Chapter 95 | Let Mommy Handle This, Sugar

I took a step closer to Diane. Then another. My heart hammered against my ribs so hard I was pretty sure she could hear it. Hell, I was pretty sure the neighbors could hear it.

"What if," I said again, slower this time, "we stopped making this about choosing?"

Diane’s expression shifted. Not quite understanding yet, but getting there. Her blue eyes tracked me as I moved into her space.

"Lukas." Her voice carried a warning edge. "What are you suggesting?"

I reached out and took her hand. Her fingers were cool against mine. I pulled her gently toward me until we stood barely an inch apart.

"I’m suggesting," I said, looking down at her, "that maybe Sloane doesn’t have to lose you. And you don’t have to lose me. And I don’t have to lose either of you."

Her breath caught. She understood now.

"That’s insane."

"Probably."

"That’s not how relationships work."

"Says who?" I slid my other hand around her waist. She didn’t pull away. "Says the rules written by people who aren’t us? Says society? Since when do you give a shit what society thinks?"

Diane’s lips parted slightly. I could see the war happening behind her eyes. Logic against desire. Propriety against hunger.

"Sloane would never," she started.

"Sloane loves you," I interrupted. "And she wants me. Right now she thinks she has to choose. What if she doesn’t?"

I leaned down and kissed the corner of Diane’s mouth. Soft. Barely there. She made a small sound in her throat.

"You’re a terrible influence," she whispered.

"You already knew that." I kissed her jaw. "You’ve been corrupting me for two weeks."

"I don’t think that’s how that works."

"Then how does it work?" I pulled back just enough to meet her eyes. My heart was still going a million miles an hour. "Tell me, Diane. Tell me you don’t want this."

She stared at me for a long moment. Then her hand came up and pressed flat against my chest. Right over my racing heart.

"Your heart is beating so fast," she said quietly.

"Yeah, well. I’m nervous as hell."

"You?" A small smile touched her lips. "The boy who faced a fifty-foot robot? Nervous?"

"That was easier than this."

Diane’s smile grew. She moved her hand up to my face, cupping my cheek. Her thumb traced my bottom lip.

"You’re really suggesting we share you."

"I’m suggesting you and Sloane stop fighting over me and start working together." I turned my head and kissed her palm. "I’m suggesting we figure out something that works for all three of us instead of blowing everything up."

"And you think she’ll agree to that."

"I think she loves you more than she hates the idea." I kissed her wrist. Her pulse jumped under my lips. "I think she’d rather have half of me with you still in her life than all of me and lose you."

"Half," Diane repeated. Her voice had gone soft. Thoughtful. "You really think that’s what this would be?"

"I think this would be whatever we make it."

She tilted her head up. I bent down. Our mouths met slow and deep. Not the desperate hungry kisses from before. Something gentler. More real.

When we broke apart, Diane leaned forward and pressed her face against my neck. She breathed in deep, and I felt the warmth of her exhale against my skin.

"You smell different," she murmured.

Shit. The Musk trait. She could smell it on me now. Of course she could. We were this close, in an enclosed space, after everything that had just happened between us.

"Different how?"

"Good." She nuzzled deeper, her nose trailing along my throat. "Really good. Like I want to bite you."

My heart rate kicked up another notch. "You can bite me later."

"Mmm." She opened her mouth and dragged her teeth along the side of my neck. Not hard enough to break skin. Just enough pressure to make my breath hitch and my hands tighten on her waist. "Promise?"

"Diane."

"What?" She pulled back just far enough to look at me, and her eyes were gleaming with something that made my stomach flip. "You come in here proposing threesomes and you expect me to keep my hands to myself?"

"I’m trying to have a serious conversation."

"And I’m trying to welcome you home properly." Her hands slid under my shirt, palms warm against my ribs. "Do you know what I’ve been thinking about for the past three days in Chicago?"

"Mergers and acquisitions?"

"You." Her nails scraped lightly across my abs, just enough to make my muscles jump under her touch. "Coming home to you. Giving my good boy the attention he deserves."

The shift in her voice made my spine straighten. That commanding edge. The one that said she was done playing and I was about to find out exactly what she wanted.

"Diane."

"Every time I come home from a trip," she continued, backing me up toward her bed with small, deliberate steps, "I want to kiss every inch of you. I want to taste everywhere I’ve been missing." Another step. My calves hit the edge of the mattress. "I want you to know exactly how much I’ve been thinking about this. About you."

My legs hit the mattress properly now. I sat down hard, and she followed immediately, climbing into my lap and straddling my hips. The weight of her settled over me, and my hands found her waist again without conscious thought.

"You’re changing the subject," I managed, though my voice had gone rough.

"No." She kissed my forehead, soft and slow. "I’m taking care of my boy." Another kiss, this one on my temple. "Like I always do." My cheekbone. "Like I always will." The corner of my mouth, lingering there for a long moment before pulling back just enough to meet my eyes again.

Her thumbs traced slow circles on my chest through my shirt. The room felt smaller somehow. Warmer. Like the space between us had its own gravity pulling us together.

"Let mommy handle this, Sugar."