“Surprise?” He glanced from me to the lack of filth to me again. “You cleaned?” “Yes. I mean, I had help.” “You didn’t do this for me, did you?” “For myself. And a bit for you.” He looked genuinely overwhelmed. “Oh, Lucien.” “It’s…it’s not a big de—” He kissed me. And it was the most Oliver kiss, his hands cupping my face gently to draw me to him, and his lips covering mine with a deliberate care that was its own kind of passion. The way you’d eat a really expensive chocolate, savouring it because you knew you might never get another. He smelled of familiarity, of homecoming, and of the night
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