Chapter 17 #2
“Lucian,” I whispered, half-plea, half-warning, but he didn’t stop. His hands framed my hips, steadying me as his mouth settled where I ached most.
The first stroke of his tongue tore a cry from my throat. My body clenched, and I fisted his hair, trying to ground myself as he worked me with slow even licks.
Every drag, every flick, pushed me higher, my hips rising to meet him.
He groaned against me, the sound vibrating through my skin until I was trembling all over.
Pressure built too fast, impossible to fight, and then I broke, coming hard with his name spilling from my lips.
My legs were boneless, and before I could catch my breath he was already pulling me up into his arms.
My back lifted from the door as he carried me across the room, his mouth finding mine again in a kiss that tasted like me.
The strength in his hold left no room for protest, only the wild rush of knowing he needed me enough to come here, to take me like this.
He lowered me onto the couch, settling me against the cushions before stripping his shirt open, while my hands fumbled at his belt. I wanted him naked, and I wanted him now.
"Christ, woman, I can't get you fast enough."
My fingers found his zipper, dragging it down. He pushed his pants away, leaving him hard and straining against the thin fabric of his briefs.
I reached for him, but his hand caught mine, pinning it above my head.
His other hand closed around my wrist and held me there, wrists bound together in his grip.
The restraint sent a fresh rush of heat through me, my chest heaving as his gaze locked on mine.
“You don’t get to touch yet,” he said, his voice hoarse. “I’ve wanted this too long. I need to set the pace.”
He shoved his briefs down, freeing himself, the sight of him thick and flushed pulling a low sound from my throat. He dragged the tip against me, smearing me open without giving me what I wanted. My hips rose, desperate, but his hold tightened.
“Lucian—”
His mouth crashed over mine, swallowing my protest. He pushed forward in one hard drive, filling me so deep, it stole the air from my lungs.
My back bowed, a sharp gasp breaking between us. His hand still pinned my wrists, the other braced at my hip as he pushed in deeper, grinding out a groan that vibrated against my mouth.
“Christ. You feel better than I remembered,” he rasped, forehead pressed to mine. “And I remembered every detail.”
I writhed beneath him, the ache unbearable until he began to move. Each thrust dragged me higher, my nails biting my palms where he held me captive, my body shuddering with the force of him.
His gray eyes burned into mine, hunger and fury twisted together in a way that terrified me and left me clinging to him all the same.
I tensed beneath him, breath stuttering. “Wait.”
The word cut through the haze, and for a moment his whole body went rigid above me.
His eyes searched mine, wild with need, until I whispered, “Condom.”
His jaw tightened. A beat passed, then he released my wrists and dragged in a rough breath. “Don’t move.”
He shoved up from the couch, reaching for the jacket he’d tossed aside.
His wallet hit the table with a thud, the foil torn open between his teeth.
The sight sent another pulse of heat through me, lust battling reason. He rolled the condom on, then came back to me in a rush.
His weight pressed me into the cushions, his mouth crushing mine as he drove back inside in one hard thrust.
The stretch tore a moan from me, my legs wrapping around his hips, pulling him deeper.
“God, Tessa.” His forehead dropped to my shoulder. “I’ve been starved for this.”
Each surge of his body slammed me higher, the pressure unbearable until it broke loose again.
I cried out, shuddering around him, nails clawing his back as my climax ripped through me.
My body clamped around him, pulsing hard as I clawed at his back, dragging him closer, desperate for more even as I splintered apart.
My cry rang against his shoulder, muffled by his skin, my nails leaving half-moons in his flesh as the orgasm rolled through me.
Lucian groaned a guttural sound, as his rhythm faltered, and he held me down, hips grinding into mine, fighting for control as I clenched around him.
His breath came rough in my ear, each thrust shorter, harder, until he shuddered.
“Christ, Tessa,” he rasped, voice breaking on my name.
His body locked tight, muscles rigid, and then he spilled inside the condom with a groan that vibrated through my chest. He thrust once, twice more, burying himself deep as the release tore out of him.
His face pressed to my throat, jaw clenched.
For a long moment neither of us moved, tangled and trembling, sweat dampening the air between us.
His lips brushed my jaw, then lingered against my temple, his chest rising and falling hard against mine.
His breath evened slowly, each exhale hot against my skin. I kept my eyes shut, afraid of what I’d see if I met his, afraid of what it meant that I hadn’t pushed him away.
When he finally shifted, he eased out of me with a low groan and pulled the condom free, tying it off before setting it on the table.
He sank back onto the couch beside me, one arm braced along the cushions, the other dragging over his face as though he could wipe away what had just happened.
I sat up enough to pull the blanket from the back of the couch across my chest. He seemed more tense now than he was before he kissed me, which didn't seem possible.
I scooted a few inches away where I could really take him in, and I felt like he was going to explode. I almost asked if he was okay, if we were okay, but there was no "we" anymore. I didn’t even know if there was an arrangement anymore.
"I need to tell you something," he grunted, and when he looked at me, he seemed upset, not enthralled in post-orgasmic bliss like he should’ve been. "This IVF plan of yours—it's been driving me insane."
I lifted my head to look at him. "What? Why? You seemed supportive before." I sat straighter, pulling the blanket over my chest higher. Suddenly, the intimacy of the moment had vanished and I felt on edge.
"Because I was trying to be noble. Trying to want what you wanted even when it felt like a knife in my chest." His hand cupped my face, thumb brushing across my cheek. "But I can't pretend anymore. The thought of you carrying another man's child, even a donor's, makes me physically ill."
The possessiveness in his voice angered me a little, but it also awakened something deep and primitive in my own chest. "Lucian—"
"How can you plan to get pregnant with donor sperm when you're here with me, when we're like this together?" His eyes searched my face desperately. "You lie under me moaning my name. Why do you want someone else to father your child?"
I had no words for him. His question stopped me in my tracks like a deer in headlights because he was right.
When we were together, when he was inside me and I was lost in the connection between us, the idea of clinical insemination felt cold and mechanical. I wanted his hands on my body, his voice in my ear.
And though the thought hadn't occurred to me before, suddenly, it sparked a hunger in my chest.
I did want his baby inside me, and maybe that was why his cold dismissal a month ago was even more painful.
"If you're going to get pregnant," he said, his voice dropping to a whisper, "you'll do it the right way. With me."
The statement was arrogant and presumptuous and completely outside the bounds of our complicated arrangement.
It was also exactly what some desperate part of me had been longing to hear, even as my rational mind recoiled from the implications.
"I need you to leave," I said, pulling away from him despite every instinct screaming at me to stay close.
He sat up, confusion and hurt flickering across his features. "Tessa—"
"Please. I need to think, and I can't do that with you here."
My heart felt like it was having a seizure.
The amount of adrenaline suddenly pumping into my body was unhealthy.
I felt nauseous and lightheaded, angry and terrified. And at the same time, I wanted to thrust myself into his arms and say yes.
But how? And why? And what would Blake and Elena say?
He dressed slowly and he never looked at me once while he was doing it.
I felt horrible and justified in the same breath, but confusion won out. I couldn't just cower and do what he wanted. I had to do what was right for me, even if it meant upsetting him.
Before he walked away, he leaned over me, resting one hand on either side of me on the back of the couch.
"This isn't over," he said, pressing a kiss to my forehead that felt more like a promise than a goodbye.
"I know you need time to think, but I don't. I've been thinking about it every single day since I saw that page open on your laptop on the plane.
I want to do this for you, Tessa. Don't say no to me. "
I let my head drop and he got the message. Before the door had even shut, tears were welling up in my eyes.
I felt like I was on a roller coaster ride from Hell. We were on fire, then we were crashing and burning.
Then we were nothing, and now he wanted me to have his baby? To say I was confused was an understatement.