Page 95 of Bitter When He Begs

Sage shifts enough to turn onto his back, eyes meeting mine in the low light. “You were,” he says, but there’s no heat in it. “But you already apologized, Luca.”

“And I’ll keep apologizing until I feel like it’s enough,” I say. “You got under my skin so fast, and I didn’t know what to do with it. I wanted to be done with you after that first night. I thought I could be.”

“You weren’t.”

“Still not,” I say and kiss his cheek, right under the corner of his eye. “Still completely fucking wrecked over you.”

He snorts but his face softens, and he leans into the kiss just enough to let me know it matters. I pull him closer, my arm curling tighter around his waist, and I press my forehead to his again.

“I also don’t want to come between you and Nate,” I say, because I need to get that out, even if it stings. “I know you guys go way back, and I know I make things hard. But I don’t want to be the reason you lose him.”

Sage breathes out a sigh, his hand finding mine under the covers, fingers slipping between mine like he’s been doing it for years. “It’s not you or him,” he says. “It’s just… complicated. And right now, I need to figure out how to balance the parts of my life that don’t fit together yet.”

I nod slowly. “Whatever you need, I’m in. If that means taking it slow, or keeping shit quieter, or dealing with your friends hating me until I earn my way out of their hit list, I’ll do it.”

He smiles, and this one is real. Full. All teeth and dimples and warmth. “You already have one foot out of the doghouse.”

“Yeah?” I ask, smirking. “What’s the other foot gotta do?”

“Don’t get cocky,” he says, kicking at my shin under the blanket. “You’re still in it for calling me a one-and-done.”

I groan, flopping dramatically onto my back. “I was an idiot.”

“Still are.”

“But I’m your idiot now.”

Sage sighs like I’m hopeless, and maybe I am, but he curls into my side, his head resting on my chest, his fingers still laced with mine. I reach down and run my hand over his thigh, feel the fabric of my shirt against his skin, and swear under my breath again.

He catches it this time. “What now?”

“You wearing my shirt,” I say, half-laughing, half-serious. “It’s gonna ruin me.”

He laughs into my chest, and I feel it all the way down my fucking spine. “You’re such a softie.”

“Yeah, but only for you.”

His breath hitches like he wasn’t ready for that, and for once, he doesn’t have a comeback. Doesn’t hide behind sarcasm or a peppermint or some smartass comment to derail the moment. He just lies there, quiet and warm and mine, and for the first time in a long time, I don’t feel like I’m burning from the inside out. I just feel… steady.

And that’s how I know.

I’m in deep.

Luca

Iwakeuptothe best fucking feeling.

Fingertips, featherlight and teasing, trail slowly over my stomach, dipping into the ridges of my abs, tracing their way up toward my ribs before dragging back down again. The touch is lazy and unhurried, like whoever is doing it is completely unaware they’re worshipping me.

For a second, I think I’m dreaming, but then my eyes crack open, and I see Sage.

Propped up on his elbow beside me, his fingers skate across my skin like he can’t help himself, his big brown eyes hazy with something almost thoughtful, as he seemingly memorizes every line and dip and scar.

His bottom lip is caught between his teeth, his expression so concentrated that it takes everything in me not to smirk.

The second I fully register what’s happening, a satisfied sound escapes my throat, deep and lazy, my muscles flexinginvoluntarily beneath his touch. I could get used to waking up like this.

Sage startles slightly, but he doesn’t pull away, blinking down at me as I smirk and stretch out beneath him.

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