His Every Touch (Den of Sin)

by Blue, Mel

  Table of Contents

  HIS EVERY TOUCH

  Copyright

  BLURB

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  BIO

  Other Titles by Melissa Blue

  KILTED FOR PLEASURE EXCERPT

  BEFORE YOU GO…

  HIS EVERY TOUCH

  A Den of Sin Novella

  By Mel Blue

  Copyright

  His Every Touch

  Copyright 2015 Melissa Blue

  All Rights Reserved.

  His Every Touch is a work of complete fiction. All characters appearing in this work are fictional or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  WARNING: this story contains adult situations including sex and strong language. It is not intended for consumption by minors (age of majority as specified by your territory of residence).

  BLURB

  Courtney Michaels wants to be the best paralegal in the biz, and working under Lucian Beaudelaire is her ticket. A highly sought-after attorney, Lucian is ruthless and relentless, in the office as well as the courtroom. He’s just the man to help Courtney’s career remain on the rise—if she can keep her less-than-professional thoughts about him in check.

  Lucian would allow only one thing to interrupt a case—family. When his uncle is placed in a medically induced coma, Lucian heads home to New Orleans, with Courtney in tow. He’ll depend on her skills to keep the casework going while he deals with his dysfunctional family, even if sharing neighboring hotel rooms with her is Lucien’s personal idea of torture.

  When familial stress becomes too much to bear, Lucian finds release in Courtney’s arms. And that’s exactly where he intends to stay…until they’re back home, and Courtney requests a transfer, convinced they can no longer work together.

  But Lucian is a master at arguing his case. It’s time to show his paralegal exactly how ruthless and relentless he can be.

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  CHAPTER ONE

  Courtney Michaels half-walked, half-jogged behind her boss as they wove their way through his family’s hotel.

  “Do you have it?” Lucian Beaudelaire’s Louisianan accent was the only thing softening the sharp edges of his command.

  “It’s downloading,” Courtney easily lied, tapping the link on her phone as though that would help.

  She was vaguely aware of her surroundings as people milled around the hotel lobby. The outside had, maybe, some antebellum-like features. The air smelled fresh from the cut grass and flowers, only a hit of swamp. From that she could assume gardens were a part of the overall scenery.

  All of them were faint impressions because her focus stayed on her phone and the backs of Lucian’s shoes. She thought he’d told her it was his former family home. They had renovated, taken the land around it and turned the home into a five star hotel. Humbled beginnings, yada, yada, yada. All so very warm and fuzzy, but the former plantation currently had two bars of Wi-Fi.

  Courtney would give her kidney for four. She hadn’t always been that way, but after a year of working for Lucian her bargains with the universe had gotten a little…desperate. He wanted most things five minutes ago or yesterday—no in-between. And after three hundred and sixty-five days she’d learned to get it done or murder him—no in-between.

  She could take wearing orange flip-flops for the rest of her life, but going to prison only to be someone else’s bitch was where she drew the line.

  Lucian stalked five feet ahead of her, and she let his back in her peripheral vision be her guide as they climbed some steps. She couldn’t take her attention away from her phone. They reached the top of the stairs and then four bars popped up. Before she lost the signal, she sent the interrogatories to his phone.

  “Finally,” he said. “Don’t let this happen again.”

  The words planted Courtney’s feet on the steps. Normally she’d have taken the recrimination in stride, but she’d slept four hours in the past twenty-four. Those precious little hours were spent in a plane seat, after taking a No-Doze that clearly hadn’t worked.

  The lawsuit they were keying up to defend had them on edge for weeks, and then Lucian had practically dropped everything to come to New Orleans for a family emergency. His uncle was in a coma. Being the head cheese’s paralegal meant she had to come along.

  Heat rushed to her face as anger crawled up her throat. Spotty Wi-Fi, lack of sleep and dealing with a demanding, surly asshole had pushed her to the very edge of her patience and grit.

  She curled her hand around the phone. Throwing the electronic at the back of his head or the wall would only pacify her for about 2.5 seconds. One second to revel. One second to preen. That .5 of feeling both emotions. Then Courtney would remember she loved her job, needed it.

  When he wasn’t being a demanding dickhole, she actually liked him. Sometimes when she dared to be honest with herself, Courtney could think of a whole litany of words that started with “l” similar to lust, lick and longing when it came to her feelings for him. Thankfully for the past few weeks he had been a full-on dickhole, leaving her no time or patience to be honest with herself.

  Lucian must have noticed she’d stopped, because he halted his decisive stride and faced her. His brown eyes held a hint of irritation. The stubble and sharp contours of his face only added to his sophisticated, yet, formidable facade. His three-piece suit made him look like one of those CEO sharks instead of an employment law attorney. All of that six-foot-arrogant-testosterone-laced attention focused on her.

  Breathe. Just breathe.

  That she could do as her heart galloped, putting a shaky tremor in her fingers and stomach. One of those other “l” words started to rise up her throat and made it tight. Courtney forced herself to remember this was the man who had once sent her to his favorite Starbucks, halfway across town—three times. They had screwed up his order. Courtney hadn’t gone back to school to become a paralegal to make coffee runs. He didn’t care.

  She owed him though. Swallowing down her temper, and any other wayward emotion, she inhaled to help dispel the momentary loss of inner control.

  “What is it?” he asked, lowering his voice.

  Whenever Lucian did that he sounded one step away from calling her “sugar.” Or some other form of endearment that would punch holes in her resolve. She broke eye contact to lessen the brunt of his concerned stare.

  “Nothing,” she said, her voice taut. “You’re going to be late to the meeting.”

  “Not a meeting,” he corrected and still didn’t move.

  Silence fell between them. With anyone else it could have been awkward, though no less tense. With them it felt like they stood at an edge neither were willing to jump from. Sometimes she let her imagination play out what happened after the fall.

  Usually when Courtney did, she lay in her bed, alone. Her fingers would explore her aching nipples. Before she could rein in those thoughts, her fingertips would be brushing along her clit. Soon after that Courtney would cry out his name.

  And that was why she lied to herself as often as possible.

  It’s why she looked anywhere but his gaze as they stood in a long hallway filled with family portraits and antiques. She kind of expected Scarlett O’Hara to hit a corner instead of a half-naked couple dressed for a luau.

  Strange. Her mind strayed far from the dangerous ground. She asked, “This hotel does theme nights?�
�

  The tension holding him taut seemed to loosen with the question. “Something like that. Don’t worry. We’re not staying here.”

  She relaxed her hold on the phone. The moment had passed and as always she’d act like it never happened. “Your family owns a hotel and we’re not staying in it?”

  “No.” He turned on his heel, headed down the hallway again. “I need you to go back through the emails and find the exact date our client received his second dismissal notice.”

  Subject closed. Back to work. She sighed, relieved, and forced her concentration to her smartphone. Courtney kept his broad shoulders in her line of sight. They went through a door. She found the paper in the file with all the other OCR documents for the case. A small smile tugged at her lips. Sometimes his fetch requests could take hours to complete.

  Just as she pressed Send she collided into his back, knocking her phone out of her hands and her right into him. To keep herself from tripping over her own feet, she grabbed hold to the first thing to help steady herself.

  He had a really firm ass. She may have noted after the collision. But she was still lying to herself. She’d tripped on air and he’d helped in his own way.

  She cleared her throat, dropping her hands away from him. “Sorry,” she whispered.

  Courtney started to bend over to pick up her phone when she caught sight of the man behind the desk. She thought Lucian had an intense stare, but the way the man cataloged her features, her stance, her—stilled Courtney’s limbs.

  The darkness lurking there in his eyes finally shook her ability to move. She stepped back. He ran a hand through his glossy black hair and then flicked his dark gaze to her boss.

  “I see you came.” His deep timbre sounded familiar—sexy, gruff, just a hint of a Southern drawl.

  Oh. Oh. This was the family who ran the hotel. She searched her mind for the name. Months ago she’d been forced to send him a Christmas card and a gift. The man stood from behind the desk, buttoning the black suit jacket. The way the material fell on his sleek form probably meant the hotel business did quite well.

  Lucian remained silent, but the tension bristling off him made the hairs on her arms prickle. She’d seen him angry before but never like this. This emotion didn’t run hot; it ran ice cold.

  The man stopped in front of them and then bent down to pick up her phone.

  “Thank you—” Courtney broke off since she didn’t know what to call him.

  He smiled with all his teeth as though he scented prey. “I’m Henri Beaudelaire, Lucian’s oldest brother.”

  She actually felt her eyes widen. “Nice…to meet you.”

  Lucian snatched the phone from his brother’s hand and offered it to her without bothering to throw a glance in her direction. “Is there somewhere quiet she can go to work, near the office?”

  The last part of his statement seemed to hold a heavy emphasis. She took her phone. Their fingers brushed. Her stomach jumped at the brief connection. Lucian didn’t even flinch at the touch.

  Henri’s dark stare slid to her and stayed for an uncomfortably long second before he said, “Right down the hall, the first door on the left is my general manager’s office. Seraphina will be happy to lend you any space you might need to work.”

  Just like that she was dismissed. The men held each other’s gaze again. The intensity kind of made her want to leave anyway. But she had questions, lots of them. Not one would be answered because Lucian was her boss, something she never let herself forget whenever her hormones or curiosity seemed to lose hold to that fact.

  “Is there anything else you need from me, Mr. Beaudelaire?” she asked.

  Lucian tore his attention away from his brother to meet her stare. A heat she’d never seen before flared in his eyes and then it was gone. “No, Courtney. That’ll be all for now.”

  Her stomach flipped at his raspy tone. There was no point in reading more into that second, that very short second, where he had stared at her with heat. With longing. The only smart thing to do was leave. So she did.

  *****

  The effort it took to not follow Courtney put a strain on Lucian’s muscles. That intensity refused to ebb even after he heard his brother’s office door close. The room still smelled of Courtney’s sweet, almost edible scent.

  The honeysuckle that always hung from the Beaudelaire’s balconies should have canceled out her fragrance, but no. Then again, for the past year all he could smell was her, no matter where he was. It was driving him fucking insane.

  And now he knew what her hands would feel like gripping his ass. Didn’t take much for his mind to leap to her nails digging into his flesh as he pounded his dick into her. If he’d been alone, Lucian might have let his imagination run its course, but he wasn’t.

  Henri’s gaze was too observant. His brother shook his head. “So how long have you wanted to fuck your paralegal?”

  “I don’t.” The words pushed out through his gritted teeth.

  But of course his brother would see through the lie to the attraction. That’s how Henri made a good portion of his living. It’s why they’d been at odds for the past five years. His brother’s side business with the Den of Sin, practically turning their family hotel to a free-for-all orgy, happened several times during the year.

  Yes, it was a tradition for Beaudelaire men to run the Den, but that didn’t mean it should continue. Though the event hadn’t started with their ailing uncle, Sebastian, it had become quite popular with him.

  If women were catcalled on the streets, what did they have to deal with in a hotel that encouraged the exchange of sex with strangers? Hostile work environment, anyone? His brother’s employees were likely exposed to that every Den event. It was a miracle nothing horrible had happened yet.

  His parents didn’t see the flaw in a sex-based legacy for their oldest son—they were too wrapped up in their own lives. His uncle didn’t see the problem in handing over that baton to a nephew.

  There left Lucian, swinging out in the wind, seeing the potential for conflicts of interest and worst-case scenarios. Pointing out the potential clusterfuck, apparently, made him a dick.

  “Let’s not talk about work,” Henri said, probably sensing the old argument brewing in the silence. His brother moved to the French doors separating the office from the balcony and stood on it. “Have you seen Uncle Sebastian?”

  Despite how Lucian felt about his family’s side business, they were still family. “Not yet. What’s his prognosis?”

  “Not good but hopeful. For now.” His brother leaned against the balcony’s railing, looking out on the massive grounds. A line of tension left his back stiff.

  Lucian ran a hand through his hair and strolled toward the desk. “And this new cousin we supposedly have?”

  Henri shrugged. “Our sisters played with Noelle when they were little. We treated her like one of ours. She could be lying. Uncle can’t exactly confirm or deny the truth right now.”

  Unease settled into his bones. Henri always knew—everything. It was something Lucian both depended on and hated. Being the youngest brother it always made Lucian feel inadequate. Normally he would have dug in the knowledge that Henri was just as clueless about this situation as Lucian, but the exhaustion he’d been beating back for hours decided to sink its teeth into him.

  He strolled over to the office chair in front of the desk and sat down. “Is she asking for money?”

  “So far, no. She wants to be by her father’s side. She’s there now.”

  Maybe working as an attorney for most of his adult life made him pessimistic, but he couldn’t buy a family friend suddenly being family. “And I bet she’s introduced herself to the entire staff as his daughter. I’ll look into it before this gets worse. I have people on my staff who can dig into Simone Jones’ history.”

  “And if she’s not his?”

  “Sebastian has money and he’s on a deathbed. That brings out all kinds. We can demand blood tests for proof. When it’s proven false, she’l
l go away.”

  “And if it’s not?” Henri asked.

  “Depends on what his will says or doesn’t say.” He scoffed at the irony. “She can get this hotel.”

  “Wouldn’t you love that?” Henri’s tone turned bitter.

  Lucian balled his fist. “I want what’s best for you, and to me that’s closing the Den. You’re not running an adult toy store or a porn company. This is a hotel. Guests are supposed to stay and then leave. What they do behind closed doors is their business. When you run a Den event you cross too many damn lines.”

  There was a long silence before his brother replied, “Are you saying this out loud as a reminder so you don’t try and fuck your paralegal?”

  Lucian put his elbows on his knees and his face in his hands. And that’s kind of why he hated his brother. If the situation involved sex, Henri could suss out the complications and secrets. Someone, anyone could know your every normal or kinky desire with a glance. It was both unsettling and irritating. And that someone was his brother.

  Henri laughed. His voice felt closer than it had been a few seconds ago and then Henri slapped his shoulder as his brother passed him. “It’s a luau in Beaudelaire’s Big Easy. That’s our theme this week. You might want to rethink staying here, though I’d prefer you didn’t. The thought of any of my siblings having sex…”

  Despite the tension in his shoulders and in the room, Lucian chuckled. “Do any of your employees even know you have siblings?”

  Henri groaned and ran a hand through his hair. “They do now. You fuckers have descended like locusts.” He sent a glare in Lucian’s direction. “But drop by the gift shop. They have anal plugs. Great on the prostate and for loosening those really uptight guests.”

  “Fuck you, Henri,” he said, but this time his words had less heat.

  Courtney was wound tight.

  Lucian made sure of it. Though there were times when he pushed her too far and he could see the promise of murder in her brown-eyed gaze. Then, he usually backed off, like he had done on the staircase. He wanted her to hate him more than any other emotion. But he couldn’t let her quit him. It was a balance, a fine one he’d walked for the past year, because Courtney soft and sweet was too much of a temptation. If he slipped and fucked her, he’d be no better than some of the people he litigated.