Chapter 29 #2
Mary stood in the doorway; Rocco must have called ahead. When she saw me, her eyes instantly reddened.
"Leo's asleep," she said quietly. "I've been with him the whole time."
I nodded. Lucien carried me inside, set me gently on the sofa, knelt in front of me, and pulled the coat tighter around my shoulders. Then he stood and stepped back.
"Take a bath and get some sleep. Tomorrow morning I'll tell you how this ends."
He turned to leave. My heart clenched as if someone had seized it. My body moved faster than my mind.
"Lucien."
He stopped and looked back. I didn't answer. I stepped forward, grabbed the front of his shirt, rose on my toes, and kissed him.
The kiss tasted of desperation and need. My hands fisted in his shirt, pulling him closer, and for a heartbeat he stood frozen. Then something in him snapped.
His arms came around me hard, one hand sliding into my hair, the other splaying across my lower back. He kissed me like he was drowning and I was air itself. His tongue swept into my mouth, demanding, possessive, and I met him with equal hunger.
"Elora," he growled against my lips. "If we do this—"
"Shut up." I bit his lower lip. "Don't you dare stop."
He groaned, the sound vibrating through both our bodies. In one smooth motion, he lifted me, my legs wrapping around his waist as he carried me down the hall to my bedroom. The door slammed shut behind us. He set me on the bed, his hands already working the buttons of my blouse.
"Four years," he muttered, peeling the fabric off my shoulders. "Four goddamn years I've wanted this."
My breath hitched as his mouth found my collarbone, teeth grazing the sensitive skin. I tugged at his shirt, buttons popping as I yanked it open. My palms slid over the hard planes of his chest, feeling the thundering of his heart.
He unhooked my bra with practiced ease, tossing it aside. His gray eyes darkened as he looked at me, and then his mouth was on my breast, tongue circling my nipple. I arched into him with a gasp.
"Lucien—"
"Say it again." His hand slid up my thigh, fingers hooking into the waistband of my pants. "Say my name."
"Lucien." It came out breathy, needy.
He stripped off my remaining clothes, his gaze raking over me with such raw hunger that heat pooled low in my belly. Then his eyes caught on something and stopped.
The scar.
It ran across my lower abdomen, a pale line marking where they'd cut Leo out of me. Where I'd nearly bled out on that operating table, alone.
Lucien's jaw tightened. His fingers traced the scar with devastating gentleness, and then he bent down and pressed his lips to it. Once. Twice. Over and over, kissing every inch of that mark like it was something precious.
"You went through this alone." His voice cracked. "You should have had me there. I should have been there."
Tears pricked my eyes. "Lucien—"
"I'm sorry." He kissed the scar again. "God, Elora, I'm so fucking sorry."
I pulled him up, framing his face with my hands. "You're here now. That's what matters."
Something fierce blazed in his eyes. He kissed me again, slower this time but no less intense. His hands roamed my body, memorizing every curve, every scar, every inch of skin. I fumbled with his belt, finally getting it undone, and pushed his pants down.
He kicked them off, then settled between my thighs. The weight of him, the heat—it felt like coming home.
"Are you sure?" he asked, even as his hips pressed forward.
"Yes." I wrapped my legs around him tighter. "Yes."
He entered me slowly, inch by inch, watching my face the entire time. I could feel every breath he took, every tremor that ran through him as he held himself back. When he was fully seated, we both stilled.
"Fuck," he breathed. "You feel—"
I rolled my hips and his words cut off into a groan. He began to move, long deep strokes that had me clinging to his shoulders. Each thrust sent sparks shooting up my spine.
"Harder," I gasped.
His control snapped. He pulled nearly all the way out and slammed back in, making me cry out. Again. Again. The headboard hit the wall with each thrust, a steady rhythm that matched the pounding of my heart.
I scraped my nails down his back and he hissed, speeding up. The angle shifted and suddenly he was hitting that spot inside me that made my vision blur.
"There," I moaned. "Right there, don't stop—"
"Never." He drove into me relentlessly. "Never stopping. You're mine, Elora. Say it."
"Yours," I sobbed. The pleasure built and built, coiling tighter. "Lucien, I'm—"
I shattered. The orgasm crashed through me in waves, my body clenching around him. He groaned my name, his rhythm faltering, and then he was coming too, spilling inside me with a shudder.
We stayed locked together, both of us trembling. Slowly, carefully, he shifted us onto our sides, still joined. His arm draped over my waist, pulling me against his chest.
"Stay," I whispered.
His lips brushed my temple. "I'm not going anywhere."
"Promise."
"I promise." He kissed my shoulder, then the back of my neck. "Sleep, Elora. I've got you."
For the first time in four years, wrapped in his arms, I felt safe. Completely, utterly safe.
His breathing eventually evened out behind me. I closed my eyes, his warmth seeping into my bones, chasing away the cold terror of the night.
Whatever came tomorrow, we'd face it together.