Thirty
THIRTY
LEORA
W e’re both dressed to the nines, me in a sleek black dress and Amélie in a stunning red jumpsuit that enhances her beautiful blond hair and soft features. When she suggested we go out for a girls’ night, I immediately agreed. It’s exactly what I need right now. I need to get a break from Lucas.
As we settle into our seats at the rooftop bar, we take in the stunning city skyline. From here, I can see everything—the Eiffel Tower, the Arc de Triomphe, and the twinkling lights of the city.
It’s breathtaking.
"So, tell me, how's married life?" Amélie asks, her eyes sparkling with curiosity.
I freeze, unsure of how to respond. I don’t want to lie to her—she’s been so kind—but I can’t tell her the truth either, so I go for an in-between.
"It’s been good. Lucas is incredible," I say with a strained smile on my lips.
Amélie nods, a radiant expression on her face. "I'm so happy for you, Leora. You two make such a great couple."
I feel a pang of guilt in my chest. Amélie and Thomas are two incredible human beings, and here I am, lying to their faces.
"Oh, the first year of being married is amazing." She takes a sip from her Pampelle Spritz. "I remember when Thomas and I were newlyweds, we couldn’t keep our hands off each other. We fucked every chance we got. You two seem to be more civilized than us."
I cough as I attempt to clear my lungs from the drink that clearly went down the wrong pipe.
Amélie chuckles, noticing my reaction. "Oh, don’t be coy. You might handle it better than us, but I saw you two this morning. And don’t get me started on your kiss at the Eiffel Tower. You almost got me hot and bothered."
A blush rises to my cheeks, embarrassed but also amused by Amélie's teasing. "Oh my God, Amélie."
"What? We’re friends, and friends talk about this stuff. Now tell me, does he relax in the bedroom? Because that man walks around with a stick up his ass." Her eyebrows raise at the word "relax."
I can’t help but laugh at her blunt question. That’s one of the impressions I got of Lucas when we first met. But, after getting to know him these past few weeks, my perspective has shifted. Despite his initial gruff exterior, I've discovered a layer of warmth and humor beneath. The more I learn about him, the more my laughter becomes a genuine reflection of the camaraderie we've developed.
"Some shots on the house?" A waiter comes by, saving me from answering her very private question. He sets down four shot glasses filled with an amber liquid, all topped with an orange slice and cinnamon.
I gratefully take a shot glass and raise it in a toast with Amélie. "Cheers to a great girls' night out and our new friendship," I say, clinking my shot glass against hers.
"Cheers, ma chérie." Amélie grins. "And to getting Lucas to loosen up a bit," she adds with a mischievous glint in her eye.
We both kick back our shot glasses, downing the liquid in one swallow. As soon as it hits my throat, I almost cough it up, not expecting the spirit.
Tequila.
This is going to be a wild night.
After the third drink and the fourth tequila shot, Amélie relaxes even more, which I didn’t think was possible.
"Okay, spill. What's the most daring thing you've ever done in bed?"
I haven’t been daring at all.
"Oh, not much."
She looks at me, shocked. "No handcuffs?"
I shake my head.
"No spanking?"
I shake my head again.
"Not even a little role-playing?" Amélie raises her eyebrows expectantly.
I shake my head for the third time, feeling a little embarrassed at how vanilla my sex life seems compared to hers. Maybe it’s because I’ve only ever been with John, but we never explored much.
"I guess I've just never been that adventurous," I admit with a shrug.
Amélie looks at me thoughtfully for a moment, then leans in and whispers, "Well, it's never too late to start trying new things. I have a feeling Lucas would want to do everything with a girl like you. Just tell him what you want. Communication is very important in a relationship, and in bed. Take initiative." She winks at me before downing another shot.
I’m intrigued by her words, and I wonder if maybe it's time for me to step out of my comfort zone. I don't know if it's the alcohol talking, but the way he's been acting these past few days has been very flirtatious. He touches me more when we're out, and he occasionally makes flirty comments that leave me aching.
If I'm being honest, I'm horny. Like really horny, and I need to get him out of my system. Us getting together once might be a good opportunity to see if there’s something between us; if not, then we’ll know for certain that we’re not compatible, and I’ll be happy using my vibrator for the rest of the year.
"Let's say I tried to initiate something, how would I do it?" I ask, and her whole face lights up.
"There’s many things you could do," she says, ticking off her fingers. "You could try dressing up in lingerie or blindfolding him before taking control. Maybe you could suggest watching porn together and trying out some new positions. The possibilities are endless, really."
I listen to her suggestions with a mix of excitement and nervousness. It's one thing to talk about being daring and adventurous—actually putting it into practice is a whole different story. But Amélie's enthusiasm is contagious, and I find myself getting more and more curious. I will not, however, watch porn with him, and I will not blindfold him either. Although, the lingerie part seems to excite me a bit. I actually packed a black lace set with me and I’m wearing it now. I thought it would give me some added confidence tonight, which it did. The feeling of the suspender hugging my waist and the delicate lace against my skin actually makes me feel sexy.
"Thanks for the ideas," I say, feeling a little bolder now. "I'll have to think about which one to try first."
Amélie gives me a knowing look. "Trust me, once you start, you won't want to stop. And who knows, maybe you'll end up being the adventurous one in the bedroom after all."
We stumble through the door to the apartment, our laughter echoing through the quiet space.
"Shhh, the boys might be sleeping," I whisper, my forefinger slightly askew from the middle of my lip.
"Let’s wake them. I’m hungry for some Thomas," Amélie says and another round of loud laughs escapes as we bend at the waist.
Suddenly, a voice echoes through the hallway, causing both of us to straighten up. "It's three thirty in the morning. You didn't say you'd be out this long," Thomas says, a note of sternness evident in his tone.
"Oh, don't worry Thomas, we had fun," Amélie replies with a big grin, walking towards him, her hands outstretched. He laughs, clearly not able to resist her.
He shakes his head. "You're so drunk, baby."
I might be super drunk, but not even that would make me miss the adoration in his eyes. He would do anything for Amélie, and she for him.
I want that.
"Yes, yes I am." She throws her arm around his neck. "And so is Leora."
"I can see that," Lucas drawls, his voice thick like molasses. I turn my head to the right and see him leaning against the wall. He’s so damn good looking it’s crazy; it’s not humanly possible to look like that.
"How about we get you two some water and then go to bed?" Lucas suggests, breaking the sexual tension, flowing from only me. He leaves for the kitchen and comes back with the bottles, handing one to Thomas.
"I’ll get her to bed. Good luck with yours." Thomas walks away holding on to Amélie, leaving me and Lucas alone. With his departure, my filter slowly starts to dissolve.
"You’re pretty," I blurt out, looking up at him with a coy expression.
Lucas smiles at me, his eyes locking on mine. "You're pretty too, Leora.”
The way he says my name is like an aphrodisiac. It could turn me on in any situation, making me wetter than the damn Mediterranean Sea.
My heart skips a beat as he moves closer to me, the scent of him making me dizzy.
"But you’re very drunk. Let’s get you to bed." He takes my hand and leads me toward the bedroom.
"Let’s get you to bed," I repeat. He chuckles, shaking his head.
He sets me down on the bed and crouches in front of me, opening the water bottle. "Drink some water."
I do as he says, staring at him the whole time.
"Good girl, keep drinking." He pauses, eyeing me. "How are you feeling? Can you get dressed or do you need help?"
Amélie’s words come back to me, take control .
"I feel great," I stand up, stumbling, and his hands go to my thighs, steadying me.
I think he wants me .
As I try to remove my dress, my drunken state gets the best of me, and I end up almost falling over. Lucas quickly stands up, catching me.
"Maybe you do need some help," he says, laughter evident in his voice.
Without another word, he moves closer to me and begins to undo the zipper on my dress.
Oh my God, it’s working.
He slides the dress off my shoulders, his fingers gliding along my bare skin, igniting a tingling sensation everywhere he touches me.
"Close your eyes," I whisper as I look back, watching him as he does what I say. I step out of my dress, and I turn to face him. Wearing only my heels and lace lingerie, I command, "Open."
When he does, his eyes immediately roam my body and grow wide when they meet mine again.
The sexual tension between us is potent as he continues to stare at me, his gaze intense and unwavering.
My hands go behind my back, fumbling with my bra clasp.
"Leora," he swallows hard, making his Adam’s apple bob. His voice is barely above a whisper when he asks, "What are you doing?"
My hands finally manage to unclasp my bra, and I slowly take it off. His eyes quickly move down to my exposed breasts and his eyes grow even wider before he returns his gaze to my face. He takes a step back, his eyes still locked on mine, and I can see the conflict warring within him.
Why isn’t he touching me yet?
Why isn’t he doing anything?
Take control, Leora, show him how much you really want him.
I take a step forward, closing the distance between us. "Lucas," I say softly, trying to read his expression. "I want you."
He doesn't move an inch as I press my body closer to him. I can sense his attraction pressed against my stomach and I finally feel his hands come up to rest on my hips, his touch sending electricity through my body.
It’s working.
I try to lift up onto my toes so I can fully reach his height, but it's hard in my heels.
"Please," I whisper desperately, my breath hot against his skin. "I need you."
That seems to be all the encouragement he needs. He emits a low, hungry growl and pulls me closer, his lips crashing into mine in a fervent and hungry kiss. My arms eagerly wrap around his neck, drawing him in even closer as my tongue meets his.
His hands, strong and commanding, roam my entire body, leaving a trail of tingling sensations in their wake. I'm on fire, consumed by the passion that courses through me. I moan into his mouth, unable to control the overwhelming feeling of him. That spurs him on; he sighs into my mouth and grabs my ass, squeezing it with possessive desire.
This is it. This is what I’ve been waiting for.
I stumble a little as he walks me backward, and it breaks our kiss for a second. But it was a second too long, because the heat and desire in Lucas’s eyes slowly morph into concern as he pulls back.
"No."
No . What does he mean by no .
"Yes," I despairingly answer him back, attempting to kiss him again.
"Leora, stop. I can't . . . not like this," he says, his voice strained. "You're drunk—you're not thinking clearly."
I ignore his words, reaching for him, my hands grazing his chest, desperate for his touch. "Lucas, please," I beg, my voice hoarse with desire.
He grabs my wrists, pulling them away from his body gently.
"No, Leora. I can't do this."
His words hit me like a slap in the face, momentarily sobering me up. I look at him, my heart breaking at the conflict I see in his eyes.
"I'm sorry," I whisper, tears pricking at the corners of my eyes as I raise one of my hands to cover my breasts, feeling exposed. "I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable."
He sighs, still holding on to me. "You didn’t. It's not you, Leora, it's me. You’re drunk and I got caught up in the moment with you, but I don't want to do anything that you’ll regret in the morning. You said it yourself, we’re friends, and that wouldn’t be very friendly of me . "
"Friends?" I echo back.
We’re friends.
Only friends.
We stand there for a moment, the atmosphere between us thick. But he breaks it by releasing my wrist and stepping back. "I'll get you something to sleep in," he says.
The desire that coursed through my body moments ago turns into shame as I slip on the t-shirt he brings me.
I was mistaken.
I was wrong.
I’ve made a fool of myself.
Why did I think that I could be sexy like Amélie? Why did I think this would work? Why did I put myself in this situation? I’m not Melina, what Lucas and I have is not physical at all, we’re just an arrangement to fix our own personal problems.
Of course, we’re friends.
That’s the only thing I am to him.
Lucas’s eyes try to find mine but I can’t allow myself to look at him right now. If I do, I’ll cry.
His voice is soft when he speaks, as if he’s afraid he’ll break me into pieces.
If only he knew how fragile I’m feeling at this second.
"Let’s get you to bed."
He picks up the duvet and helps me get in. I quickly turn my back to him, my tears ready to spill.
"I’m sorry, I-I shouldn’t have . . ." I try to say but he presses a gentle kiss to my temple, stopping me from speaking any more.
"You have nothing to be sorry for. We can talk tomorrow. Get some sleep, Ya Amar ."
I break.
The tears fall and there’s nothing I can do to stop them.
Nothing .
It’s as if the dam I built to hold them back has burst, and now I'm left exposed and defenseless. Lucas's kind and understanding words only make me feel worse. I feel like a complete fool for letting myself believe there could be something more between us.
Lucas moves away, and I think he’s about to leave, but he hesitates. I need him to leave, to let me cry in peace.
"Please, leave," I plead.
With a heavy breath, he finally exits our bedroom.
I'm left alone and the weight of my own foolishness crashes down on me as I replay every interaction we've ever had, analyzing them for signs that I must have misread.
But the truth is, deep down, I knew. I knew that our arrangement was strictly for show, that we were supposed to act in public and be friends in private—that was the agreement. No touching in private was my condition, my damned rule . And yet, in my desperation and longing, I let myself believe that there was a chance for something between us. Something more than my lust.
I’ve been fooling myself this whole time, because right this second, it’s not only my ego that’s bruised. There’s pain in parts of my heart too.
Am I starting to fall for him?
The realization makes me cry even harder. I cry and cry, my tears staining the pillow beneath me. I feel so unwanted and so na?ve.
How am I going to face him tomorrow? How can I look him in the eyes without feeling the burning sting of humiliation? How can I pretend that everything is okay when I feel so broken?
I wish I could rewind time and undo this mess I've made. But I know I can't.
I’m not talking about this tomorrow. We made a deal, and I will fulfill it, but I’ll keep my distance. I’m not allowing myself to fall any further.