Page 244 of Rogue Riders Duet

“What?” I breathe out, laughter still clinging to the edges of my lips.

“Shit, sorry. That, ah, came out fast, didn’t it?” Luc’s movements against me slow, the air around him stilling as his face pinches in uncertainty. “I just…” He shifts, brushing his hand nervously through his hair. “I wasn’t going to say it, not yet. I didn’t mean to make it weird. It’s just, look at you, and look at this, and I didn’t expect it to hit me like this, but it did, and I⁠—”

“Luc,” I say, cutting into his adorable rambling as my heart gallops, my ribs stretching to contain it. “How do you say I love you in French?”

He exhales, and softer than I’ve ever heard him, he breathes, “Je t’aime.”

I brush his hair from his forehead, needing to see him fully, and for him to see me.

“Je t’aime, Luc.”

I mean it with every bruised rib, scarred inch, and jagged piece of me that’s somehow still standing. The words come out quietly, but inside, they roar, crystal clear and unafraid. And somehow, saying them doesn’t make me feel exposed but makes me feel whole.

Luc’s gaze softens, and with reverence that steals my breath. He hooks his fingers into the waistband of my boxers and slowly slides them down, baring me completely.

Everything else, every worry disappears, because there’s only him and me under the stars, wrapped in lavender, and only the sky to bear witness.

He kisses me again and again as if every press of his mouth is a vow. “Je t’aime, ma Petite.”

A soft rustle, a whisper of movement, and something featherlight brushes against the curve of my hip. I blink down to see that Luc is holding a single stem of lavender between his fingers.

He skims the purple petals over my skin and down my side, then up the arc of my ribs, before gliding across my stomach and chest, and circling one nipple. I gasp and arch against the blanket as goose bumps rise in its wake, following the slow path he draws.

His eyes darken as he watches it all, and from just that look, my squirming becomes writhing anticipation.

The bloom glides over my pelvis, and I suck in a hiccupping breath.

I feel it everywhere.

Luc chuckles. “You okay?”

I nod, but my hips shift at how wet I am already, how tightly wound I’ve become under just kisses, the touch of lavender, and his gaze. “Luc…”

“What do you want, Petite? Tell me.”

“I—” I clamp my lips shut, overwhelmed. “I don’t know. I…”

“No need to be insecure, bébé. It’s just me.” He brushes his lips over mine again. “Tell me, I’ll do anything you want.”

“I don’t know what I want,” I whisper again, feeling how my cheeks heat. “You heard Finn. I’ve never done anything before him. I don’t know how this works.”

Luc stills, then pulls back and meets my gaze with a determined look. “I’ll show you. I’ll show you what a first time should be and feel like.”

I nod, relief flooding me because that sounds perfect. “Okay.”

His wide palm grips my cheek, and his brow furrows. “If I do anything you don’t like, you tell me. Got it?”

I nod again, heart hammering. “And then you stop?”

I don’t want this to stop.

His mouth curves into a grin as he kisses the tip of my nose. “No. Then we do something else. Something that you do like.”

Oh.

“Okay,” I whisper again, nodding like an idiot.

He sets the lavender aside, taking a deep, subtle breath as if he’s the one who needs to focus, and then places his hand on my thigh, nudging my legs apart. Instinctively, I close them again.