"Could you maybe not cling so tightly? I'm no saint, you know," Lucas muttered, shifting uncomfortably. He was startled at how strong his physical reaction was to this woman. His voice was low, roughened by a mixture of fatigue and the awkwardness of the moment. With a slightly rough motion, he tried to shake Claire off, his hands gentle enough to avoid waking her completely but firm enough to create some space.
But like a spring, she bounced right back, clinging to him even tighter, her arms and legs wrapped around him like an octopus. Despite his irritation, he couldn't help but notice how her hold on him felt oddly familiar, as if she were hugging a pillow rather than another person. The warmth of her body against his made it harder to focus, and a faint, musky scent of lavender and vanilla wafted to his nose, disarming him further.
What was wrong with him? Why did he feel so out of sorts, like some love-struck teenager? His usual calm and composed demeanor seemed to crumble in her proximity. He scoffed at himself, dismissing it as nothing more than a natural reaction. Surely, this was just biology at play. He adjusted his position instinctively, his hands moving to support her weight as he settled her more comfortably against his chest. It wasn't deliberate—it was almost like his body was moving on autopilot.
Expecting to be wide awake for the rest of the night, Lucas was surprised when sleep finally overtook him. His head sank deeper into the pillow, his breaths evening out with Claire nestled warmly in his arms.
The first rays of morning crept into the room, their golden light spilling across the bed like a gentle wake-up call. The faint chirping of birds outside the window complemented the stillness inside. The atmosphere was serene, almost surreal, as if the world had decided to hold its breath in that moment.
Having grown accustomed to early mornings from her years at school, Claire's internal clock stirred her from slumber. A soft hum escaped her lips as her lashes fluttered open, revealing her bleary, unfocused gaze. She blinked a few times, her vision sharpening, and then froze—completely taken aback by the sight before her.
The face so close to hers was ruggedly handsome to an almost surreal degree. His short, tousled hair framed a strong brow, slightly furrowed even in sleep, as if he were deep in thought even in unconsciousness. Beneath his dark lashes, his closed eyes rested peacefully, while his nose, perfectly straight, led down to a set of lips that looked both firm and... inviting. A shadow of stubble traced his jawline, adding a rugged, masculine appeal to his otherwise refined features. The rhythmic rise and fall of his chest, coupled with the faint, steady sound of his breathing, was almost hypnotic.
Claire stared, mesmerized. For a long moment, she forgot to be scared or even question if she was still dreaming. Almost unconsciously, her hand lifted, moving to graze the rough stubble on his jaw—just to feel if he was as real as he looked. Her fingertips trembled slightly, the sensation of his skin both soft and coarse beneath her touch.
But just as her fingers brushed against his jaw, his eyes snapped open. The piercing intensity of his gaze shot right through her, catching her completely off guard. Those eyes, a stormy gray that seemed to shift between light and dark depending on the light, pinned her in place.
"Ah!" Claire yelped, her hand jerking back as if she had been burned. Her cheeks flared a deep, crimson red, and she scrambled to form coherent thoughts. Panic and embarrassment wrestled for dominance in her mind.
Lucas blinked, his expression unreadable for a moment as he processed the situation. He took a slow, deep breath, trying to quell the ridiculous urge to lean forward and brush his lips against her flushed face. After a moment, a faint smirk curved the corners of his mouth.
"Are you part octopus or something?" he asked, his tone half-amused, half-mocking. His voice, still gravelly from sleep, sent a shiver down her spine.
"Octopus?" she stammered, her mind racing as she tried to process his strange question. Was that even an option in the zodiac? Her confusion was so genuine that it almost made Lucas laugh.
He raised a brow, the smirk tugging wider as he glanced down, his eyes pointedly moving to where her tangled limbs had wrapped around him. His gaze was sharp but not unkind, a mixture of bemusement and mild exasperation.
Claire followed his gaze, her heart stopping as she realized the compromising position she had been in. Her arms had been draped over his shoulders, her legs entwined with his in a way that was far too intimate for her liking—or anyone else's, for that matter. Her eyes widened in shock, and she sprang up from the bed so quickly that she nearly tripped over her own feet.
She stumbled backward until she was safely on the floor, her hand covering her mouth in horror as she stared at him. "What… what are you doing in my bed?!" she demanded, her voice rising with panic. The heat in her cheeks deepened, the color spreading down her neck. "Did you… did you do something to me?" Her hands flew to her nightshirt, hurriedly checking to make sure it was still in place. She realized, with mounting dread, that the neckline had slipped down dangerously low.
Oh no! She wasn't used to sleeping with anything constricting, which meant… no bra! And she had been wrapped around him all night? What had he thought of her? Her face flushed an even deeper shade of red as she realized the implications.
Lucas propped himself up on one elbow, watching her with an expression that was equal parts amused and annoyed. "You've got it all wrong," he said, his voice laced with dry humor. "You were the one who latched onto me like some overzealous koala. I didn't exactly have a choice."
Claire's mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water, her mortification only growing. "I… I would never—" she began, but the memory of her clinging to him like a lifeline in the middle of the night stopped her short. She pressed her hands to her burning cheeks, wishing she could sink into the floor.
Lucas sighed, running a hand through his tousled hair. "Relax. Nothing happened. You just… fell asleep on me." He paused, his lips quirking into a small, teasing smile. "Though I have to admit, you're a lot clingier than I expected."
"Clingy?!" Claire's indignation flared, momentarily overriding her embarrassment. "I am not clingy!"
He shrugged nonchalantly. "Sure, whatever you say, Octopus Girl."
Her jaw dropped, and for a moment, all she could do was gape at him. Then, with a huff of frustration, she grabbed the nearest pillow and hurled it at his head. He caught it effortlessly, his grin widening.
"You're impossible!" she snapped, crossing her arms over her chest as she turned away from him, her mind racing with conflicting emotions. What was it about this man that made her feel so utterly out of control?