Under editing
Coz he was sunshine, she was midnight rain
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Ivy Kennedy
She's a legend before twenty-Hollywood's golden girl, the youngest self-made billionaire, and a model who owns every runway she walks. Ruthless. Unbreakable. A force of natur...
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"Lucas? That's your name," I say, slightly confused.
He nods. "Everyone calls me 'Lucas,' but you... you call me Lyn. I love it when you call me by that name," he says in a baby voice, making me smile.
"Wow, you are so pretty, Storm," he says, his eyes shining with adoration. With his finger he gently touches the corder of my lips . " your eyes are so pretty. And your hair looks so soft," he says, fiddling with my hair.
"Lyn, my eyes are hazel. You must have seen thousands of eyes with the same color."
"Maybe, but yours are the ones that tell a story," he says, making me freeze.
"You're just drunk, Lyn," I say, trying to avoid eye contact.
"True..." he says, turning around and burying his face in my stomach. He places my hand on his hair. Smiling, I gently massage his hair, and a contented sigh escapes his lips.
The car finally comes to a stop in front of the house. The gentle hum of the engine ceases, and the sudden silence feels almost deafening. Lucas, still nestled on my lap, is fast asleep, his breath slow and steady against my stomach. I gently run my fingers through his hair, reluctant to wake him, but knowing we can't stay in the car all night.
"Lucas," I whisper, shaking his shoulder lightly.
"Lucas, wake up. We're home."
He stirs slightly, mumbling something incoherent, but doesn't wake. His grip on my waist tightens for a moment before relaxing again. I sigh, realizing this is going to be more challenging than I thought. Carefully, I slide out from under him, trying to support his weight as I do so. His head falls limply against the seat, and he groans, blinking groggily up at me.
"Come on, Lucas," I say softly. "We need to get you inside."
With considerable effort, I manage to hoist him up, draping one of his arms around my shoulders. He leans heavily on me, his legs almost giving out beneath him as I guide him towards the house. Each step feels like a small victory, but by the time we reach the front door, I'm nearly out of breath.
"Just a little further," I murmur. The guard notices us and quickly opens the door. We stumble inside, the cool air of the house a stark contrast to the warmth outside.
I aim for the couch in the living room, but Lucas is almost dead weight now, making it difficult to maneuver. "Lucas, please," I plead. "You have to help me a little."
His eyes flutter open, and he looks at me with a hazy, drunken smile. "You're so pretty, Storm," he slurs, his head lolling to the side.
I can't help but smile despite the situation. "Now's not the time, Lyn."
With renewed determination, I manage to drag him up the stairs, one slow step at a time. By the time we reach his room, I'm sweating and my muscles ache. God knows how I managed to carry this giant 6'3" muscled creature. I push the door open with my leg and guide him towards the bed. He collapses onto it with a sigh, his eyes already closing again.
