The quiet hallway smelled faintly of lemon floor polish as Nina locked her apartment door with a soft, decisive click. Her chest was still buzzing from that ridiculous kitchen moment… from the sheer, suffocating heat of his chest against her back and the casual, terrifying way he had tossed around the word mother.
She pressed a hand briefly to her sternum, as if she could physically smooth away the flutter still lodged there. The word kept echoing in her mind, refusing to settle, refusing to make sense alongside the version of Lucas she thought she knew. She had built an entire understanding of him over the past weeks, brick by careful brick, and one offhand word had sent the whole structure wobbling.
She turned around, clutching her heavy tote bag like a shield, only to find Lucas standing two feet away. He was adjusting the cuff of his charcoal knit sweater, looking ridiculously relaxed for a man who had just spent the last twenty minutes terrorizing her blood pressure.
