Knight and Stay

by Kitty French

  He'd done it again. Blindsided her with his contradictions: one minute the lustful Viking and the next her romantic hero. He kissed her until she couldn't think straight, until her arms wound around him of their own accord, until all thoughts of anything but how very much she wanted him left her head.

  And then he stopped and retreated to his own chair.

  "I believe it's my turn to ask a question," he said.

  She swallowed, already mourning the loss of his touch.

  "Tell me your wildest sexual fantasy."

  Fuck. Before Lucien, her wildest fantasy had been sex that lasted more than ten minutes and guaranteed that she'd get to her own orgasm before Dan climaxed and rolled over.

  And since Lucien, the idea of fantasies seemed absurd because he was one great big living fantasy, and he made her think and do things that were all well above and beyond any that her sheltered imagination could conjure up.

  "Honestly?" she said, embarrassed. "I don't have any."

  Lucien looked incredulous. "Everyone has fantasies, princess."

  Sophie shook her head. "Our lives are very different, Lucien."

  "Meaning?"

  "Meaning that before I met you my life revolved around the weekly shop, the TV guide and scrubbing the bath. I was someone's wife, someone who expected dinner on the table and clean clothes in his wardrobe. I typed building extension reports for a lecherous boss whose wife I picked out Christmas presents for. Any fantasies I had mainly involved someone else cooking my dinner and no alarm going off in the morning."

  Whoa. Where did all of that come from? And how wildly inappropriate, given her state of undress.

  "And you have to ask me why I'm anti-marriage?" Lucien arched his eyebrow.

  Sophie huffed softly. She'd walked right into that one.

  "Anyway, that's my truthful answer."

  He shook his head, probably shocked by her provincial dullness.

  "We need to work on that, Ms. Black. Come on over here so I can take off your bra."

  "You haven't won the round yet."

  He rolled his eyes and then dealt out two cards, turning first hers and then his own, scowling at her delighted laugh. Tequila was the best drink in the world. Even though she was sitting there in next to nothing, she was able to draw competitive joy from winning.

  "You lose, Mr. Knight."

  He rolled his shoulders with a decidedly bored look on his face. "I’m going to make this really easy."

  He stood and unfastened his trousers, sliding them off along with everything else except for his black Calvin Cleins.

  Dear God. If he ever wanted to try his hand at male modelling, agencies would be fighting in the streets for him. One shot of him like this and women would queue to buy anything he was selling.

  He sat back down and looked at her expectantly.

  "Now will you come over here?"

  "You can't take off my bra unless I lose."

  "Get over here."

  "But I haven't asked my question yet."

  "Sophie..." Lucien's voice dropped to a warning growl, far too sexy to resist, and Sophie made her way over to him and let him tug her down sideways into his lap.

  He was warm and solid beneath her curves and his erection pressed pleasurably against her bottom as she curled up and made herself comfortable.

  Lucien ran a finger beneath one of Sophie's bra straps. "It's almost a shame to take this off." He eased one strap down and then the other. "I like it." His hands moved around her body to open the clasp, and Sophie suddenly didn’t care in the least about fair play. Having him peel off her underwear was screamingly sexy.

  They both looked down as he cupped her breasts in his hands, circling her nipples with the pads of his thumbs.

  "I'm ready for your question now." He looked up into her eyes, no doubt fully aware that there was very little chance that she'd be able to string a coherent sentence together at that moment. She cast around in her lust-addled mind, badly wanting to prove him wrong.

  "Why don't you have any pets?" she squeaked, then immediately groaned. Where in Gods name had that thought come from, and why, how had it left her mouth? She pressed on regardless. "You know... a dog, or a cat... or a goldfish, maybe?"

  He rolled her nipples between his thumbs and forefingers.

  "Do I look like the sort of man who has time for pets, Sophie?"

  She didn't answer, pink-cheeked and more than aware of the weirdness of trying to conduct a conversation about domestic animals whilst sitting on his raging erection.

  "I had a dog when I was a kid. A husky."

  His quietly spoken words changed the mood abruptly. In her mind’s eye Sophie could clearly see the small blond haired child running across pristine arctic snow, his silvery, wolfish companion barrelling along beside him. It was a joyful image, yet the feeling that accompanied it somehow wasn't, and Lucien's face told her that his memories weren't happy ones either.

  She touched his cheek and tilted her head up to his, and he unreservedly accepted the distraction. His tongue slipped into her mouth and kicked up the heat from tender to crazy hot; hungry, open mouthed kisses as his arms locked vice-like around her frame and held her captive. Sophie could feel the swell of him hardening.

  "Let me fuck you now?" His fingers moved between her legs, stroking her through thin silk. "Let me fuck you now."

  Sophie could hear the need in his voice as much as the want, and it melted her more than ever. She stood and stepped quickly out of her underwear. As he did the same she paused for a second's thought, then added an extra cushion to the seat for height, before sitting down on the deep armchair and spreading her thighs.

  "Sit here." She patted the velvet seat-pad between her legs, and he looked quizzical for a moment. "Please?"

  Lucien didn't question her, and she was grateful. She wanted to give back to him, to soothe him, to take back her question that had raised unwelcome memories.

  He settled back against her with a sigh. The additional cushion had raised her bottom enough for the line of her shoulders to be higher than his, and he massaged her ankles when she wrapped her legs around him.

  Sophie revelled in the width of his chest, letting her fingers linger on the tightness of his nipple until he sighed, caught somewhere between relaxed and turned on as he rested his head back against her shoulder.

  "Feels good, princess," he murmured, his hips already rocking a little in anticipation of her hands moving lower.

  Sophie touched her mouth to his ear. "Maybe this is my sexual fantasy," she said, letting her hands enjoy him. "A Viking sex god at my disposal."

  "Would you like me to dress in fur and drag you by the hair?" he murmured, and Sophie kissed the corner of the lazy smile that touched his lips. The idea wasn't anywhere near as much of a turn off as it probably should have been.

  She shifted a little to one side of him to give herself easier access to his cock with one hand, brushing her fingers along his thigh, making him wait.

  "Show me how you like it," she whispered finally, her teeth on his neck as she curved her hand around his erection. "Show me."

  He groaned with appreciation, a guttural sound low in his throat as his hand closed over hers on his shaft and started to move.

  "Like this?" she asked, not that she needed to. His pleasure was clear from his shallow breathing and his chewed lip.

  His grip was firm around hers, firmer than she might have been singlehandedly, and all the more erotic for it. She watched his face; the low frown of concentration over his closed eyes, the way his lips parted as his hand pumped hers, steady strokes, finding his rhythm. His chest rose and fell sharply, the staccato drumbeat of his heart clear beneath her palm.

  "Lucien..." she breathed his name, encouragement to take what he needed. He was close; his shallow gasps of pleasure and tight, jerky hand motions told her so.

  His cock glistened between their sliding hands, impossibly rigid and straining.

  "Fuck, Sophie...Sophie..." Lucien gasped. "D
on't stop..."

  He let his hand fall away, trusting her to finish what they'd started.

  Over the last few months Lucien had given Sophie so many erotic memories, but this one, holding him completely surrendered in her arms, topped them all. He yelled out her name as he came in strong, frantic bursts, his body juddering with pleasure, his face a study of almost pained effort. Watching him come undone was so deeply intimate, and every jerk of his body slammed him back between her spread legs. She was open and unbelievably aroused when he turned his face to hers.

  "I guess I won the game," he said, a little hoarsely, moving in to kiss her lips, making a slow and thorough exploration of her mouth. Sophie's fingers moved in the slickness on his abdomen.

  "I don't know. It was a pretty good result for me too," she said.

  "Hmm." Lucien moved a little to slide his arm behind him into the warm space between their bodies. His sure fingers sought her clitoris as his tongue licked over hers, concentrated little flicks on her already fevered flesh. Sophie's body burned for him, still wrapped around his torso as he slipped two fingers inside her.

  "So fucking sexy..." he whispered. "Here, Sophie?" He massaged in fast little circles.

  Sophie opened her legs even wider and dropped her forehead against his shoulder blade. Yes, there. Yes, more. Yes, always. The familiar, unstoppable tingle of her orgasm started beneath his fingers, making her gasp and rub herself against him.

  "I've got you, princess. I've got you."

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Lucien tipped his face up into the powerful spray of the hot shower, eyes closed, his mind on the girl asleep a few feet away in the bedroom. He was thinking hard. Solutions to problems in life and in business usually came effortlessly to him, but this one was proving intractable. They were going back to London the following evening, back to normality. How the hell was he going to play it?

  He didn't want to go back to being Mr. Knight, Sophie's boss. He wanted her to keep calling him by his first name, and to keep kissing him, and to keep letting him bury himself inside her.

  He rolled his shoulders, the memory of Sophie's hands on his cock as he washed his body. Christ, just thinking about her had him hard. How could someone so delicate and soft hold him as completely as she had on that armchair? Cradled in her warm smooth limbs, Lucien had found something he had no name for. Plenty of women had got him off in the past with their pretty mouths and experienced fingers. But with Sophie... it wasn't just physical.

  They were colleagues, but this wasn't professional compatibility.

  They were friends, of sorts, but this wasn't just friendship.

  She'd had him on the ropes out there earlier. Her hand under his, her pleasure drawn from his pleasure, giving without taking back. She was good, and generous, and wholesome. And she confused the hell out of him. Since when had he been attracted to wholesome?

  Theirs was a closeness that went way beyond physical proximity.

  She was under his skin.

  Moving closer to his heart.

  He just didn't know it yet, because no one else had ever found the pathway in before.

  Lucien eased the Aston Martin to a stop outside Sophie's small house and turned off the engine so as not to wake the neighbours.

  Their final day in Paris had been mercifully busy with meetings, calls and negotiations, facilitated by Sophie, who proved her worth anew as a resourceful PA as they raced to meet deadlines and finalise paperwork. Even their flight home had been dominated by the presence of the Carmichaels who were bound for meetings in London.

  Finally still and alone in the car, they'd lapsed into pensive silence. Sophie broke it first, staring fixedly out of the window at her own front door.

  "So what happens now?"

  Her expression was as heavy as the clouds outside. Lucien didn't need her to elaborate on her question, because he'd been expecting it.

  "We carry on as usual."

  She paused for a beat. "You mean 'what happens in Paris stays in Paris', and all that?"

  No. He'd dropped her here on this doorstep after their trip to Norway and let her walk away. He wasn't doing that again.

  "It's not where we are in the world that matters, Sophie. We've had sex in London too, remember? In my club. In my house." He glanced towards Sophie's home. "In yours too, if you want."

  She shook her head, her face turned away from him. Look at me.

  "I'm not done with you yet," he said. "There’s a whole lot more still out there for us, if we want it. Are you done with me?"

  Still she didn't speak, and still she didn't look at him. He wasn't sure he wasn't screwing this up, or if the words coming out of his mouth reflected the thoughts going on inside his head, but the truth was that he didn't have any better words. He had nothing to offer Sophie in terms of promises or commitment, and there weren't cutesy tags to apply to this thing happening between them.

  Friends with benefits? The euphemism made his lip curl.

  They were lovers, except without the love.

  It was about sex. Amazing, fantastic, not-ready-to-walk-away-from-it-yet sex. A coming together. Quite literally.

  "Just come to work on Monday, Sophie. No running, okay?'

  Finally, she looked at him, her big blue eyes shadowed by the lateness of the hour.

  "I'll be there."

  Relief flooded his body when she reached out her hand and placed it on his chest.

  He covered it briefly with his own, and then drew her into him.

  Sophie's lips opened for his, an invitation to linger, and to savour. Lucien sighed with pleasure as he moulded her curves to his body, as far as possible in the confined space of the car.

  "Are you sure you don't want me to come in?" he muttered against her mouth. She tasted delicious, and he wanted to keep her in his mouth and his hands. Every time he touched her she did this, made him crave more of the feeling that her nearness gave him.

  She eased her head back from his. "Not tonight, okay?"

  He sighed and pushed a hand through his hair as frustration spiked him. Then he laughed softly and shook his head. Sophie fucking Black. She had him acting like an over-eager teen dropping his date home from the prom.

  "You've got the count of three to get out of my car. Any more, and I'll have you on your front lawn."

  "That would give the neighbours something to talk about." The lightness of Sophie's tone was reassuring. She'd be there on Monday, and that was enough for now.

  "One," he growled.

  A flicker of amusement kinked her lips, and a second later she leaned in and kissed him briefly, lingering just enough for her tongue to touch his.

  "Goodnight, Lucien."

  He swallowed hard. "Two."

  Sophie reached out and stroked a hand down his face. "Thank you for Paris. I loved it."

  He ought to say 'three' and wake up her neighbours for her impudence, but the tenderness of her words and her hands wiped the word from his lips. He pressed a kiss against her palm.

  "Goodnight princess."

  He watched her in, and shook his head as she turned on the doorstep and blew him a kiss.

  "Three," he murmured to himself, regretfully, then turned the engine over.

  Inside the house, Sophie leaned against the door and listened to the sound of Lucien leaving, belatedly realising that she'd left her case in the back of the Aston.

  She placed her fingers against her lips, closing her eyes and smiling as she remembered his kiss there.

  Beyond tired now that she was alone, Sophie checked the answerphone more out of habit than necessity. No flashing red light. No messages. Dan was moving on, just as she was.

  She locked the door and contemplated a late night cup of tea, but the lure of bed won over. She couldn't have asked Lucien in here tonight, and not just because this was her marital home. He'd exhausted her. She needed to sleep.

  Unbuttoning her blouse as she moved upstairs, she paused by the bathroom door and tried to work up the energy to shower
as she stepped out of her clothes. It was no good. She was dead on her feet, and her comfortable duvet was too close to resist. She didn't need lights to guide her in the familiar bedroom, and sank between the sheets with a bone weary sigh.

  Then she froze.

  There was a man in her bed.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  He reached for her naked body, and for the briefest of disorientated seconds, Sophie wondered how Lucien could suddenly be here in her bed.

  But the chest under her hands was a little less broad, and the hands skimming down her back a little smoother. Achingly familiar, and yet all very, very wrong.

  "Hey Soph."

  She sat up, hauling the quilt over her body as she slammed the lamp on.

  "What the hell are you doing here?"

  Dan sat up too, facing her in what had been their bed. He'd obviously been asleep; his hair had that messed up way about it that she used to find endearing. Looking at him now with fresh eyes, Sophie saw less perfection than she used to see. But then she was measuring him up against an unfair opponent in Lucien. There weren't many men who would come off better in that particular comparison.

  "I've come home."

  "What?" She screwed her eyes up and scrubbed at them. Was she hallucinating with tiredness? Was she asleep and dreaming?

  "I didn't think this was home to you anymore," she managed.

  He looked reproachful. "I never wanted to leave in the first place. I left because you told me to."

  "It was your doing. You wanted me at home and Maria away. How inconvenient for you that I found out." She couldn’t suppress the shake in her voice, whether from hurt or anger or surprise.

  "Yeah, well you're hardly snow white in all this, are you?" Dan’s tone was defensive.

  Sophie sighed heavily and reached for her robe off the end of the bed. She didn't have the stomach or the heart for this fight. Dan was right, in part. Her affair with Lucien – yes, there was no gilding it, it was an affair - could not be explained away or justified by his infidelity.