When I'm With You: The Complete Novel

by BETH KERY

  The reality of what had occurred struck him like a blow: where they were, what had just happened. It wasn’t what he’d planned. Not in the slightest.

  He slid his overly sensitive cock out of Elise’s warmth, wincing in regret.

  “Come here,” he said quietly, his hands on her shoulders. He helped her to her feet. His fingertips caressed the smooth, dewy skin of her cheeks. He felt her heat and knew she was aroused. Again, regret flicked through him.

  “I don’t think they’ve noticed us missing yet,” he said, hastily refastening his pants.

  “Lucien—”

  “Later,” he said, his voice tense with unspoken words. The ringing silence was a remonstrance. She deserved more than that. He stepped toward her and took her into his arms. She felt small and warm and very feminine pressed against him. He kissed her, once on each warm cheek, then on her nectar-sweet mouth. His musk lingered on her tongue, the unique combination of their flavors compelling . . . drawing him deeper.

  “You gave me great pleasure,” he murmured honestly a moment later.

  “I’m glad.”

  He paused for a moment, his mouth open, undone by her sweet, simple reply. His head lowered to kiss her deeper, and damn the circumstances.

  In the distance, he heard a door close and froze. He found her hand and enclosed it in his own before he reached for the door.

  “I’ll take you to the bathroom so you can freshen up. Give it several minutes, then go back up to the terrace and rejoin the party until we can make a graceful exit.”

  The muted light from the hallway allowed him to see her golden beauty flushed with arousal . . . her puffy, reddened lips. A muttered curse blistered his tongue. Her dark blue eyes looked huge and glazed with desire. She looked stunning, radiating pure sex appeal. There would be those at the party who’d put two and two together and know she’d been sucking cock with that beautiful mouth.

  * * *

  “I’ll bring some ice to the bathroom,” Lucien muttered quietly, firming his hold on her hand and leading her down the hallway.

  “Why?” she asked dazedly. Her brain was foggy. Bringing Lucien pleasure had left her lust-drunk. She wanted to do it again. She wanted to climb all over him. Right now. He opened a door and she distantly realized it led to a powder room.

  She stilled when he touched her lips. “Because some bastard has been abusing your gorgeous mouth, that’s why. The ice will bring down the swelling a bit.”

  She shivered at his touch and sexy tone. “Ten lashes to the perpetrator.”

  “Twenty to the victim,” he countered quickly.

  Her brows shot up in curiosity and interest. His gaze grew fierce.

  He started to walk away, but she grabbed his hand. She purred with pleasure a moment later when she pulled him down to her, and he covered her mouth with his, his rough moan a blessing.

  Yes. She had him now.

  “Forget the ice,” she whispered seductively next to his lips a moment later. “Let’s go to your place.”

  His gaze ran over her face. She felt his body stir and triumph soared through her. “It is what I plan, Elise. But later. I should try and smooth things over with Ian and Francesca, and we need to say our good-byes.”

  “Francesca and Ian are grown-ups. They know these things can happen. We’ll apologize tomorrow.”

  “Just give it a few minutes. We’ll go soon.”

  She arched her back and pressed her mons against his belly. “No, now.”

  His nostrils flared as he stared down at her. She felt his body respond. Her heart dipped when he blinked and looked away. She sensed the spell was broken.

  “My rules, Elise. Be patient,” he said gruffly, kissing her cheek with lingering lips and leaving her arms.

  “Do not walk away from me again, Lucien,” she warned. God, she didn’t think she could stand making herself vulnerable to him yet again and having him turn his back on her. Didn’t he realize how much she desired him? Didn’t he know now that Elise Martin had finally found the man to whom she was willing to risk it all sexually, he was supposed to fall in line and behave precisely as she imagined he should? Yes, that sounded selfish, but damn it. Was it really that much of a stretch to think he would be as impetuous and bowled over by lust as she was? Why was Lucien always so contradictory?

  “I’m not walking away from you for good. This isn’t easy for me, either. Don’t be so melodramatic, Elise.”

  She stiffened. Is that what he thought? That her eagerness for him was silly? Hysterical? Childlike? Hurt gripped at her entire body.

  “Elise—,” she heard him say.

  But he was talking to a closed door.

  * * *

  Fifteen minutes later, Lucien stood next to Ian and Francesca at the terrace bar, careful to keep his gaze from wandering toward the entrance to the penthouse. No one had made a big deal about his and Elise’s earlier absence, either having not noticed or being too polite to comment about it. Ian likely had observed, but knowing his friend, he assumed it related to sexual games that were none of his business versus being something to remark upon.

  No great obvious harm had occurred with his hosts, but why was Elise taking so long in returning? He was starting to get worried. He hadn’t meant to hurt her. If he’d been able to resist her in the seductive embrace of secretive darkness, this would never have happened.

  Someone had altered the music selection to a more mellow pop mix. The dancing had ceased. Things felt flat with Elise missing. She’d always been the effervescence to a social gathering, the spice. The flickering flame. Perhaps her spoiled mother had noticed that from a young age, and started requesting her only daughter be excluded from dinner parties and other gatherings, Lucien mused. Madeline Martin did not enjoy competition.

  He, Ian, and Francesca remained in comfortable silence, Francesca in the curve of Ian’s arm, Lucien leaning against the bar. When Ian glanced up and noticed Lucien studying his face for signs of how he was reacting to that phone call earlier, Lucien casually took a sip of his drink. As usual, Ian kept his emotions well hidden. He wanted to ask if everything was all right, but resisted. He couldn’t tip his hand.

  He watched as both Caden and Justin again glanced toward the stairwell that led to the penthouse, their disappointed expressions informing him better than anything that Elise was nowhere to be seen.

  “Elise is Louis Martin’s daughter, isn’t she?”

  Lucien remained outwardly calm, even though his heart began thundering at Ian’s unexpected question. It shouldn’t have surprised him that Ian knew precisely who Elise was. Ian made it his business to know anything that concerned him, even remotely.

  “Yes, Martin’s only child,” Lucien replied evenly.

  “His heir,” Ian clarified, watching Lucien closely.

  Lucien nodded.

  Francesca shifted in Ian’s arms, perhaps noticing the sudden tension in the air.

  “I think I’ll go down and check on Elise,” Francesca said, indicating she’d been thinking along the same lines as him. Lucien nodded, relieved. Elise would be more likely to allow another woman into that locked bathroom if she was upset than she would him. He knew that much about women.

  In Francesca’s absence, Ian refrained from asking him more questions about Elise, seeming to guess that Lucien wasn’t inclined to gossip on the topic. Instead, they discussed the hotel Lucien was buying and his ideas for it. He straightened from his leaning position on the bar when Francesca returned five minutes later without Elise. He must not have been able to hide his worry, because Francesca spoke to him, not Ian.

  “Elise wasn’t feeling very well. I just put her in a cab.”

  “What was wrong with her?” Lucien demanded.

  “She said she felt a little sick to her stomach, that’s all,” Francesca assured, he
r gaze on him.

  “But you didn’t believe her?” Lucien asked.

  “I didn’t disbelieve her, but . . . she did seem a bit upset,” Francesca said cautiously. Ian waited silently, watching him. Lucien set down his drink. Well, there was nothing for it now. Ian and Francesca, at least, both clearly knew he’d been dallying with Elise in the penthouse earlier. He was uncertain what else they understood or speculated about Elise and him, but that much they knew.

  “I’d better go after her,” he said, buttoning his jacket. “Thank you for the evening, and again—congratulations. It gives me hope, seeing the two of you so happy,” he said, shaking Ian’s hand and giving Francesca a kiss. He left without bidding good-bye to the rest of the party. He didn’t want to put it in Justin’s or Caden’s head that Elise had left.

  He didn’t want either young man to track her down, because that’s precisely what he planned to do.

  * * *

  Elise warily left her room at the Cedar Home Extended Stay Hotel and locked her door behind her before she hurried silently down the long, dim hallway. Her ears were acutely pitched for the sound of the door of Room 16 opening, but the nuisance that was Baden Johnson remained absent.

  She didn’t breathe a sigh of relief until she hit the landing on the staircase. The elevator in the rundown hotel had been broken ever since she’d moved in. She flew out the door of the stairwell into the dark night.

  Unfortunately, her father and mother had high hopes about her returning to Paris and conveniently marrying Erik Cebir, Swiss heir to the Cebir pharmaceutical fortune. When she’d continually refused to go along with their plans, her father had cut off all her credit cards. Her first and only paycheck from Fusion wouldn’t come until next Tuesday, so she was barely scraping by. Consequently, when she hadn’t had sufficient cash to pay the cab, she’d been screwed. The surly driver had been impervious to her charm, insisting she must go upstairs and get the money or he’d put in a call to the police.

  “Here,” she said, shoving her hand through the window of the driver’s side.

  “What’s this crap?”

  Irritation bubbled up in her. “It’s a watch,” she said fiercely. “It’ll cover the cost of the cab ride. About a hundred times over,” she added under her breath. It’d been one of the least valuable things she’d had in her jewelry box, given to her by her least favorite aunt who was renowned for regifting.

  The cab driver first gave her then the shabby hotel a skeptical glance and handed back the watch. “No thanks. I’ll take the twelve bucks, plus tip.”

  “That’s a Cartier, you idiot!”

  “Right. Prince Charles himself has probably got one, but I ain’t him. I want my money.”

  “But you don’t understand! You could take that to any pawnbroker and—”

  “What’s going on here?” a deep voice interrupted. She swallowed convulsively when she recognized the steel-gray hair and the large, hulking form coalesce from the shadows. Shit. Baden Johnson had clearly once been a very strong man, but he was going to seed in middle age. That didn’t mean he didn’t carry the vestiges of massive, brute power, however.

  “You her friend?” the cabdriver called through the opened window single-mindedly. “Your girlie owes me twelve bucks plus tip.”

  Elise backed away several steps as Baden approached. “What’s this?” Baden asked, reaching for the watch.

  She snatched her hand back, but too late. The platinum watch flashed between Baden’s thick fingers. He held it up, examining it in the dim light. His gaze narrowed on her speculatively. She glanced up and down the dark street, but not another soul was in sight.

  “It’s . . . it’s nothing, just a cheap knockoff. I’ll just . . . I’ll run back inside and get the cash,” she prevaricated, longing for the relative safety of her locked room.

  “Don’t worry about it,” Baden said, reaching into his pocket. He started to count off some crumpled, greasy-looking bills. “I’ll get your fare. I’m interested in seeing more of these cheap knockoffs.”

  “No, please—”

  “Hey now,” he said, his teeth gleaming in the dim light, reminding her of dirty fangs. She’d discovered Baden was fond of what they called in the States chew. “I know you’re good for it. You’ll find a way to pay me back, right? I can think of a dozen or two things right off the top of my head,” he said, his downward gaze over her body feeling like he’d smeared greasy slime on her skin.

  Her thoughts started to come a mile a minute.

  “Yes, of course. Thank you, Baden,” she said. When he looked away, she turned and ran.

  She couldn’t think of what else to do. At least Baden was in the middle of finding the bills for payment. It would give her a few seconds to try to race to her room and lock herself in—better than waiting until he was unoccupied, the cabdriver had gone, and they were alone on the dark, deserted street together.

  “Hey . . . hold up you little—”

  But Elise didn’t pause. She reached the door to the stairwell, lunging to open it. Before she ducked into the musty interior, she glanced over her shoulder and yelped in alarm.

  Big Baden was stalking rapidly toward her, just twenty feet away. He looked furious, not to mention determined.

  She hurled herself up the stairs, cursing the fact that she hadn’t yet removed her strappy high-heeled sandals. Through the pounding of her heart in her eardrums, she heard the metal door slam shut and the sound of Baden’s heavy boots hitting the first stairs.

  “Slow down, French girl. I’m thinking you’re keeping some secrets from your neighbors. That’s not too friendly, is it? Time you learned how to be a little nicer, seeing as you’re a stranger in this country,” he crooned, his quiet voice sending a shiver through her as it echoed in the empty, dark stairwell. Why had she ever exchanged a single word with him? She should have just avoided him, like any sane woman, instead of trying to charm away the threat of him. She heard his banging boots several steps behind her when she hit the landing and her heart jumped into her throat.

  He was going to catch her.

  Dear God. Was this it? All those years she’d partied indiscriminately with fools and drunks and remained unscathed. Was she to be raped or beaten now, when she was finally trying to take control of her life? No. The thought was unbearable. She reacted instinctively when Baden caught her arm, wrenching it behind her. She spun around like a whirlwind and whacked him hard at the side of his head with her fist.

  “Brûle en enfer. Let go of me, you greasy bastard!”

  Her unexpected move and fierceness temporarily set them both off balance. After a brief struggle, however, Baden steadied himself.

  “You little slut,” he hissed between ragged breaths. When she saw his face, terror tore through her like a tidal wave. She’d obviously hurt him, and he was as furious as a kicked junkyard dog.

  “No—,” she protested when he grabbed her hair, but her voice was cut off when he jerked back her head, stretching her neck, making it so that she couldn’t see the threat of him. Her breath caught in her lungs as she instinctively braced for pain.

  A jolt went through her, but it wasn’t from Baden’s fist. She staggered and tripped on the stairs, abruptly free of the restraint of Baden’s hold. She glanced around in confusion at the guttural oomph of someone taking a fist deep in the gut. It was followed by the sickening sound of bone against bone. Baden sunk to his knees.

  “You fucking—”

  “Lucien,” she muttered, interrupting Baden’s curse, shocked and disoriented by his unmistakable tall shadow looming over both her and Baden.

  “I’m assuming you live in this godforsaken place?”

  “Yes,” she replied shakily.

  “Go to your room this instant and lock the door.”

  “But I—”

  “Do as I say, Eli
se,” he said with eerie calm when Baden started to struggle to his feet.

  She scurried up the stairs on her hands and knees before finding her balance to stand. As she flew through the door to the hallway, she heard again the unmistakable thud of a fist sinking into flesh, followed by a vicious grunt.

  * * *

  An hour and a half later, Elise closed the door behind the two police officers that had arrived after she’d called 911.

  “Lock it,” Lucien said quietly from behind her. Only he and she remained in her room. Between Baden being taken away, and the police asking questions, she’d been too distracted to be embarrassed. It hit her now, full force. A flood of shame went through her as she considered him observing her shabby lodging firsthand. She triple locked the door and slowly turned to face him.

  Baden was in police custody, although he’d been taken initially to Stroger Hospital for multiple contusions. Lucien, on the other hand, sported only a single cut over his right eyebrow. He wouldn’t allow the EMT to attend to the small wound, telling him to attend to Baden. Later, he’d allowed Elise to wash it and apply a small bandage, never speaking to her the whole time.

  In fact, Lucien had said very little to her in the past hour and a half, talking mostly to the police officers as he gave his report and listening intently while she gave hers.

  In a million years, she wouldn’t have guessed the evening would end this way. What if Baden had pulled a knife or gun on Lucien, and he’d died out there in that stairwell? She shuddered at the horrible thought. Now they were alone together, and Elise wasn’t sure what to say.

  “Are you all right?” she asked him, studying him closely where he leaned against a chipped dresser, looking calm, deadly, and downright gorgeous in his well-fitted pants and sports jacket. Somehow, the bandage above his right eyebrow appeared perfectly in sync with the rest of his appearance.

  “I’m fine. It’s you I’m concerned about.”

  “Like I told the officers, the worst I got was grabbed.”