Sophie POV
His face inched closer, his lips hovering just a breath away. The way he looked at me — like I was something rare, something fragile he might break if he pressed too hard — was almost laughable. Almost.
Lucas.
The great Lucas, with his brooding expression, his sharp jawline, his house that screamed money, was leaning in like a desperate boy about to taste his first crush.
I tilted my head slightly, watching him through lowered lashes, and I thought: This dude must be rich. I could play with him for a while. Stretch this out. Make him chase.
One hundred thousand dollars. He had said it without blinking, as if throwing that number out meant nothing to him. I believed him now. Men like him — the rich, the lonely, the ones who pretended not to need anyone — they were the easiest to string along.
But rushing? No. Where was the fun in that?
I pressed my palm lightly against his chest, halting him before his lips could claim mine.
