10. Tamsyn
10
Tamsyn
“We need to come to an understanding.” The new huskiness in Lucien’s voice doesn’t help. “You and I.”
I watch him warily. “Okay…?”
“You’re here. You’re staying here until the police are satisfied that none of us had anything to do with Ravenna’s death. Then we can figure out what’s next.”
I open my mouth because his directives are getting to be a bit much this afternoon, but he never gives me a chance.
“Don’t talk to the police without them going through me and your attorney first. Understood?”
I don’t speak for a couple of beats. His brows go up.
“I’m allowed to talk now?” I say.
His jaw tightens. “By all means.”
“I don’t have money for an attorney. And why do I need one anyway when I can quickly explain that I have an alibi?”
“I thought you understood,” he says, his expression growing steadily darker. “I’m getting an attorney for you.”
“I thought you understood,” I say, scoffing. “I don’t want anything from you.”
His speculative gaze skates over me, light as a feather. “Nothing?”
I could smack him for doing this to me — heating me up and making me sizzle inside even though I know he’s poison. I could kill him for doing this to me. “Nothing.”
Unfortunately, my most targeted death stare produces only an unconvinced shrug from him. “Let’s circle back to that. We’ll get everything else figured out when the time comes. For now, all you need to know is that I’m going to do anything I need to do to protect you. Whatever it takes.”
I’d really planned to hang onto my cool cucumber routine for as long as possible, but if he wants to go there, I’m willing to get into it. Anything is better than surrendering to the unwanted but overwhelming feminine thrill of seeing how vehement this powerful man is about taking care of my safety. “Like hire security to follow me without my knowledge, you mean?” I say, my voice hardening to a sword’s edge.
A gleam of satisfaction from him. “Exactly like that. And you were glad they were there when the paps swarmed you. Don’t deny it.”
“I was glad they were there, but it would be nice to know what major events are swirling around my life ahead of time every now and then. Sadly, that doesn’t seem to be how things work with you.”
His expression falls. “Tamsyn…”
“Anything else?” I reach for Orion’s reins, so over this whole conversation and desperate to be anywhere else than with him. It’s almost better to be cooped up in my room wishing for him rather than confronted with him. I don’t know what to do with all these churning emotions. I’m like a time bomb inside. “While you’re issuing directives?”
I think it’s a pretty good parting line. I turn my back on him and start to put my foot in the stirrup to see if I can climb up by myself. But he swoops in, hefting me up. The next thing I know, I’m settled sideways on the saddle. With my skirt hiked up higher than it needs to be and his hands — big, hard, hot hands — resting on my bare thighs. Orion shifts beneath me but now is not the time for that horse. Lucien stares up at me. I stare down at him, riveted, my breath hissing. The dappled sun through the leaves hits his eyes just right, making them blaze.
“Yeah, there’s something else.” He steps closer, locking me in his gaze as he runs his nose along my sensitive inner thigh. My entire body erupts with delicious goose flesh. “I’m sorry. Please forgive me.”
It takes everything I have to work up a scoffing sound at these words I’ve desperately wanted to hear. “Why would I do that?”
“Because I want you back.”
I gasp, my heart lurching. Oh, God. Oh, God .
And what do I do when confronted with this unholy temptation? The smart thing, which is to hop down and run back to the house and barricade myself in my room for the duration? No, ma’am. Not I. I put my hands on his head and pull him in hard as I widen my legs for him, savoring his growl of pleasure.
I don’t know how we manage this precarious balancing act. I don’t know how Lucien manages to steady the shimmying horse with one hand while also nudging my panties aside with the other, but he does everything with his usual expertise. I know I’m safe. Physically safe, anyway. He zeros in, finding my spot with ridiculous ease and nuzzling and lapping me up until there’s nothing left but my unabashed cries and blind pleasure. I give him everything. There’s no way I can hold it back. It’s all too close to the surface and I’ve missed him far too much. I arch into his mouth, the spasming pleasure washing so easily over me after all the stimulation of gripping a horse between my thighs. It’s such a thrill to have his hands on me again. Such a blessed relief. Such a miracle that I don’t tumble off that horse and melt into the earth beneath Lucien’s booted feet.
It’s the longest, brightest, hottest orgasm of my life. The only problem is that no matter how long I ride that endless crest of ecstasy, I can’t get far enough to outrun the shame that’s right on its heels. The last few ripples and pulses are still working their way through my body when I tighten my fingers in his hair and yank him away from me as hard as I just pulled him closer. I slam my legs shut against him. I swing my leg over the saddle, pretending I don’t feel the sweetly lingering ache in my clit the same way I don’t see my juices smeared across his lush lips, the turbulence in his eyes or the massive erection still tenting the front of those sexy riding pants.
So he’s suffering from blue balls? His dick is uncomfortable and unsatisfied while my pussy feels like its covered in glittering butterflies? Good . It’s exactly what he deserves. Let all his lower hardware shrivel up, fall off and die for all I care.
Let him atone .
“Let’s go back,” I say, keeping my gaze resolutely straight ahead as I scoot back to make room for him.
But he surprises me by swinging into the saddle behind me once he unties Orion’s reins, putting them in my hands and making sure I’ve got the grip right. And you know what? I take them. “You’re in charge,” he says quietly.
“Good.” I sit up straighter. I hold my hand out and demand more. “I need the crop, don’t I?”
He spins it around and plants in my hand without a word, allowing both of us to pretend I know what the hell I’m supposed to do with the thing.
Then he wraps his arms around my waist and pulls me back against the solid expanse of his torso, and it’s kind of fun to pretend it’s comfortable and emotionally safe there even though I know it’s not. He makes his horse noise and clicks his heels and we’re off again, Orion steered more by his natural instincts and the secret cues that Lucien gives him behind me than any newfound equestrian skills from me. I stiffen my posture, trying to move with the horse rather than with Lucien. I strain away from Lucien and his rigid erection as best I can, but my body is weak and we both proved it back there under that willow tree. Worse, he doesn’t make it easy for me, running his hands up and down my flexing thighs, nuzzling the sweet spot where my neck meets my shoulder and helping himself to my breasts and my belly and all of me he can reach.
And I don’t stop him. I hate him, but I don’t stop him.
“You’re in charge,” he says again, his voice just loud enough for me to hear over the rush of wind in my ears. “But I want you back.”
That’s when I feel it. A healthy dose of unease. Because he sounds like he means it. And my will has never stood a chance when it’s up against his will. Especially when he’s offering me something I want or need. God knows I want his groveling apology for the way he ripped my heart out. I need to hear his explanation for what he did. I want him to give me a graceful way off this playing field so I don’t have to try to hate him forever. But—what then? I forgive him and we resume our lives with me praying he never does it again? The thought makes me shudder. No. It’s not happening. I don’t trust my judgment where he’s concerned. Nor do I trust myself not to burst into ugly sobbing if we go much further down this path. “This is sex. Everyone knows that sex doesn’t have to mean a thing. Don’t make it more than it is.”
“Lie to yourself if you want to,” he says, his lips brushing my ear. “You can’t lie to me.”
My heart sinks until it feels as though it’s resting hard in the pit of my stomach and I pull away from him. He withdraws his hands and we ride the rest of the way in silence, thank goodness. When we reach the house, Lucien starts to guide Orion to the path in front of the front door to drop me off where he picked me up, but I tighten my grip on the reins and steer him over to the garage, stopping in front of the keypad. Then I swing down by myself and stare up at Lucien with all the icy defiance inside of me. Which is a lot.
“What’s the code?” I say.
He tells me.
I punch it in, standing back when the door swings up. Then I walk inside, making a show surveying all his precious luxury cars. By the time I swing my attention back around to him, he’s swung down from the horse and is watching me closely.
“Something you need, Mrs. Scott?”
“I’m taking the Range Rover into the city for the day tomorrow.” I don’t mention where I think I’m going to go with his fancy car — I have no fucking idea, to be honest — but that’s not the point, and we both know it. “By myself.”
There’s a pause during which I’m sure he battles his protective demons. “As long as you come back.”
I nod, satisfied, and start to walk off. But he calls after me.
“I’m also going into the city tomorrow. To the office. You could stop by. See it.”
I freeze. This is one of the most insidious things about Lucien. The thing that most gets under my skin. He never lets me have a win. He dangles these endless temptations in front of me (I’m dying to see his office; of course I am) and uses my own obsession with him against me.
I don’t know if I’ll ever be free of him. But I need to keep trying even if I can’t force myself to give him an outright no on this one. Or anything else, evidently.
“We’ll see,” I say, continuing my way.
He lets me go for once. After a beat or two, I hear the creak of the saddle as he mounts Orion again followed by Orion’s swift hooves as he sets off. But even this tiny getaway is ruined when I slip into the cool confines of the house and immediately run into Roman, whose swift shocked gaze runs over me and reveals that he sees me as exactly what I am. A woman with high color, erect nipples and a dress with a skirt that’s been wrinkled beyond all recognition. A woman who’s been fucked to within an inch of her life despite having been brutally dumped a few days ago. And it’s not that I care about Roman’s moral judgments as I scurry up to my bedroom with my head down. He’s a man who has sex with women he pays for the pleasure. Fuck him.
It’s just that I can’t stand for anyone else to see me in this dark moment when I hate the weakness in myself a million times worse than I could ever hate Lucien.