Preciosa.
I didn’t need to know what that meant exactly, not when he was looking at me the way he did, making that flutter intensify. Multiply. So much that I’d never know how I stood there and took the compliment with a straight face when all I wanted was to swoon straight into his arms.
“You clean up pretty well as a Victorian vampire,” I managed to say after a few seconds. “You’re giving the protagonist of our show a run for his money.” And I’d take you over him any day of the week, I wanted to add.
But Lucas didn’t smile like before, he only hummed in response, all that intensity still there.
In an attempt to appear unaffected by that and by the way those chocolate eyes were staring right into mine, I averted my gaze to his chest. I spotted a button that had come undone in the visible section of his vest and reached out for it. I let my fingers make a work of it, the warmth of his chest seeping through the layers of fabric, making me clumsy and my breathing choppy. “Where did you find these clothes?” I asked in a quieter voice than I’d intended. “They look exactly like the ones from the show.”
Because we were going as our favorite vampire couple, but the version of them from one of the flashback episodes in Victorian times.
Lucas’s head tipped down, watching my hands as they remained latched onto that button. He stepped forward, bringing us closer. “I had a little help,” he answered, and I could feel his breath on my skin. “And by little, I mean my feisty 5’4” cousin.”
My fingers were fidgeting with the button that was now done, searching for an excuse to remain there, on his chest. “She’s not that feisty. Or short,” my loyalty pushed me to say. “She’s cute.”
“I think you’re cute,” Lucas said, making my fingers freeze. He expelled one slow pull of air. “No. You’re not cute. You’re beautiful.”
I swallowed, wanting to beg him to take back the words as much as I needed him to repeat them again so I’d never forget them.
But what I said was, “You’re ready now.” And I brushed my fingertips over the fabric of his vest for what I’d promised myself would be one last touch.
Before I could sever the contact, though, Lucas took another step forward, bringing us even closer. Flushed. My hands adjusted to the new position, the new nearness, my palms now flat against his chest. “I don’t know about that,” he said, voice husky, deep, distracting. “There might be other buttons needing your attention. You’ve done such an amazing job with that one, I want to make sure.”
I looked up, finally meeting his gaze and finding the version of Lucas that had smeared tomato sauce all over my bottom lip staring back at me. My heart leaped, my whole body taking notice of the way his chest moved and of the intensity in his eyes. Of how stern and determined his features turned when he looked at me like this. As if all the amusement and lightheartedness had left him.
He remained exactly where he was, waiting, but what was I supposed to do? Ask him to undo all his clothes so I had an excuse to secure them back around his solid and beautiful body?
Yes, a voice encouraged me. That would be a good start.
“I… I think I got them all,” I said instead, because anything else would be crazy. Stupid. Reckless.
The tip of his tongue peeked out and swiped over his bottom lip before he said, “Okay.”
“Okay,” I repeated.
And all too soon, he was stepping back and opening the space between our bodies. “Before we go,” he said walking backward, disappearing down the hallway for a moment and returning holding something behind his back. “This is for you.”
He revealed what he was hiding and my jaw dropped to the floor, joined by my heart less than a millisecond later.
“For— For me,” I stuttered, looking at the stunning corsage of pink magnolias in his hands. A corsage I’d never gotten from Jake during prom night. Like I’d told him. And he’d remembered. “Lucas you didn’t have to. This isn’t one of our—” I caught myself before I said dates. One of our dates. “Tonight isn’t supposed to be part of our research.”
“It doesn’t matter,” he said matter-of-factly, and I wanted to ask him, How? How could this not matter to him when it did to me? But he continued before I could: “I know I didn’t plan this date, so it technically isn’t one. But after how the last one ended, how I couldn’t even properly feed you dinner, I thought I could take the chance to make it up to you. Consider it part of phase two. Exploring the spark.”