Page 144 of Let You Love Me

She draws back and cups my face in her hands, and I don’t even have to force a smile; it comes all on its own. Lane draws the best out of me every fucking time.

“Glad you could join us for breakfast.”

“Uh, yeah, sure. No problem.”

“You’re lucky little Sophie, here, never sleeps in,” she says, pointing at her with a spatula. Then she leans into me again and whispers, “I wish I could kiss you right now.”

“Me too,” I choke out. So fucking much; she has no idea.

“Hungry?” She spins around and checks the bacon, then begins to pile it on a paper plate lined with napkins. “I know football works up an appetite,” she says with a wink.

“Starving.” I rub a hand over my stomach despite the heaviness in my chest. “I did a little extra conditioning last night.”

“Is that so?” Lane arches a brow, then turns and sets the plate of bacon on the table and grins, a mischievous glint in her eyes. “Well, then you better eat up because I sensea lotof extra conditioning in your future.”

Her cheeks flush, and the smile she gives me is so genuine, her gaze so soft, I can almost convince myself my fears are nothing more than a result of an overactive imagination.

Almost.

Me:

I need one of you to tell me I’m fucking crazy.

Jace:

You’re fucking crazy. There. You’re welcome.

Graham:

I can get on board with this assessment.

Atlas:

I sense this has to do with Lane.

Chris:

Because in the end women make us all fucking crazy? I concur.

Me:

No. I need you to tell me I’m fucking crazy after I explain why I’m fucking crazy. Otherwise, it’s a moot point.

Jace:

*sigh*

Me:

I found a picture of Lane and Chance Lockhart, and it looked . . . I don’t know, intimate?

Chris:

Oh, shit. Was it a nude?

Me:

NO, IT WASN’T A FUCKING NUDE!

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