’s singing about me as he enunciates each word. The room suddenly feels overcrowded and warm. My pulse skips a beat as I mumble the harmony and stare at the steadfast conviction in his eyes. I feel…seen. Seen like no one else has ever seen me, nor even bothered to try.
He basically said that earlier, but I was too busy trying to brush him off. His exact words were,‘Because I’ve seen the worst in you and know it’s all bullshit.’They make my stomach flip hard as they sink in deeper.
Iamkind of full of shit most of the time, if I’m being honest. And apparently, he knows it. And…he still thinks I’m redeeming?
Why am I staring at his mouth? It’s getting…harder to breathe, and I’m warm. All over.
Oh, God…
No…
Lucas Everettecannotbe myJohn Stamos. Bonnie Tyler, what have you done to me?
Something in his expression changes, softening his features as his gaze canvases my face. It looks like recognition and opens a cavern in my chest, a giant, Lucas-sized cavern that feels like it can only be filled by him.
Mason starts singing again, and I realize we’ve trailed off. Tearing my gaze away, I laugh airily and focus on the notes. When we finish, the guys applaud. Dario leaves and returns with more beverages from the kitchen, turning this into a makeshift karaoke party. As I field requests, I do everything I can to put on a good show and not sneak a glance at Lucas.
I’ve never been self-conscious about my playing. Probably because I rarely ever play for anyone. The average Joe might be intent on impressing Mason right now and getting him to put in a good word for them in the music industry, but my curiosity is focused solely on wondering if the man beside me, who’s kicking off body heat and smelling way too intoxicating, is enjoying it.
I’m thirsty for Lucas Kool-Aid. Not in a way that I wonder how many flavors of his I could taste. That’s the damnedest thing about it. I just want to drink in the fact a hair-braiding warrior with morals I’ve never known, maybe sees something good in me, like the sun shines out of my ass.
In my years of gallivanting, it was never outside my understanding that I was both using and being used by the company I’d link up with for the night. It never bothered me or them. That was the arrangement up front. There’s something about the idea of being appreciated instead, however, that is so shiny and new, I couldn’t make myself stop wanting it if I tried.
I was wrong. I don’t think it’s a power kink luring me to Lucas, after all. I think it might be awe.
Lucas and I finish off the bottle of wine I brought in over the course of the longest hour of my life as the Hepperlys laugh, sing, and tell stories. I can feel the tension between us, a thick blanket of heat and mutual need as the minutes drag on. Is he feeling it, too?
The power flickers back on, and our trio erupts in cheers. Thank fuck that seems to make them give up on karaoke, and they gather up their empties.
We all walk back down the hallway. My hand bumps into the back of Lucas’. The rush of heat it sends across my skin has me feeling lightheaded. The Hepperlys stop in the kitchen, leaving Lucas and me both standing dumbly awaiting their next move. Why aren’t they going back to bed? It’s evening now.
“You guys hungry?” Keenan asks. “We were thinking of getting food delivered.”
“No, thanks,” Lucas and I say in unison.
I smile at them, hoping it alleviates the awkwardness of how we sound like twins. Reaching down, I take his hand in mine, silently praising Bonnie Tyler when he doesn’t pull his away.
“I think we’ll call it a night. We’ve got a house to show you tomorrow,” I joke.
My pulse flutters as Lucas moves when I do, accompanying me down the hall to our room. He doesn’t throat punch me or drop his hand from my grasp the entire way, not even once we step inside. It gives me hope. Maybe he’s willing to extend some of those good graces of his. I sure hope so, because I need to know…
My nerves are the equivalent of a tightly coiled spring as I drop his hand and close the door.
Although the power is back on, I’m grateful that our room lights are off, the space only illuminated by the moon. I stare at him, and he stares back, cautious and questioning. The silence is as thick as pillow filling. It’s clear he’s said all he has to say. I know I’m up, but nothing comes.
Clearing my throat, I’m sure there are more delicate ways to ask, but I don’t know how to be delicate or ask for things. “Tell me,” I blurt.
“What?”
“The redeeming shit I don’t deserve to hear.”
His posture tenses, and he looks away. His answer comes after a beat, barely audible. “No.”
Stepping closer, I watch his lips part. His tongue comes out to wet them, making me want to groan. He’d kiss me, but he’s hoarding his secret compliments like treasure. Fucking cruel. I’m only human here.
I don’t think I’ve ever felt more helpless. Whispering, I hope my request sounds more humble this time. “Tell me.”
