33. Crème Brûlée
CRèME br?LéE
*finish with a torch. Nothing matches real fire.
I never knew Lucas could move so quickly until he was dragging me down the narrow Parisian street to hail a taxi. His grip on my hand was firm and unyielding, and I had to jog to keep up with his long strides. Thank God I had opted for flats instead of my other shoes.
I didn’t even realize his standard security team was trailing us until a taxi pulled up like it had been summoned out of thin air, followed by another sliding to the curb behind it.
Lucas paid neither of them any heed, simply dragging me into the back and barking out the address. The stern, no-nonsense CEO was back. But instead of taking over an industry, he was planning a takeover of me .
We reached his hotel in a matter of minutes, one of the many expensive places near Pont Neuf and the Louvre. One where the snooty concierge and nearly all the staff offered a friendly “ Bonjour, Monsieur Lyons” to one of their premier guests.
It was like they hadn’t spoken as Lucas towed me through the lobby to a bank of elevators and then up to where his room was shockingly not the penthouse.
Not that this suite was any less luxurious.
The whole thing was about triple the size of Louis’s little garret, complete with two balconies that overlooked the river, Sainte-Chapelle, and the Eiffel Tower in the distance.
He pulled me through an anteroom containing a dining table and a small desk surprisingly bereft of any computers, papers, or any business paraphernalia, then into a bedroom in which the center stood the biggest bed I’d ever seen, dressed in a cloud-like duvet and a mountain of pillows.
It was funny, I mused as I looked around, taking in the space.
I’d never actually seen any of the bedrooms Lucas booked when we traveled.
My quarters were lovely, but lower-level guest rooms compared to the primary suites he always occupied.
Had they all been like this? Massive, luxurious, overflowing?
Rooms like this must have cost a fortune, and we’d been traveling between them, to much larger accommodations, for several weeks.
And Lucas thought nothing of it.
“Marie.”
The door clicked shut behind us, and I turned to find Lucas approaching. He looked like he was ready to pounce.
All thoughts of lodging fled my mind.
“What are you thinking?” He took my hand and ran his thumb over my knuckles. Then he pulled me close enough to feel the heat of his body. Sense the vibration that had been running through it since the café.
“I-I don’t know,” I said honestly, utterly transfixed by the intensity in those slate-blue eyes.
He slipped a hand around my back and under the hem of my shirt. His lips met mine in a kiss that seemed to be vying for control but quickly descended into heat and hunger.
“Fuck,” he breathed just before he plundered my mouth again. “I missed this. I missed you .”
It was hard to speak. Every time he broke the kiss, I lunged for another. “It was only…only a few days.”
“Yes, but before that, it was ten years.” His tongue twisted around mine, urgent and deliberate. “And thirty more before I ever met you.” He broke the kiss fully then, taking a moment to catch his breath while he pressed his forehead to mine. “I think I missed you before I ever knew you.”
My heart caught in my throat, thumping hard and full.
Before I could respond, he launched another onslaught as he backed me toward the bed.
“Tell me you believe me,” he ordered as my heels touched the bottom of the platform. “Tell me you feel it too. Even if it’s just a little.”
I did. That was the problem. I felt everything .
But it was too much—too fast—too soon. We’d already made that mistake once in the alley.
My eyes popped open as his mouth traveled down my neck, his tongue twirling that familiar, maddening magic down my throat before his teeth latched in a gentle bite over my pulse.
It was so much.
Lucas. The gorgeous suite. The lavish gifts. His relentless pursuit paired with his touch, his voice, his words— oh , his words.
Even the ones that hurt.
And maybe the ones he didn’t say.
He buys everything. And now he thinks he’s bought you. The cold thought slashed through the heat he was cultivating like one of his fancy knives. You were just another thing he decided he wanted.
“Wait,” I gasped just as his hands slipped up the back of my shirt, ghosting over my shivering skin. “Wait, wait, wait .”
With a pained look, Lucas ripped himself away. “What is it?”
His breathing was labored again, like he was in the middle of a long race, and it was only when I took in the rumpled state of his shirt that I realized I’d been tugging at it, my hands in a death grip around the now-crumpled collar.
With immense focus, I released them. “I…I just need a minute.”
His brows twitched, like he didn’t quite believe me, but after a moment, he gave a curt nod. “Take all the time you need.”
I fled before he could see the panic that was undoubtedly on my face and slipped into the palatial bathroom, closing the door behind me. There, I splashed cold water on my face, allowing the water to run while I gripped the sink like it—or I—might shatter.
My skin burned; my thoughts spun. It was the same feeling I’d had at the club, except this time, I couldn’t blame a drink or drugs or even something as simple as fatigue.
Lucas’s presence, the mere facts of his life, made me feel like I was being pulled in a thousand different directions.
Logic, pride, longing, shame—all of them pointed back to him.
I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. Then another. And another, focusing on breathing so intensely that I didn’t notice the door had opened behind me until it closed with a loud click.
I opened my eyes to find Lucas’s reflection behind me, filling the space with his typical, solid quiet.
Slowly, he reached around me and turned off the water. Then kept his hands braced on the sink on either side of me, effectively pinning me to the counter.
Oddly, I didn’t feel trapped. Not with him.
Curious. Maybe it was the rest of it that felt so overwhelming. The money, the deals, the past, the family.
When it was just us, my heart found its normal rhythm.
He was shirtless now, his skin golden even under the bathroom lights that cast shadows under the honed muscles of his chest and abdomen.
“You wanted a minute. It’s been three.” His lips feathered over my skin. “You ran again.”
Our eyes met in the mirror. I couldn’t move. “I needed some space.”
I watched that mouth move back and forth over the curve between my neck and shoulder. It seemed so gentle, but I could see the way the muscles of his arms shook with tension in the mirror, the way his knuckles had turned white from his forceful grip on the counter.
He was holding back.
“Is it me?” he asked softly. “Did you change your mind?”
I watched, utterly transfixed by the steady progress of his mouth back and forth over my shoulder like the pendulum of a clock. With every oscillation, my shoulders relaxed a bit more.
“Not about you,” I managed to say. “Just…everything else.”
Those lips completed one more journey to my shoulder and back before pressing a longer, lingering kiss just above my clavicle. “What do you need, my sweet Marie?”
“I…” I sucked in another tight breath as his teeth found my earlobe and worried it lightly between them. “I don’t know. Lucas .”
“I need to hear you say my name like that every fucking day until I die.” His voice rumbled while powerful arms slid around my waist. “But what else can I do for you?”
“I don’t…” I trailed off with a whole-body shudder as his tongue swiped up the shell of my ear, then dipped inside like he was savoring a lick of ice cream. “I…”
“It’s all right, baby,” he murmured as he continued nibbling. “We can stop if you want.”
His mouth floated back down my neck, brushing over my jaw while his hands locked more tightly around my waist, but did nothing more.
He meant what he said, I realized. I was in charge.
And therein lay yet another problem.
“No, I don’t want to stop,” I finally admitted. My hands reached back, finding the belt loops of his pants to pull him harder against me.
Lucas expelled a choked breath as his erection slid between the cleft of my backside through his pants and my skirt. In all honesty, I would have preferred nothing there at all.
“I want…” I tried again. “I want more. I just…”
God, why was this so hard? The ache between my legs was fully throbbing now, but I was so lost, so clueless, I had no idea how to solve the problem before me.
Lucas’s hands stilled on my waist, keeping me from coiling in on myself.
He knew my moves.
He had already learned them in such a short time.
“Marie, look at me.”
The command was clear. Kind. Soft-spoken. But expecting it would be obeyed.
I obeyed.
There was a calm in the storm I found in his reflection. A softness just for me.
“I want more,” I answered. “I just…Lucas, I don’t know what to ask for. I don’t know what to do next.”
I half-expected a jeer. A steely barb as sharp as one of the Japanese knives. The wicked shinjuku, or maybe the deceptively small bird’s peak paring knife, curved like a talon. Like something Joni, God love her, would have thrown my way when we were kids.
Instead, the softness expanded, welcoming and kind.
My fears quieted even more.
“Do you want to know how to please me?” Lucas asked as he tucked a bit of hair behind my ear. “Or do you want me to learn to please you some more?”
One side of that full mouth lifted, and my chest squeezed in response. He’d never know how that almost smile was like a key turning in the lock around my heart.
“Can I say both?” I wondered. “Because I want…I want both.”
A dimple appeared. Only on the right side and oh-so-faint, but it was there, nonetheless.
The lock turned, and that smile opened a door somewhere deep inside me. The rest of the noise inside my head flew right out.