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When Chloe had decided to spend her day off on the beach, what she’d had in mind was to relax and read a nice book in the sun. Maybe go for a swim.
What she didn’t have in mind was for Lucifer to join her and walk around like a pompous prick.
A shirtless, pompous prick.
She tries to read her book, to focus on the words and the breeze and the hot sand between her toes, but then once a while, she’ll glance up—just to get a look at the sea and the sun—and she’ll find him there, showing off. Smiling and making eyes at any mildly attractive thing that moves. Enjoying the head turns as he walks by. And in those ridiculous swim trunks, as well. He couldn’t just have owned a normal pair, could he? Loose and knee-length like everyone else. No. No, his had to be short and tight. Always showing off.
What an ass.
What a stupid, annoying, self-absorbed… well-defined…
Chloe quickly looks down in her book again.
She will not give him the satisfaction of catching her staring. Not that she was, staring. She was just… she wasn’t.
She doesn’t stare at him as he strolls around in the sand like a model in a perfume commercial. She doesn’t stare as he joins a game of beach volley in nothing but those stupid, tight trunks. She doesn’t stare at his flexing bicep as he smokes and sips whiskey (because of course, he’s brought a crystal glass to the beach) and she doesn’t stare as he lies down and tans next to her, all six-foot-three of freckled, sunkissed skin.
She definitely doesn’t stare as he comes out of the water after a swim. Dripping wet with sunshine licking his bare skin. Hair slicked back and beard darkened by the sea. Saltwater runs down his neck and chest, down his carved abs, past the waistband of his low-hanging trunks, clinging tight and wet to his body. His thighs. His hips. The sharp, clear-cut V begging to be-
Okay, maybe she stares a little.
But so what if she does? The whole beach is staring. And it’s not like she’s in a relationship. Not anymore. She’s free to look as much as she wants, without having to feel guilty.
Actually, a voice inside her head reminds her, she’s free to do much more than just look.
There’s nothing stopping her now. No Dan. No barely dressed whatever her name was. She could go up to Lucifer right now and ask him on a date, or she could tell him how unbelievably sexy he is. She could kiss him when they get home, lie his shirtless, stupidly attractive body down on the couch and make him forget his own name. She could wake up in his bed, tomorrow and probably for as many more days as she’d like.
Except… there is something stopping her. There’s always been, from the first night they met. She doesn’t know exactly what it is. Maybe she’s not brave enough. Maybe she’s a coward.
Maybe she’s just not ready to risk losing the best friend she’s ever had.
She did take the risk, and for a moment it was worth it. But then look what happened. A separation, a desperate distraction disguised as a relationship, and a whole lot of unhappiness.
She’s not ready to go through that again. She doesn’t think either of them is.
So she won’t ask him out, and she won’t flirt, and she won’t kiss him.
She’ll only look.
For now, at least.