by Kitty French
Lucien lost control as Sophie’s hips ground hard against his, as the frantic, erotic pulse of her orgasm around his cock had him coming with her. Water cascaded from their hot bodies as they stilled, and Lucien gently eased the acorn out of her splayed bottom. Sophie buried her face in his neck, exhausted, and for a few seconds, Lucien just held her warmth close against his and watched the light show overhead.
He wasn’t a man given to romance, but the perfect weight of this woman in his arms and the majesty of the skies above them filled him with an unexpected sense of peace.
Moments later he carried her through the quiet rooms of his home with her head on his shoulder, and by the time he lowered her down onto the bed, she was asleep, tear tracks still just visible on her cooling pink cheeks. When he brushed a blonde strand of hair out of her eyes she sighed and turned her face into his palm, looking for comfort in his touch even as she slept.
Long buried emotions forced their way to the surface as he curled around her and spooned her body into his.
Comfort, sweeter than he’d ever found from a woman’s touch.
Fear, spikier than he’d felt for anyone since the day his mother had died.
Anger, sharper than he’d sensed it since the last time he’d laid eyes on his father.
Bile rose in his throat at the thought of the man whose actions had driven his mother to her death.
How dare Sophie’s husband push her to this?
How could he put her at risk for the sake of a cheap thrill?
As Sophie’s husband and Lucien’s father meshed together in his mind, he tightened his hold around her pliant, sleeping form. The quilt settled soft and warm over their shoulders, and he fought to match his heartbeat to her slow, steady breathing pattern.
There was only one thought in his mind as sleep claimed him.
He would protect this woman.
He wouldn’t fail again.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Sophie opened her eyes in the half-light of early morning, disorientated by the unfamiliar bed linen and the unfamiliar man sleeping beside her. With one arm flung over his head and the other splayed out to the side, Lucien was utterly peaceful, quite the opposite of his wakeful state. She watched him for a while, trying not to let guilt and dread impinge on the tranquillity of the silent Norwegian dawn. It was something she was never likely to see again. After today, she’d never wake up next to Lucien Knight again.
Real life seemed a world away, but within twenty-four hours she’d be back in her own little house with her own big problems. She closed her eyes for a minute and breathed deeply, then opened them again slowly.
She was ready. Now fully awake and resolved to make the very best of the day, she slid out of bed and into the white towelling robe that hung on a hook on the back of the door, then headed downstairs in search of coffee.
Twenty minutes later, Lucien found her sitting on the deck with a fur blanket around her shoulders and a steaming mug of coffee cradled in her hands.
“You’re up early.” His breath crystallised in the cold morning air.
Sophie nodded and reached for the cafetière and extra mug she’d prepared for him. He looked lethally gorgeous in black lounge pants and nothing else, the tight buds of his nipples the only indication that he felt the chill on his sculpted body.
“Coffee?”
“Swim?” He inclined his head towards the still, glittering waters of the fjord.
“Are you kidding? It’s freezing out here.”
In answer, he dropped his lounge pants and stood naked on the deck.
“Do I look like I’m kidding?”
Sophie stared at him, dry mouthed with surprise and lust at the sight of him naked. His cock sprang to attention despite the temperature. She was fast learning that it always did.
She ran her tongue over her lips, and Lucien’s appreciative eyes flickered, assessing her reaction.
“Hold that thought, Ms. Black.”
He turned and strode out on the small jetty that butted into the water from the decking, giving Sophie the chance to admire his taut rear and the wolf lounging across his shoulder blades. Without hesitation or a backward glance, he executed a perfect dive and sliced into the icy waters of the fjord.
Sophie breathed in sharply as he surfaced and shook the water from his hair, droplets shimmering all around him in the pale morning sunlight.
Jesus, he was magnificent. She watched the water sluice over his muscles as he carved through it with long purposeful strokes that barely rippled the surface. When he climbed back onto the deck a few minutes later and strode towards her, Sophie was quivering in anticipation. She set her cup down, for fear of giving herself away with spilled coffee. Watching Lucien emerge from the lake deserved one hundred percent of her attention. Move over Mr. Darcy, there’s a new man in town.
“Coffee?” she croaked, repeating her earlier question, now unable to look away from his fast approaching washboard midriff.
In answer, he pushed the fur blanket away from her body, lifted her clean out of the chair, and threw her over his shoulder.
The shock of his unexpected move made her yelp and bang her fists on his back. No! Was he going to throw her in the water?
“Lucien, put me down! I can’t swim!” She wriggled ineffectively, and he paused to lift her robe and lightly smack her naked, exposed bottom.
“Behave. You’re not going in the fjord.”
Sophie stilled. “Where are we going then?”
Lucien’s fingers caressed where they had stung her a moment before.
“Back to bed. I want you for breakfast.”
After a second, more nutritionally though less sexually satisfying breakfast of scrambled eggs and smoked salmon, Lucien suggested that Sophie might like to go and choose some walking boots from the boot room by the entrance door.
She looked up, surprised.
“Are we going out?”
“You seemed captivated by the view outside earlier. I thought you might like to see it close up.”
He was right; she’d been thoroughly entranced by the view, especially when it involved a soaking wet, naked Viking. She wasn’t much given to hiking, but for him, she’d give it a go.
Lucien glanced at his watch and pushed his chair back.
“I have a couple of business calls to attend to first, though – I’m afraid they can’t wait.” He picked up his coffee cup and pushed back his seat. As he passed her chair he leaned down and kissed her full on the lips, unhurried and laden with desire. “Dress warm, Princess,” he murmured, and her heart softened at his solicitude.
“But don’t wear any knickers.”
“I can’t believe how beautiful it is out here.” Sophie turned her head and shaded her eyes to watch a bird of prey swoop down to catch something it had spotted in the undergrowth. They’d been walking for a little over half an hour, and already they seemed to be in a wilderness created just for them. Vibrant, autumnal russet reds and mustard golds covered the ground of the forest they walked alongside, and across the fjord the towering, grey-granite faces of the Alps donned jaunty white snow caps against the pale blue sky.
Back home in England, Sophie was accustomed to being hemmed in by the dense buildings and the bustle and traffic of city life, but out here she found she could really breathe. It was vast, and clean, and gloriously devoid of anyone but them. She snuggled her face into the soft, striped scarf she’d found in Lucien’s boot room, glad of its warmth against the chill in the air. Even under the wide, blue skies and pale, watery sunshine, there was no denying that the Arctic air held more than enough bite to turn cheeks pink and unprotected fingers cold.
She’d dressed carefully, hyper-aware of Lucien’s parting words as he’d left her after breakfast. She’d deliberated over whether to defy him and wear knickers, stepping in and out of them at least twice before making her final decision.
She’d settled on comfortable jeans with her favourite super-soft, slouchy, black sweater, then added a we
ll-padded red ski jacket and winter woollies from Lucien’s boot room. She’d left her hair loose and gone for minimal makeup - the barest flick of mascara and lip-gloss. This environment screamed out for naturalness, and Sophie willingly complied.
Lucien was similarly attired for the elements: he even managed to make winter-wear sexy. His faded jeans clung to his lean muscles and his black windproof jacket worked to highlight his golden skin and steel eyes.
He turned to look at her. “It’s this way.” He reached for her hand and led her into the forest, leaves and twigs crackling beneath the weight of their boots.
“Are we headed somewhere particular?” she asked, as they moved deeper into the canopy of the trees.
Lucien’s mouth crinkled at the edges. “Yes.”
“Is it a secret?”
“No.”
Sophie rolled her eyes. They appeared to be playing the yes and no game.
“Is this non-secret place much further?”
In answer, Lucien put his hand on the small of her back and propelled her forward. Sophie found herself emerging from the cover of the trees into a circular clearing. Sunshine slanted down onto the glass-like surface of the pool at its centre, but it was the spectacular waterfall that stole Sophie’s breath away. Crystal clear, it streamed down the craggy rock face that towered along the side of the clearing, its splash a musical backing track in the otherwise silent afternoon.
It was the mystical cascade from all the fairy stories she’d loved as a child; a magical, secret glade.
“If Hansel and Gretel came out of the woods right now, I wouldn’t be surprised,” she murmured, enchanted. Not that there was anything childish about the man beside her, nor about the sensations happening between Sophie’s legs, thanks to the friction of jeans worn without knickers.
“Nobody here but us, Princess.”
Sophie accepted Lucien’s outstretched hand as he led her to the water’s edge, so clear that she could see the stones on the bottom of the pool and the tiny fish darting close to the surface. She reached down and trailed her fingers in the ice-cold water.
“You’re not planning on skinny dipping again, are you?” she asked. “Because gorgeous as this is, there’s no way you’re getting me in there.”
“Relax. No swimming required.”
They walked around the clearing and came to a halt near the waterfall. Sophie watched it, mesmerised, but when she turned her face up to speak to Lucien, the expression on his face stole the words from her lips.
He was somewhere far away from her, and wherever his memories had taken him, it wasn’t a happy place.
She reached a tentative hand up to touch his cool cheek and found him as graven as the rock face behind him.
“You look miles away.”
His eyes were clouded with emotion when he refocused and looked down at her.
“No, I was right here, just on a different day.”
“This is a regular haunt of yours, then? Don’t tell me… this is where you bring all the girls?” Sophie wanted to blow away the shadows from his eyes, hoping he’d smile at her teasing.
“I haven’t been up here in almost twenty years.”
“A childhood hide-out, then?”
She saw the shutters roll down on his emotions, and a predatory light replaced the dullness in his eyes.
“Too many questions, Ms. Black.”
He backed her against the nearest tree and lowered his head, his kiss hot and heavy on her lips. His tongue plunged into her mouth and flipped the kiss from sensual to sexual, and his clever fingers unwound the scarf from her neck, freeing more skin for him to stroke and kiss.
Swept up in his sudden switch from contemplative to sexy, Sophie didn’t register anything unusual about the way he linked her hands together behind the tree trunk. It was only when she felt the knotted scarf tighten around her wrists that she realised what was happening.
He’d tied her to the tree. An instinctive tug revealed that she was well and truly bound.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
“Would now be a good time to tell you I used to be a boy scout?” Lucien asked.
Somehow, the idea didn’t ring true.
“Why have you tied me to a tree?” she demanded. He plucked the woollen hat from her head and unzipped her jacket.
“It’s a game.”
“A game?”
He nodded. “You’ll like it.” He lifted her hair so it fell behind her shoulders and kissed her exposed neck. “It’s called Let’s show Sophie how fucking beautiful she is.”
Sophie’s breath caught in her throat. “Lucien…”
He lifted her sweater and fresh, cold air hit her midriff, then he bent and kissed her navel and all she registered was heat.
He straightened and kissed her parted lips again, leaving her breathless.
“Your husband is cheating on you.”
Sophie frowned, blindsided by Lucien’s strange combination of serious conversational matter with sexual stimulation.
He moved her sweater higher to reveal her bra. His gaze scorched her skin even as the air cooled it. He reached out and covered her breasts with his hands.
“Shall I have him killed?” He pinched her nipples, already stiffened by cold air and desire. Sophie squirmed, but the soft scarf held fast.
“No!” She hoped he was joking. Was he? “Lucien, do we have to have this conversation while I’m tied to a tree?”
“Yes.” He pulled down the nude-coloured lace cups of her bra and exposed her nipples. “The stupid bastard doesn’t appreciate the fact that you have perfect tits.”
He lowered his head and sucked on first one nipple then the other. His hot mouth fastened hard over her, and the cold breeze on her lick-dampened flesh served only to heighten the incredible sensation.
When he popped the top button of her jeans, she gasped. “Lucien, don’t. What if someone walks by?”
He looked up at her from between her breasts.
“They probably won’t.”
“Probably isn’t good enough. Please … can’t we just …” The flustered words died on her lips when he stood and pressed his body firmly against hers and the cold material of his jacket crinkled against her skin.
“If anyone came by, which they won’t, they’d be fucking lucky to see you like this. Yet another thing your husband seems to take for granted.”
Even his fingers on the waistband of her jeans couldn’t take the sting out of his words about Dan, mostly because she knew he was right.
“It’s complicated, Lucien.”
“Why so?” His thumbs drew circles on her hipbones.
“Because…” she struggled to hang onto her train of thought. “You wouldn’t understand. He’s just not like you.”
She felt him exhale scornfully. “You mean he’s dull, short and wears fuck-awful suits?”
Inappropriate laughter bubbled in her throat. “No, he’s none of those things. He’s …”
Lucien’s fingers unpopped the last of her buttons, and the brush of his fingertips against her pubic bone rendered her speechless.
“He’s what, Sophie?” he whispered against her throat.
She shrugged, pained, and excited. “I don’t know… he’s bored… with me… I guess?”
Lucien swore under his breath and dragged her jeans down her hips.
“Don’t justify his fucking appalling behaviour by blaming yourself.”
Sophie looked down at him, shocked by the roughness in his voice and his hands, and ridiculously turned on by the lewd feeling of her jeans around her knees and the cold breeze between her legs. He leaned against her as he stood and cupped her bottom in his big, warm hands.
“Why do you think he fucks someone else when he should be fucking you?”
Sophie dragged cold air into her lungs, unable to breathe properly. Lucien’s words lay like acid on her heart, yet his fingers soothed away the pain of the burn.
“I guess I’m just not enough for him anymore,” she whisper
ed. It was the fear she’d kept hidden even from herself.
Lucien’s game was turning out to be one with high emotional stakes, and she was pretty sure it was a game she couldn’t win. She jolted as his fingers bit into the flesh of her bottom.
“Bullshit. Where’s your backbone?” He slid his arm between their bodies and touched between her legs. When his mouth covered hers, his breathing was as laboured as her own.
“I’ll tell you why he does it, Sophie,” Lucien whispered as his deft fingers found her clitoris. “He does it because he can. It’s no more complicated than that.”
His words were in her ears and her head, yet her mind was unable to process them over the sensations of his hand between her legs.
“Monogamy isn’t natural. Not for men, anyway.” He pushed two fingers deep inside her and her knees buckled. “For women, maybe, but not for men.”
He dragged his open mouth up the curve of her neck as his fingers worked between them. Sophie found she wasn’t bothered any more about the possibility of strangers discovering them in the clearing, because she so much wanted the orgasm Lucien was pushing her towards. Yet something in his words stopped her from giving herself over to it. He was wrong. After the week she’d just spent with him, she knew very well that women were every bit as capable of cheating as men.
“I never thought I’d cheat, yet here I am, tied to a tree by a… a… Norwegian sex mogul.” Jeez. Where had that come from?
“Sex mogul?” he muttered incredulously. He shot her a look, then shrugged. “I’ve been called worse.”
He dropped to his knees and pushed his face into her sex, making Sophie moan as he flicked his tongue over her clitoris. She wanted to open her thighs wider but her jeans held her in constraint. Something about the awkwardness served only to increase the sexiness of the act, and it certainly didn’t impede Lucien’s skill or concentration. He parted her lips with his fingers and buried his tongue inside her folds, sucking and fingering her swollen clitoris until her body started to shake with pleasure.