Lucien’s hands are strong and steady, wrapping me in a cocoon of safety that almost dissolves the fear in my chest. My thoughts slip out before I can stop them.
“You work out a lot, don’t you?” I blurt, my curiosity tugged by the sculpted lines I can feel beneath his shirt.
“Not exactly,” he replies easily. “But I keep in shape when I can. Let’s just say good genes run in the family.”
“Would you build more muscle for me?” I tease, snickering.
“Absolutely,” he answers without hesitation, his tone smooth and sure. “I’m quite adaptable, you’ll find.”
Leaning into the banter, I prod further, unable to resist. “So how many times have you had to adapt for different women? Do you change for every woman you meet?” My voice drips with playful mischief, but a flicker of jealousy sneaks through.
