His Every Touch (Den of Sin)

by Blue, Mel

  Backing up from the door, shame heated his face. He’d intruded on her personal space more than once tonight. How many more times would he before he got it into his thick skull she was off-limits?

  Tomorrow he’d have to face her and apologize, make things right again. Until then he undressed, collapsed into his bed while his cock throbbed. That was his punishment and it didn’t feel like it was enough.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Courtney rested her head against the connected hotel door, torn between being late for work or quitting. The night before kept playing on a loop in her mind. Lucian had touched her, sending a charge of sexual desire through her that refused to ebb even after she had masturbated. And he’d heard her moan his name.

  At some point she had to face him for either choice. She clasped the knob right as a knock came from the other side. A squeak escaped her before she could stop it.

  “Courtney?” His sexy Southern drawl reached through the barrier.

  Shit. Her hands began to shake, which didn’t help in trying to keep her composure. Dammit, she’d have to quit if this was how she’d continue to act just at the thought of seeing him.

  “Courtney?” Lucian asked again, but it said a lot he didn’t move to turn the knob.

  She schooled her face to remain emotionless and opened the door. Her heart banged against her rib cage as their eyes met. He didn’t look any different and that was the problem. Every sharp and rugged inch of him focused on her. The intensity made her want to squirm, not all of that would be from discomfort but to ease the ache in her pussy. It had been there for damn near a year and it wouldn’t go anywhere anytime soon.

  Breathe. Just breathe.

  “Good Morning, Mr. Beaudelaire.”

  His head snapped back in a tilt like her words were a slap. Unlike before, all the times before, the smolder remained in his eyes. How could it disappear though? She’d moaned his name and he knew it.

  “Last night…” he started, his voice raspy and low.

  Nope. Not doing that. “What do you need me to work on today?”

  His gaze narrowed before he placed a hand on the doorjamb, loitering in her space. He smelled of soap and his musky aftershave. Her stomach jumped.

  He tried again, “My behavior…”

  Still not doing that. “We have fifteen days to respond to the interrogatories. I can get you a draft by the end of today if I’m left alone.”

  He sighed. “If that’s what you need.”

  They weren’t talking about work. They both knew it. Apparently she’d made the choice to keep working for him so she faced the truth he kept trying to throw at her. “Do you know what I was doing before I worked for you?”

  “You were a law librarian.”

  She nodded. “What you didn’t know is that I started off as a regular librarian. I was punted off to the law section because they couldn’t afford someone with a Master’s degree. I worked in that section for years and I knew my stuff by the end of it. I went back to school to become a paralegal. That took two years and loans I couldn’t afford. By the time I came to you there was a lien on my house. Most people wanted five years of work experience, minimum, as a paralegal or even a legal secretary. You gave me a week to impress you. Unpaid. No one else even offered intern work.”

  His face was as blank as she hoped hers was. “You impressed me so I hired you.”

  Courtney didn’t have any doubt of that. Everyone who worked for Lucian deserved to be there. They knew he had no qualms firing someone who slacked off. He’d been known to tell people they could update their Facebook status in the unemployment line. He paid his employees well, had more than decent benefits and sick leave. And he inspired a fierce kind of loyalty.

  “You gave me a chance when no one else would,” she said. “I plan to be one of those battle-ax paralegals every attorney in a tri-state area knows and treats with the same respect they would another attorney. That is going to take at least another ten years.”

  She sucked in a breath, taking in his dark scent and ignoring the way it made her stomach tighten. “And I can’t get there if we’re too wrapped up in each other’s beds. We haven’t even done anything and already you’re being nice. You’re not demanding to know why I’m almost late for work.” She exhaled before adding, “So do you want me to work on the interrogatories?”

  His expression turned hard. “I came to the door last night to apologize. I will never step over that line again. No need for speeches, Ms. Michaels.”

  Maybe she should have let him talk. “Oh, good. Glad to hear that.”

  The darkness around his eyes lifted and he laughed. She balled her hands to keep from running her fingers over his laugh lines. Him laughing, smiling was a beautiful sight.

  He said, “You can get started on work, but not all day. Get out and see New Orleans, take a nap. In two days we have a conference call to see if we can get a settlement agreement ironed out.”

  She sighed. This is what she had wanted, them going back to being attorney and paralegal. Why did her stomach still feel tight? “Sure thing, boss.”

  *****

  From the hallway, Lucian could see into the hospital room. Someone had left the door open and the curtain back. Heat suddenly filled his chest. Henri had his head bowed, their uncle’s hand clasped in his. Tubes covered their Uncle Sebastian. He looked small and fragile.

  And Henri sat there quietly appearing as though he’d break if someone touched him. Lucian swallowed, because this had to be hard for his brother.

  Lucian’s mother was exactly the stereotype one would imagine of a second wife of a rich man. She was as loving as she could be, but her goal at a young age had been to marry and marry well. Their father—well, he prided business above all else and that included his children. They were possessions for the most part. Ones he could dote on when the mood hit him or put away when that mood came along too.

  Yes, they had big Thanksgivings and Christmases where everyone was home—all the past and present wives, everyone on the surface seemed happy. Yet two days out of three hundred and sixty-five days he had parents, family…there was just something wrong with that.

  And Henri was the oldest out of the living siblings. He had a head for business and hotel business at that. Whether it was by design or the simple fact of birth order, but Uncle Sebastian had taken Henri under his wing. He’d filled in the role of father figure.

  Maybe Lucian had been hoping too much for their own father to come around to have the same kind of relationship. But still, it was tough to see his uncle so fucking small and fragile.

  He pushed back his shoulders and entered the room. Henri glanced up, tilting his head in acknowledgment.

  Lucian asked, “Where’s Emilie and Sabine?”

  “On their way. Not sure when though. I’m surprised you made it here this early.”

  “I said I would.” Plus, one had to go to sleep to get up. The only thing that had helped get his mind off Courtney and her moans was to work. It’s why she could take a half-day. He’d done most of her workload in those quiet hours.

  Henri inspected his face and then chuckled. “I know that expression. How is Courtney?”

  “Don’t start.” He picked up the chart at the end of the bed. He had had enough disability cases to pick up the important jargon. “The brain swelling is down.”

  “Noelle is here. I sent her down to the cafeteria.”

  He glanced at their uncle and shook his head. “What is it about Beaudelaire men? We must fuck any and everything that breathes.”

  Henri gave a self-deprecating laugh. “More like we should never marry. That’s what gets us.”

  His brother’s marriage hadn’t been a happy one. His wife had died during childbirth to cap that off. “One of our ancestors probably slept with a voodoo priestess’ daughter and then left her.”

  “Shit,” Henri said, a smile breaking through his fierce expression. “Probably.” The smile faded. “I believe her.”

  “Who?”
>
  “Noelle.”

  Lucian walked to the window and sighed. His brother had learned to be tough, to put up that outer shell around himself because he was soft. “You’re a bleeding damn heart.”

  Henri snorted at the accusation. “That’s the last thing anyone would accuse me of.”

  “You believe her and I bet it was after one conversation.”

  “Two,” Henri corrected.

  Lucian scoffed and gave the other chair a passing thought. No way could he relax in here. The antiseptic scent was getting to him. “And that’s all it took.”

  Henri dropped their uncle’s hand and leaned back in the chair. “I’m not the one who always needs proof.”

  “Yeah, and I’ve never been married either. So which one of us is truly the smart one?”

  “Fuck you, Luc.”

  His shoulders tensed at the boyhood nickname. “Lucian,” he muttered the correction. “Now why do you believe her?”

  Henri shrugged. “Her mother is dying.”

  “A sob story?” He said with derision before taking out his phone and opened the email he’d received that morning. “Read this.”

  “What is it?”

  Lucian just tossed him the phone. Henri caught it with one hand and began to skim through the intensive background check Lucian had received on both Simone Jones and Noelle.

  “Who put this together?” his brother asked.

  “Someone in my investigative unit. She could probably work for the FBI and the CIA.”

  “Sounds like Seraphina,” Henri murmured, his brows knitted as he read.

  A timeline was written out for Simone Jones and Sebastian—when they had met, when a baby girl was born. Along with information about similar blood types, monthly payments etc, etc.

  Lucian said, “I won’t feel good about this until there’s a paternity test.”

  They both looked at their uncle. His stomach started to knot. Machines were breathing for him, keeping him alive at the moment until the swelling went down. If Sebastian had hit the car harder, an inch to the right this would be a very different kind of viewing. And what would his uncle say about his life? What regrets would he have?

  What regrets do I have?

  Lucian’s gaze went to his brother. That was one. When his brother’s wife had died, he’d been there. Maybe for the first time. It hadn’t mattered how many times Henri had told Lucian he was fine. There was just a too hollow look in his brother’s eyes. And then Henri had focused on the Den like an obsession, one their uncle had fanned into a flame. They had argued and neither man had backed down. They’d had a fractured relationship ever since. Their family wasn’t close to begin with and that didn’t help.

  Lucian tugged a hand through his hair, trying to shake off the unease. “I have people for tests, too.”

  His brother only shook his head. “But you talk about me being unscrupulous.”

  The day before Lucian could have stood on his track record, today he couldn’t. It’s why he had made sure to leave Courtney to her own devices because he sure as shit couldn’t trust his own, despite his promise. He prowled to the other side of the room, unable to shake the restless stir in his gut.

  “Don’t start,” he said, the threat clear in his low tone.

  Henri tossed back the phone. “Tell me more about this paralegal of yours.”

  Lucian stuffed the cell into his pocket, not liking the probing question. Courtney was off-limits, but only to him. He didn’t like the idea of her being with his brother either though. Or any man. The thought made him want to clench his teeth. “I don’t think she’d be into whips and ball gags.”

  Anger lit behind his brother’s gaze at the dig. They both knew Henri’s lifestyle was more than spankings and floggers. “Have you offered?”

  The image of Courtney bent over and tied up flashed through his mind. He grit his teeth. “Not my thing.”

  Henri tilted his head. “Maybe it’s hers.”

  With any sleep at all, Lucian could have ignore the baiting, let it just roll off him. But his brother wanted to choose now, as they stood in their uncle’s hospital room to prod at him. “I think you’re confusing her with your deceased wife. Or, wait. That probably explains a lot. Toni wasn’t too fond of the whip and gags either.”

  Henri was out of the chair before Lucian could blink. If he hadn’t braced himself for that reaction the fist would have connected with his face. He ducked but still his brother’s punch clipped his chin.

  Lucian put all his weight into landing a blow into Henri’s gut. The grunt of pain was so damn gratifying, Lucian pulled his arm back to do it again. Doubled-over, Henri didn’t give him a chance. His brother pushed him back into the wall. Lucian’s head smacked into the hard tile and he saw stars. This time he grunted and did his best to land another hit, but Henri was too close to get a good reach.

  “What the hell are you guys doing?” An unfamiliar female voice barked from the door.

  The sharp tone cut through the rage and both of them stilled. Lucian pushed Henri away. His heart raced at the shot of adrenaline pumping through him. The woman wore scrubs and her hands gripped the edge of her shirt. Her eyes were wide with anger and maybe a touch of fear.

  He put his hands up in surrender. “I’m leaving.”

  Henri smirked at him, his breath heaving out. “Tell Courtney I said ‘hi.’”

  Lucian stopped at the door. The nurse tensed beside him, likely bracing herself for another round of fighting. No good would come out of anything he did or said next. This was just his fucking family. They were never there for each other. They lived by a dog eat dog world motto. Sentiment was pushed to the wayside for old grudges and hurts.

  That should stop surprising him, stop digging into his gut but it didn’t. Lucian inhaled deeply, reined in his temper and left since there was no point in trying to mend those old broken fences.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Sweat dripped out of Courtney’s every pore as she dragged herself to her hotel door. She should have never listened to Lucian. Maybe he was used to a NOLA summer—which was sticky and hot—but she was use to California’s dry heat. One hundred and fifteen degrees she could take. Ninety-five degrees with eighty-percent humidity and she was ready to live under a cold shower.

  But that’s what she got for being nosy. Seraphina had given an open invitation to come back to the Beaudelaire whenever, and Courtney had taken up the woman’s offer. A grin spread as she looked at the goodie box plastered to her sweaty skin. She pushed it against the door and dug around in her bra for her hotel room’s keycard.

  Just as she vaguely noted the other presence in the hallway, Lucian was saying, “Let me help you with that.”

  He had the box before she could protest. He held her fucking goodie box—fucking in more than one sense. Nerves and embarrassment sent her heart off to the races. She could snatch it back and kind of make it obvious she didn’t want him anywhere near the box. Or she could smile and thank him.

  “Thanks.” She forced a smile to her face.

  All Courtney could do was open the door and continue her cool-as-a-fan act. The heat of New Orleans had only made his spicy scent more potent. “You can put it on the bed,” she pushed out between her dry lips.

  She had managed to forget last night while with Seraphina. Courtney would never describe the woman as warm, but the General Manager of the Beaudelaire had made her feel comfortable, welcomed. Nothing about her had been defensive, much less judgmental. So when Courtney had asked for something that could help “relieve stress,” Seraphina had made some calls and given her the proverbial brown paperbag filled with sex toys.

  And Lucian was holding it.

  She opened the closet by the door and threw her purse on top of her luggage case. When she faced him, he had a hand lingering over the top of the box. All he had to do was push down the flimsy cardboard to get a glimpse inside.

  So, yeah, that was all the cool she could fake. “Lucian, if you could excuse me.” She nee
ded him at least ten feet away from the bed and her goodies.

  He furrowed his brows while he inspected her face. She focused on his chin to avoid another moment where their gazes could catch. The details started to bleed in after her shift in focus. A blaze of red covered the right side of his jaw. Despite knowing better, she glanced up into his eyes. There was some dark emotion filling them. Lucian seemed to buzz with an edgy energy that reached out to her even with the space between them.

  She should have ignored his shift in demeanor but that reflex to deny, deny, deny what was right there in front of her was getting harder to do. “What happened at the hospital?”

  “My brother and I had a heart-to-heart today.” His soft laugh held no mirth.

  Shit. He had her send Christmas gifts to what should be immediate relatives. It came as no surprise they weren’t close. But violence? “He hit you?”

  “Love taps.” He waved off her concern. “What did you do with your day?”

  She’d debated if nipple clamps were her thing with a woman she’d met twenty-four hours before. “Nothing much. Took in the sights. I finished up the draft. It should be in your inbox.”

  Leave. For the love of God, leave. She forced another smile to her face.

  His gaze narrowed. “Are you okay?”

  It wasn’t until he asked the question that Courtney realized her arms and legs were trembling from standing so stiff. She hadn’t dared to take one step away from the door. Okay. So maybe it wasn’t just him being near the box. It was him that put her on edge.

  He now knew she called his name when coming. Yeah. It happened once for him, but it wasn’t the first time his face had floated up in her mind when she played with her pussy. Sometimes she’d swear his scent would permeate the air when she caressed her nipples in slow circles.

  Lucian could write it off—period. Or, even just use the excuse he’d touched her intimately and that was the only reason he’d become the star of her masturbation fantasy. Courtney knew better, but he stood near the bed, his chin red and lightly swollen, looking…dangerous and on edge.