Chapter 4 Lucian
LUCIAN
I woke up to the unfamiliar warmth of another body pressed against mine.
Tessa's hair spilled across my chest in tangled waves, her face peaceful in sleep. My arm had gone numb where she'd been using it as a pillow, but I didn't want to move and risk waking her.
Once against the kitchen counter when the conversation about being "taken care of" had sparked something hungry in her.
Again in my bed, slow and thorough, until she'd begged me to stop teasing her.
Then once more around three in the morning when she'd woken me by trailing her fingers down my chest and gripping my dick to stroke me until I was hard enough for her to ride.
My body was already responding to the memory, hardening against her hip where she lay draped across my bed like she owned it.
She looked exhausted, though, dark smudges under her eyes and that boneless quality that came from being thoroughly satisfied. I wanted to roll her onto her back and start all over again, but she needed rest.
Carefully, I slipped out from under her, pausing when she mumbled something unintelligible and reached for where I'd been. When she settled back into sleep, I pulled on boxer briefs and grabbed my phone from the nightstand.
The penthouse was quiet except for the hum of the heating system.
Tessa's clothes were still scattered across the living room and kitchen—dress crumpled on the floor, shoes kicked under the coffee table, that scrap of black lace she'd called panties draped over my favorite armchair.
The sight stirred something feral in me, a satisfaction at marking my territory.
I started the coffee machine and checked my phone while it worked. Three missed calls from Daniel, two from my assistant at the London office, and a handful of emails marked Urgent.
The snow emergency alert showed Level 2 now—essential traffic could resume, trains would be running within a few hours.
Time to face reality.
What the hell had I been thinking? She was twenty-six years old.
My son Blake was nineteen, Elena twenty.
The math was uncomfortable no matter how I calculated it. Any rational person would look at us and see exactly what we were—a middle-aged man taking advantage of his young employee… Robbing the cradle.
Except it hadn't felt like taking advantage. She'd been every bit as eager as I was, matching my hunger with her own.
The way she'd responded to my touch, the sounds she'd made when I'd found that spot that drove her wild, the confidence with which she'd taken control when she'd climbed on top of me—none of that suggested a woman being coerced.
Still, the optics were terrible. If this got out, the board would crucify me. Sexual harassment lawsuits, workplace misconduct investigations, my reputation destroyed overnight.
Everything I'd spent decades building could collapse because I couldn't keep my hands off my assistant.
But God, she'd been incredible, responsive and passionate and so much more experienced than I'd expected. The memory of her mouth on me, the way she'd looked up at me with those hazel eyes while she'd taken me apart piece by piece, made my grip tighten on the coffee mug.
This was exactly the problem. I'd always been obsessive, single-minded in pursuing what I wanted.
It's what had made me successful in business and what had destroyed my marriage to Viktoria.
She'd accused me of being incapable of moderation, of consuming everything I touched until there was nothing left.
Maybe she'd been right. I'd certainly missed my relationship with my children, so consumed with focus on building the company that I'd missed soccer games and school plays and family dinners until they'd stopped inviting me.
Blake barely spoke to me now except when he needed money. Elena was slightly more forgiving but still kept me at arm's length, afraid I'd somehow manage to disappoint her again.
The coffee machine finished with a soft beep, and I poured two cups, adding cream to hers the way she took it at the office, straight black for myself.
It was a mundane domestic gesture that felt strangely intimate after the night we'd shared. None of which should ever have happened, and had we simply gotten the wine and gone back to the office, we'd have been snowed in with a dozen other employees and no chance of this.
Strange the way fate worked that.
Soft footsteps announced Tessa's approach. I turned to find her hovering in the kitchen doorway, wearing my old Harvard T-shirt and nothing else.
It hung just below her hips, covering the most intimate parts but leaving a shadow that made my cock twitch. Her hair was a mess, there were pillow creases on one cheek, and she looked thoroughly debauched. It was the most beautiful sight I'd seen in years.
"Morning," I said, offering her the mug.
"Thank you." She took it with both hands, using it as a shield between us. "I should get dressed. Find my clothes."
The nervous energy radiating from her was almost amusing. This was the same woman who'd whispered filthy suggestions in my ear just hours ago, who'd ridden me with abandon while I'd gripped her hips and watched her come undone above me. Now she acted as if I might pounce on her at any moment.
Which, to be fair, I might.
"The trains aren't running yet," I said, leaning against the counter. "Snow emergency was downgraded to Level 2, but public transport won't resume for another couple of hours."
"Oh." She sipped her coffee, staring into the mug instead of meeting my eyes. "I'm really sorry about last night. I don't know what came over me. I don't usually drink that much, and being stuck here, and you were so… I mean, I shouldn't have—"
"Tessa."
She stopped mid-ramble, finally looking at me.
"Do you regret it?"
She chewed on her lip, and I watched a shoulder bob up and down.
Then I watched emotions flicker across her face—embarrassment, confusion, and underneath it all, heat. When she spoke, her voice was barely audible.
"No."
Her response brought me measured relief. For now, some of my fears were unfounded. "Good. Because I don't either."
"But it was completely inappropriate. You're my boss, and I practically threw myself at you—"
"Pretty sure the throwing was mutual." I chuckled, moving closer, backing her against the kitchen island.
She set down her coffee with shaking hands. "Lucian, this is—"
"Complicated. I know." I placed my hands on the counter on either side of her, trapping her without quite touching. "But it doesn't have to be."
"How can you say that? You're my boss. People will think I slept with you for special treatment or job security or—"
"Did you?"
"What? No! Of course not." The horrified expression on her face made me want to kiss it away. It tugged at my heart in a strange way and I felt protective over her for a second.
"Then what people think doesn't matter." I leaned closer, and our skin didn't touch, but my stubble brushed her cheek as I whispered in her ear. "I usually get what I want, Tessa. It's how I built this company, how I've gotten everything I have. And I want you."
I was out of control and I knew it exposed the ruthless ambition that had cost me a marriage and my children's respect.
But with Tessa, that drive felt different somehow, less about conquest and more about genuine desire. Or maybe I was confusing the two. I just couldn’t stop myself. She was so alluring.
She swallowed hard, her pulse fluttering visibly at the base of her throat. "This could ruin both our careers."
"Only if we let it." I reached up to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear, gratified when she leaned into the touch instead of pulling away. "Sit. We need to figure out how to handle this."
She perched on one of the bar stools, still ready to bolt at the first sign of trouble. I took the seat next to her, close enough that our knees brushed.
"When Daniel asks about last night," I said, "tell him the truth. We came here to get the wine. You got caught in the storm and I offered you my guest room rather than let you risk traveling in dangerous conditions. Professional courtesy, nothing more."
"And if people ask where you were?" Her hand trembled a little as she brought her mug to her lips and sipped.
"I'll handle that. The important thing is acting normal at the office. No guilty looks, no awkward behavior, no special treatment that might raise eyebrows. Can you do that?"
Her spine straightened with that stubborn determination I'd come to admire. "I've never asked for special treatment."
"I know. It's one of the reasons I respect you."
Her phone chimed from the living room, and she left her coffee behind and slipped off the stool, padding across the room to retrieve it from her purse.
"Trains are running again," she said, reading the screen. "I need to get home. My cat hasn't been fed since yesterday morning."
Right. The cat.
Another reminder that she had an entire life I knew nothing about, routines and responsibilities that existed completely separate from me.
The thought bothered me a little, but what did I expect?
Nothing that was worth having would ever come easily, and maybe these speed bumps meant I needed to slow down and get my head on my shoulders.
"Of course," I said, though every instinct screamed at me to find excuses to keep her here longer.
She gathered her scattered clothing and disappeared into the guest bathroom to change. I found a cup of coffee and tried to organize my thoughts.
One night didn't mean anything. We were both adults, both capable of separating physical attraction from professional obligations. People had affairs all the time without it affecting their work.
So why did the prospect of watching her walk out that door feel like losing something irreplaceable?
She emerged fully dressed, looking as professional as she had for our work party. Her hair had been smoothed, shoulders straight, she looked every inch the competent assistant I'd relied on for years.
But I could see the change in her eyes, a new awareness that hadn't been there before when she looked at me.
"Thank you," she said formally. "For letting me stay, for the coffee."
"My pleasure. All of it…" God, my fingers itched to touch her. Especially when her eyes swept over my mostly naked form, lingering on the bulge where my dick was still partially swollen.
The double meaning of my comment wasn't lost on either of us. She ducked her head, color rising in her cheeks.
I walked her to the door but I kept my hands to myself. This was the moment that would determine whether last night remained an isolated incident or became the beginning of something more, because I wasn't about to let her leave without making her remember last night.
I had a good deal of self-control at times, but right now, it was buried under a mountain of unspent lust.
She reached for the handle, but I caught her wrist, spinning her back against the door. Her surprised gasp was cut short when I claimed her mouth, kissing her with all the hunger still coursing through me.
She melted against me immediately, her professional composure cracking as she kissed me back with desperate fervor. When I finally pulled away, we were both breathing hard.
"I meant what I said earlier," I murmured against her ear. "I want you. As often as you'll let me have you, however you're willing to take me… Think about it."
Her pupils were blown wide, lips swollen from my kiss. "Lucian—"
"Just think about it," I said, backing away.
She fumbled with the door handle, clearly rattled. When she finally managed to get it open, she paused on the threshold.
"This is insane," she whispered.
"The best things usually are."
She shook her head but didn't argue, slipping out into the hallway. I watched through the peephole as she waited for the elevator, noting how she touched her lips with trembling fingers.
When the elevator doors closed behind her, I stood there for a long moment, my mind already working.
How would I convince her that we could make this work? How could I have her without blowing either of our careers up?
She'd said she wasn't a quitter last night when she was losing at cards. Time to find out if that applied to more than games.
Because I had every intention of persuading her that what we'd started was worth the risk.
After all, I always got what I wanted. And I wanted Tessa Wynn more than I'd wanted anything in years.