Delilah turned to Macon. “North is looking for you. I’ll take Emma and Luc—” She glanced at me. “Or is it Lucian?”

“Luc is fine.” I said it automatically, having been called Luc for most of my adult life. But I noticed Emma stiffen at my side—because she’d called me Lucian. I didn’t look her way. Not now, with her protectors hovering in front of us.

“I’ll take Luc and Emma to their room.”

Room. She said room. I didn’t imagine that.

No, no I didn’t. Because I soon found myself being ushered into a well-appointed room overlooking the Pacific. Light poured in, slanting across the single king bed against the wall. Through a daze I heard Delilah and Emma talking, Delilah telling us to make ourselves comfortable. On the bed? The one fucking bed?

The door shut, and I blinked, suddenly alone with Emma. In our room.

Hell.

Emma

“I didn’t think this thing properly through.”

I set my bag down by the bed and turned to a scowling Lucian. “What’s got your pants in a twist now?”

I absolutely knew what was upsetting him, and I kind of loved that he was a Grumpy Gus half the time, but I would never stop giving him shit about it.

His glare was green ice, but his expressive mouth quirked. “I didn’t think about this being an overnight trip.”

“Ah.” Wait for it.

Lucian’s gaze moved over the room. It was a very nice room—lovely, even—overlooking the ocean, with a generous en suite bathroom. “I definitely didn’t think we’d be sharing a room.”

There it was.

“I knew you were going to get fussy.”

“Fussy,” he repeated, as though the word was a snake.

“Fussy.” I plopped onto the plush bed and kicked off my sandals. “To be fair, I didn’t expect the whole ‘one room to bind them’ deal either.”

He huffed in reluctant amusement, then crossed his beefy arms over his chest and quirked a brow as I continued.

“But unless we want to embarrass our hosts, which I don’t, and go find a hotel somewhere, which will be less private, we’re stuck with it. So we might as well be adults and suck it up.”

“You’re okay with this?” He stared down at the bed like it just might up and grab him.

“Are you going to try something on me without my permission?”

“No,” he spat, clearly disgusted I’d even suggested it.

I fought a smile. “Do you think I’m going to try something on you without your permission?”

His eyes narrowed. “I get the point, Em.”

I let my amusement show. “It’s a king bed. And granted, you are a big guy, but there’s plenty of room.”

Lucian rolled his shoulders and went to set his bag by the far wall. “How very grown up of you.”

“I like to think so.”

“Hmm.” The sidelong look he slanted toward me sent a bolt of heat and nerves straight through my lying soul. Because I was lying my ass off. The idea of sharing a bed with Lucian Osmond was daunting. I just might roll over in my sleep and cling to him like a monkey. I couldn’t trust my base self not to touch him. In all honesty, I barely trusted myself not to reach for him when I was awake.

Truly, I hadn’t thought this thing out very well either. But I was an actress. I could act like I was fine. But I didn’t think I’d fooled Lucian. The man had a way of seeing right through me. It was damn inconvenient.

Against my will, my gaze slid over the rest of the bed for the briefest moment. It was a big white affair with fluffy pillows and a downy quilt. The temptation to grab Lucian by the hand and say, “To hell with it; just fuck me, please, I beg you” was so strong that my bones vibrated, my breasts growing heavy underneath my top.

Would he do it? Would he drop all his walls and blockades and give me relief from this relentless wanting? Or would he give me that look that said he thought I was ridiculous and then flee the room?

He was giving me a look now, cautious but considering. Exactly what he was considering, I didn’t know. And that was the maddening part.

There were times when I felt as though I knew this man on a bone-deep level that defied how long we’d been in each other’s lives. Something about Lucian made sense to me. I couldn’t explain it further than that. And yet he’d told Delilah and Saint to call him Luc.

Embarrassment uncoiled in my belly. I didn’t even know what name he liked to be called. It felt awful, strange. Reminding me that I didn’t know this man who I’d be sharing a room with at all.

“Should I not call you Lucian?” I blurted out, all needy and uncertain.

A small wrinkle formed between stern brows. “I told you to call me that.”

“You also told me to call you Oz. And for Dee and Saint to call you Luc.”

“I know.” One hand set on his narrow hips, he swiped the other hand over his mouth. “I sound addlepated.”

“Addlepated,” I repeated with a smile.

His answering grin was swift and brilliant, and it took a little of my breath with it. “A Mamie term.”

“Ah.”

His grin faded. “People have always either called me Oz or Luc. That’s what I’m used to. But with you . . .” He paused, his lips parted and that frown returning, reluctant and annoyed. And he shrugged, more like a roll of his shoulder, as though he were trying to loosen the tension there. “You’ve called me Lucian from the start. It sounds right.”

Warmth spread through me, slow like honey.

Our gazes collided and held as something simmered between us. Lucian’s lids lowered in lazy perusal. Of me on the bed. I didn’t miss the way his nostrils flared on a drawn-in breath, the way his dusky skin darkened. A pulse beat in my neck, steady, hard.

“Lucian . . .” It rolled over my tongue like cream.

Honey and cream. I wanted to pour both over those tight abs of his and just lick.

Perhaps he knew that, because he jerked straight. His jaw twitched, and those wintergreen eyes told me to behave. But I didn’t want to. I wanted to tease and tempt him the way he tempted me.

One night sharing a bed with Lucian. I didn’t think I’d survive it.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Lucian

That bed. That fucking bed. It would be the bane of my existence for the next twenty-four hours. That and the image of Emma sitting on the edge of it with a witchy smile that all but dared me to tumble her back and fuck her into the soft covers.