Chapter 9 Tessa
TESSA
The fire crackled in the hearth as I settled against his chest on the leather couch. His arms encircled me, but I could feel the tension radiating through his body despite the comfortable position.
"Tell me about the meeting," I said softly as I picked at a loose thread on his shirt.
"It doesn't concern you."
The dismissive tone would've stung weeks ago. Now I recognized it for what it was—deflection. It was him being uncomfortable with his vulnerability. "Lucian."
He sighed, his chin resting on top of my head. "Viktoria wanted to discuss rumors. Apparently, the children are concerned about my personal life affecting their social standing."
"And?"
"And she made it clear that any scandal would reflect poorly on Blake and Elena." His voice hardened. "As if she cared about protecting them during our divorce when she was leaking stories to every gossip columnist in Chicago."
I twisted in his arms to look at his face. The firelight made his face crawl with dark shadows, highlighting the tension around his eyes. "What else did she say?"
"Nothing worth repeating." His hands moved to my waist, pulling me closer. "I'd rather focus on this."
His mouth found mine, and he seemed hungry and demanding, but I pulled back gently. "Lucian, wait."
"Why?" His gray eyes darkened. "This is what we do, Tessa. This is what works." He looked confused, and I felt nervous all of a sudden.
I knew what he told me about this being no strings attached. Not for a single second did I believe we would end up in some sort of relationship, but he clearly needed a friend, and I was here.
I placed my palms flat against his chest, feeling his heartbeat beneath the cashmere.
I studied his face, seeing the walls he'd built, the careful distance he maintained even when we were skin to skin.
"I don't want to be your blow-up doll," I said quietly, "even if this is supposed to be no-strings. "
His expression shifted, surprise flickering across his features. "That's not what this is."
"Then talk to me. Really talk to me. You need a friend, and I'm a good listener.
It doesn't mean anything except that we are two mature adults who like to participate in coitus together, and we have things in common.
Alright? It doesn't have to be complicated.
I can just see you're upset. I don’t want you taking that emotion out during sex if I'm the person you're having sex with. I want the sex to be free and fun."
For a long moment, he said nothing. The fire popped and hissed, and I felt uncomfortable.
My gut churned as if I'd crossed a line, but he sighed and let his shoulders loosen up as I straddled him.
When he finally spoke, his voice was quieter than I'd ever heard it.
"My marriage failed because I was never present. I was building Cross Capital, working eighteen-hour days, traveling constantly. Viktoria used to joke that she was raising the children alone, but it wasn't funny. It was true."
I remained silent, sensing he needed to continue.
"Blake was nine when we divorced. Elena was ten, almost eleven.
They blamed me for breaking up the family, for choosing work over them.
And they were right." He ran a hand through his silver hair.
"I missed school plays, soccer games, birthdays.
I thought providing for them was enough, but children need more than money. "
"You were a good father, Lucian," I said carefully, "building their future."
"Was I? Or was I just running from the responsibility of being a father? It's easier to negotiate mergers than to help with homework. Easier to close deals than to comfort a crying child."
The vulnerability in his voice made my chest ache. This powerful man who commanded boardrooms was admitting to his deepest perceived failure. I saw the ache in his eyes and heard it in his voice.
"They still love you," I said. "Children always do, even when they're hurt."
"Do they? Blake barely speaks to me unless he needs something. Elena calls maybe once a month. They see me as a bank account, not a father."
I readjusted on his lap and felt the evidence of his arousal, but I focused on his heart instead. "You can't change the past. But you could try building bridges now."
"How? They're adults with their own lives. I'm just the man who pays their bills."
"Start small. Call Elena about something other than money. Ask Blake about his classes. Show interest in their lives, not their expenses."
He let his head drop on the headrest behind him and looked up at me. "When did you become so wise about family dynamics?"
"When I watched my mother struggle to raise me alone. I know what it feels like to want a parent's attention." I reached for his hand, threading our fingers together. "Your children don't want your money, Lucian. They want to know they matter to you."
"They do matter. They always have."
"Then show them. It's never too late."
Something shifted in his expression, a softening around his eyes. "You really believe that?"
"I do."
He cupped my face in his hands, his thumbs brushing across my cheekbones. "How do you do that?"
"Do what?"
"Make me believe things could be different."
Before I could respond, his mouth was on mine, but this kiss was different. Slower, deeper, full of passion and tenderness I hadn't ever experienced from him.
When he pulled away I physically ached for his lips to return to mine again.
"Tessa," he whispered against my lips.
"I know."
The fire warmed the room, but Lucian’s body was the real heat I felt. His hands slid down my back, palms tracing the curve of my spine as he pulled me closer against him.
I could taste the wine he’d had lingering on his mouth, but it was softened now, not demanding. His kiss deepened slowly, intent in a way that had me arching into him without hesitation.
He shifted beneath me, the smooth leather couch creaking faintly as I straddled him more fully. The tension in his frame had eased, but not the strength—his arms locked around me, holding me steady as though he refused to let me slip away.
I pressed down against him, feeling the firm ridge beneath his pants. His breath caught, and I savored the sound, pressing my lips to his jaw.
“Bedroom,” he growled, and he was already shifting to stand.
But I shook my head, brushing my lips along his throat. “Here.”
Something dangerous flickered in his eyes, but he didn’t argue. He lifted me, shifting his hips until I was flat against the couch beneath him.
His mouth covered mine again, hunger reasserting itself. He kissed me until I was dizzy, until I hardly heard the fire popping in the hearth.
My blouse was the first thing he stripped away, the buttons undone one by one until his mouth was on my collarbone.
His teeth grazed lightly across my skin, and my back arched into him. The bra followed, tossed carelessly aside, his gaze locking on me as if memorizing every curve.
His hands cupped my breasts, his thumbs circling until I gasped.
“Beautiful,” he mumbled against my skin while his fingers kneaded my nipples.
Heat pooled low in my stomach at the reverence in his tone.
I tugged at his sweater, impatient now, and he let me peel it off him.
His torso was warm beneath my palms, hard muscle and strength revealed in the flickering glow.
My fingers trailed over the ridges of his abdomen, drawing a soft sound from his throat.
He shifted down, unfastening my jeans, and tugged them away. I was almost bare beneath him, skin tingling with every brush of his hand.
He leaned over me, kissing down my stomach, his mouth finding the sensitive skin just above the lace edge of my panties. My hips lifted without my permission, a plea my body made before I could speak.
He slipped them off, dragging the fabric slowly over my thighs, his eyes never leaving mine. Then his mouth was on me, and the world narrowed to nothing but sensation.
My fingers tangled in his silver hair as his tongue worked into me. The firelight danced across his shoulders, his hands pinning my thighs apart while he drove me higher.
“Lucian,” I gasped, unable to hold back. My body tightened, every nerve alive as he built me higher, drawing out the moment until the release finally broke through me.
Waves of heat tore through my body, tightening every muscle until I came loose in a shattering orgasm.
My thighs clenched around his face, my cry spilling into the room as tremors shook me, rolling in wave after wave until I was left shaking beneath him.
He didn’t stop. His tongue coaxed me through it, until I thought I might collapse from the intensity. When his mouth finally left me, I was panting, my chest rising and falling rapidly.
He rose over me again, pressing a kiss to my lips so I could taste myself there while he unfastened his pants.
I watched him as he reached into his wallet and pulled out a condom. The foil packet crinkled as he tore it open, rolling the condom on his girth and seating it.
I felt a strange relief knowing even in this intensity, he thought of protection.
His weight settled against me, his length nudging at my entrance. He kissed me again, slower this time, and then pushed inside. The stretch drew a gasp from me, my nails digging lightly into his back.
He filled me completely, holding still for a moment, forehead resting against mine.
“Perfect,” he murmured, his voice strained.
I tightened around him instinctively, and the sound he made in response thrilled me.
He shifted us suddenly, rolling so he was on his back and pulling me back on top of him. The change left me gasping, my palms braced against his chest as I settled onto him again. He filled me even deeper from this angle, and I rocked against him and moaned
His hands gripped my hips, guiding my rhythm as I rode him. Every movement sent fire through me, sparks bursting behind my eyes as I rose and fell.
He watched me with intensity, gray eyes fixed on mine, his chest heaving under my touch.