Page 103 of Broken Breath
He doesn’t relent even an inch. “Just came back from the club. Doesn’t matter.” His eyes continue searching mine, and his expression softens slightly. “What’s going on?”
I shrug. “I’m fine.”
“Sure you are.”
“You’re wasting your time,” I mutter, brushing my face with the back of my sleeve, trying to erase the evidence.
He breathes out slowly, his eyes softening even more. “Then let’s waste it right.”
I brace myself instinctively, body rigid, but his hands are gentle as he pulls me forward until I fall into him and the hug he is offering.
His arms wrap around me like it’s nothing, and he’s done it a hundred times before.
But he hasn’t.
No one has.Not like this.
I don’t know what to do for so many reasons because if I lean in and accept it fully, he might feel my chest and figure me out. If I accept it emotionally, I might start sobbing again.
So, I just keepmy hands awkwardly between us, palms pressed flat against the front of his hoodie, and focus on nothing but his rapid heartbeat.
His breath brushes the top of my head before he rests his chin there like he’s gearing up to stay here for a good long while.
“Breathe,Petit.”
I want to tell him to fuck off, to release me, to stop acting like he cares, but he’s so warm, and he smells like lavender oil.
And I’m just hurting inside and out and so fucking tired.
So, I lean in,just for a second.
Luc squeezes me and hums in approval before he shifts, bending down just enough to get his arm under my knees, the other still behind my back, and thenliftsme clean off the floor.
“What the fuck are you doing?” I sputter, instinctively locking my legs around his waist to keep from tipping backward. I should’ve known better than to expect Luc to stay still. My hands grab fistfuls of his hoodie, too startled to be graceful about it.
Luc walks us toward the hallway. “We’re going to talk. Or hug this out, but not here, it’s not the vibe.”
“I can walk,” I mutter, glaring at the side of his neck.
He chuckles. “Yeah, but you wouldn’t walk in the direction I want you to.”
I want to argue, I really do, but my limbs feel like lead, and my head is a mess, and honestly, it feels kind of good not to have to make the next decision. His hard stomach is right up against my pelvis, and suddenly I’mverygrateful I forgot to pull out the rolled-up socks shoved in my boxers.
The steady motion of being carried lulls me. I rest myforehead against his shoulder as my eyes drift shut, and I do nothing but exist in his arms.
Every few seconds, a hiccup jerks through my chest, leftovers from the crying and the reasons for the crying.
Luc’s hand rubs slow, steady circles over my back like he’s trying to soothe a wounded animal. Maybe he is.
By the time he unlocks his hotel room door and kicks it shut behind us, I’ve drifted firmly between asleep and awake. He lowers me gently onto my feet, hands careful at my waist, and I blink around, dazed.
As I’m trying to steady myself, he plops down on the edge of the bed, patting the space next to him. All I can do is stare, unable to process what is happening, how I allowed myself to end up here.
The bed is a mess, covers half off, pillows sideways, but it’s what is in the middle of his bed that makes me pause. There, curled up, fast asleep like he owns the damn room, is his rat, and I can barely hold back the shudder threatening to race through me as I wrinkle my nose.
Luc follows my gaze and scowls. “Why do you hate my son?”
“I don’thatehim.” I cross my arms. “It’s just… his naked tail issogross.”
