Page 137 of Boss of the Year

“Not yet.” I tightened my grip. “Not quite yet.”

His answer was to stay.

No shift. No retreat. No barrier between us.

Just Lucas—wrapped around me, inside me, holding me like I was the only thing keeping him steady.

One more thing to find just a little bit funny. Because somehow, I felt the same.

27

PAIN PERDU

*gets its name from bread that has been discarded.

Iwoke to a pale London morning light filtering through slits in the blackout curtains, my body pleasantly sore in places I’d never known existed.

I was also extremely warm, although a quick glance down my body informed me that was because, once again, I was wrapped up in Lucas Lyons. His arm draped across my waist, heavy with sleep, his breath was deep against my neck. Through the warmth of his chest pressed against my back, I thought I could feel the steady thump of the heartbeat that had lulled me to sleep last night.

Bits and pieces of the night before washed over me. My sudden (or maybe not so sudden, given the last few weeks) decision to knock on his door naked, of all things. The way he’d kissed me once he realized he was, beyond a shadow of doubt, what I wanted. The gratitude that shone in his eyes when he moved inside me. And the way I’d completely broken in hisarms, shattered into tiny pieces that he managed to put together in his calm Lucas way, even while shattering himself.

Only when it means something, he’d assured me while wiping tears from my eyes.

So it meant something to him, right?

He had said so, in the beginning.

It certainly meant something to me.

Even now, it was hard to imagine a world that existed beyond the man whose arms held me so tightly, even in his sleep. Who called me his “Sweet Marie” and cradled me like someone precious even when he took me like an animal.

Admittedly, I was spiraling. And badly in need of a reality check.

In ten days, you’ll be back in New York, I reminded myself. Back to the real world, where he was Lucas Lyons, CEO and patriarch of one of the wealthiest families in America, and I was Marie Zola, the cook above the garage.

Right now I might feel giddy and even close to that four-letter word I didn’t even dare to think, let alone say. But when we got home, there would be acres of distance between us.

The sooner I accepted the fact and enjoyed the next ten days for what they were, the better.

“Come here, sweet girl.” Lucas mumbled something in his sleep, squeezed my waist, and kissed my neck before his breathing fell back to normal.

Okay, that was going to make that reality check a whole lot harder.

Fortunately, there was at least one person in my life who definitely wouldn’t be mad if I woke her up in the middle of the night with news about my new status as no-longer-a-virgin. And she would also be more than willing to tell me exactly what to expect after.

Carefully, I extracted myself from Lucas’s arms, trying not to wake him. In sleep, the harsh edges of his face softened, making him look far younger than his forty-one years, and I had to fight not to slide right back into bed with him and wake him up with kisses over the tiny, relaxed lines above his brow.

God, he really was lovable.

No. I couldn’t think that way.

At least…not yet.

I tiptoed out of the room and across the hall to Sofia’s room, where I pulled on the robe leftover from the onsen, grabbed my phone, and padded down the hall and up to the rooftop before I dialed.

Joni answered on the second ring. “Mimi?” Her voice was groggy and rough. “Are you okay?”

“Hey, Jo, yeah. Sorry to wake you up. I’m okay. I just…”