Pretty Face (London Celebrities, #2)

by Lucy Parker

Luc Savage looked like Gregory Peck, circa some dapper time between Roman Holiday and To Kill A Mockingbird. There was more bulk in the shoulders, silver in the hair and darkness in the soul; otherwise, the resemblance was uncanny.

“I don’t believe that you’re somehow completed by romantic love. You aren’t born half a person, doomed to drift through life unfulfilled until you find someone who can validate you.

You’re a whole person with a whole life, that you might choose to share with another person. Or you might not. Your body and mind is your own. Your happiness is your responsibility and your right.”

Her eyes were deep brown, almost black, and shadowed with fatigue. She frowned a little. His brain suggested that the natural course of action was to reach out and smooth it away, and what the everlasting fuck.

It didn’t feel fleeting and solely physical. It didn’t feel like infatuation. It felt like...recognition.

He stood still, then caught her fingers in his when her hand slipped away. He tugged gently, pulling her forward one step at a time until she was standing beneath his chin. Lowering his head, he rested his cheek against hers. “It’s going to be all right,” he said into her ear. She didn’t know if he meant the next few minutes, or the next few months, or the rest of her life. She closed her eyes, smelling him, breathing in sync, feeling her body relax. He kissed her ear, her forehead again, and, so briefly, her mouth. Then, sliding a hand through her hair and cupping her cheek, he murmured, “Enough.” She stepped away. Her skin glowed with warmth where he’d touched her. She breathed easier. Enough.

In the doorway, without looking at her, he dropped a verbal bomb. His voice was so low that it almost went over her head instead of hitting the target on the left side of her chest. “It’s second nature to pull apart a performance, isolate and slice out the dead weight, piece it back together. I also know what it feels like when there’s that very rare click and it’s just—right. It works. From the first line of the first scene.” A nerve ticked in his jaw. “It doesn’t often happen onstage, and I didn’t expect to ever experience it offstage.”