Chapter 390: Chapter 390

The sound of water filled the bathroom, soft and rhythmic. Steam curled against the marble walls, carrying the faint scent of cedar soap and something sweeter that clung stubbornly to Lucas’s skin.

He sank deeper into the tub, eyes half-closed, his head resting against the edge as if he’d already surrendered to the inevitable. "You’re impossible," he said, his voice quiet but edged with amusement. "You can’t just pick me up and..."

"Carry you?" Trevor interrupted from behind him, his tone far too pleased. "I absolutely can."

Lucas huffed, though the corners of his mouth betrayed him. "I can walk, you know."

"Barely," Trevor said, crouching beside the tub to dip his hand into the water. The heat had turned his skin pink, and when he brushed his fingers over Lucas’ shoulder, the omega let out a contented sigh he hadn’t intended to give.

Somewhere between their after-love moment and this, Trevor changed and carried Lucas like the menace he was.

Trevor smiled. "See? You like it."

"I tolerate it," Lucas corrected primly.

"Right," Trevor drawled. "That’s why you were practically purring when I put you down."

Lucas cracked one eye open, turning his head just enough to look at him. "That’s slander."

Trevor leaned in, resting his forearm on the rim of the tub. "You say that like I’d lose a court case against you."

"You’d lose so fast," Lucas replied, deadpan.

Trevor’s laughter echoed quietly through the warm air. He rolled up the sleeves of his shirt, the fabric stretching over his forearms, and reached again to pour a handful of water over Lucas’s collarbone. The droplets caught the light, sliding down his skin in thin, shimmering trails.

Lucas made a small, satisfied sound despite himself.

"See?" Trevor murmured, his voice a little too gentle for the smugness in his smile. "You needed this."

"I needed sex, then peace and quiet," Lucas countered. "You offered abduction and a bath."

"Semantics," Trevor said.

Lucas opened both eyes now, amusement flickering beneath the fatigue that still clung to him. "You’re lucky I’m too tired to argue."

Trevor’s expression softened, the teasing fading into something fond. "That’s the point, love. You never stop long enough to rest."

Lucas tilted his head back, letting the heat soak into his muscles. "You sound like Cressida."

"Cressida doesn’t have to compete with your stubbornness," Trevor replied. "I do."

That earned him a faint, sleepy laugh that made something warm settle in Trevor’s chest.

For a while, they stayed like that, Lucas in the tub, Trevor sitting on the floor beside it, sleeves damp from splashing water and his hair a little disheveled from leaning too close. The air smelled like cedar and warm soap, with an undertone of Lucas’s scent.

"You know," he said, voice low and almost thoughtful, "if this is one of your cravings, I could live with it."

Lucas’s brow arched lazily, playing innocent. "Which craving?"

Trevor leaned a little closer, his smile turning unmistakably wicked. He didn’t bite Lucas’ innocent appearance. "The one that has nothing to do with food."

Lucas gave a soft huff of laughter, water rippling around him. "You’re insufferable."

"Probably," Trevor admitted. "But tell me I’m wrong."

"You’re always wrong," Lucas said, the words smooth and firm, but his cheeks had already warmed, betraying him.

Trevor studied him for a long moment, his expression hovering somewhere between amusement and affection. "I think," he said finally, "you’re craving touch more than anything. Maybe it’s the pregnancy, maybe it’s just us. Either way, I’m not complaining."

Lucas tilted his head, meeting his gaze with quiet defiance. "You think too much."

"And you deflect too much," Trevor countered easily.

"Occupational hazard."

Trevor’s hand came to rest lightly on the side of the tub, his fingers brushing the water’s surface. "Love isn’t a hazard," he murmured. "It’s a habit. One I’m happy to indulge."

Lucas smiled faintly, his blonde lashes lowering as the warmth sank deeper into his bones. "You make it sound noble," he murmured. "You indulging me."

Trevor’s mouth curved. "I’m a patient man."

"You’re not," Lucas said, half a laugh caught in his voice. "You’re the least patient person I’ve ever met."

Trevor hummed. "Maybe I’m learning."

For a while the only sound was the soft lap of water against porcelain, the distant hum of city life behind the walls, and the lazy rhythm of their breathing syncing with it.

Then, out of nowhere, Lucas spoke again, his tone too casual to be truly innocent. "I want ice cream."

Trevor blinked. "Now?"

"It’s seven in the morning."

Lucas turned his head, meeting his eyes with disarming seriousness. "And?"

Trevor exhaled a quiet laugh. "You’ve had nothing but tea since yesterday afternoon."

"You took one bite and declared it ’texturally offensive,’" Trevor reminded him.

Lucas looked away, unbothered. "It was."

"Lucas," Trevor said, amusement threading through the warning in his tone, "you’re not having ice cream before breakfast."

Lucas lifted one wet hand from the tub and gestured lazily in his direction. "You carried me in here against my will. I’m owed compensation."

"Compensation?" Trevor echoed, pretending to consider it. "I’m fairly sure the compensation was the bath. And me."

Lucas snorted. "You’re part of the problem."

Trevor smirked. "You mean the solution."

"Delusional," Lucas muttered.

Trevor leaned forward slightly, resting his elbows on his knees, the hint of laughter glinting in his eyes. "You’re going to eat real food first. Something with nutrients, preferably not made of sugar and regret."

"I’m pregnant, not dying," Lucas said flatly.

"Exactly why I’m saying no to ice cream for breakfast," Trevor replied easily. "I’m not dealing with your blood sugar crash before the shareholders’ briefing."

Lucas tilted his head, water shifting with the motion, and looked at him through half-lidded eyes. "You could delegate."

"I could," Trevor agreed. "But I won’t. Because unlike you, I work for a living."

"That’s adorable," Lucas said, smiling slowly. "The billionaire thinks he works."

Trevor chuckled, the sound low and unhurried. "You’re lucky you’re charming."

"I’m right," Lucas corrected, sinking a little deeper into the water. "Now, where’s my ice cream?"

Trevor stood, brushing a damp strand of hair from Lucas’s forehead with his thumb before leaning down to kiss him there. "In the freezer. Waiting for an appropriate hour." Tʜe sourcᴇ of thɪs content ɪs 𝓷𝓸𝓿𝓮𝓵·𝕗𝕚𝕣𝕖·𝙣𝙚𝙩

Lucas sighed, long-suffering. "I hate you."

Lucas’s lips twitched. "Not right now, no."

Trevor smiled. "Good. Now finish your bath. I’ll get you breakfast. Then, maybe, maybe, we’ll talk about the ice cream."

As Trevor straightened and turned toward the door, Lucas called after him, voice dry and amused. "This conversation isn’t over."

"I wouldn’t dream of it," Trevor replied over his shoulder, the faintest trace of laughter following him out.

When the door closed, Lucas sank back into the water, warmth curling around him like an embrace. The faint echo of Trevor’s voice lingered in his mind.

"Patience, love," he thought, echoing the words from before. He smiled to himself, knowing he’d win the ice cream debate eventually. He always did.