by BETH KERY
“Lucien, I just wanted your advice on how to get started. You don’t have to offer me all of this.”
“I know that.” He took a step toward her, his gaze narrowing. “If you don’t like the idea of having your restaurant here, just say the word. We’ll find the right location for you.”
“No, it’s not that!” she exclaimed, once again staring around her in disbelief. “I’ve never seen premises more ideal in my life. But . . . this was your project. I don’t want to horn in on it.”
“You’re not,” he said simply. “I told you. I really liked your concept. If anything, I’m the one horning in on your good idea.”
She swallowed thickly. “You really thought it was good?”
“I’ve said it several times, haven’t I?” he asked, a slow smile spreading across his mouth.
She stepped toward him hastily and threw her arms around his waist. When she lifted her face, he leaned down, his grin widening when she kissed his jaw and lips fervently.
“Does this mean your answer is yes?” he asked, his laughter deep and rich.
“No. I want to talk about it more,” she mumbled, plucking at his mouth with her lips. “This is because you believed in me.”
His smile faded. He cradled her jaw with his hand. “I’ve always believed in you,” he said. “I just wanted you to believe in yourself. When you expressed your idea to me, when you told me what you wanted, I knew that you were starting to do just that.”
Her heart seemed to swell to two times its normal size, making it difficult for her to speak. She was glad when he lowered his head and kissed her with barely restrained passion, making speech an utter impossibility.
* * *
Lucien took her to lunch at his club, where they talked almost nonstop about the exciting possibilities for the restaurant and hotel. He had thought things out carefully, laying out several potential plans for a partnership and assuring her she could choose whichever one she wanted and change her mind at any time. In essence, he was giving her carte blanche to be anything from a full, invested business partner to merely a well-paid employee with fifty percent of the right to make decisions. When she dryly pointed out to him that all the odds were in her favor for the venture, he merely shrugged unconcernedly.
“It’s such a good idea, I would have risked more to be a part of it,” he said levelly. Despite his assurance, Elise couldn’t help but feel that he was doing this as a very special favor to her . . . giving her the priceless gift not only of the unique, excellent location and opportunity, but of his vast experience. No other entrepreneur would ever offer her a tenth of what Lucien proposed. His belief in her was like a charm stored safe away in her heart, a talisman that was forever within her reach.
His belief in her had magically segued into a belief in herself.
After a light lunch, they rode on the grounds, Elise enjoying the physical activity and glorying in spending exclusive time with the man with whom she’d fallen in love.
It seemed pointless at this juncture to keep denying it.
They dismounted at a wooded lake and tethered the horses. She sat next to Lucien on a nearly horizontal branch of a low-lying oak tree, leaning back against his strong thigh. He put his arm around her, opening his hand below her waist, and they stared out at the peaceful surface of the mirrored lake.
“Lucien?” she asked after a moment. “Have you spoken to your father at all since he’s been in prison?”
“No,” he replied, moving his chin idly in her hair.
“Are you angry with him? For what he did?”
“Yes. Not as much as I used to be, but still . . .” He paused and kissed the top of her head. “He took advantage of a lot of people because of his own greed. The company that he stole the industrial patents from was publicly owned. His actions could have potentially driven the stock down to nothing. Thousands of people would have lost their investment savings and jobs.”
She sighed, sensing his bitterness over the blind depravity of his adopted father’s greed. “And then he embroiled you in it all,” she murmured. “The police questioned you. He was sent to prison, leaving you his tainted empire. No wonder you never wanted to touch any of it.”
His hand moved below her belly, stroking her, creating a heavy, pleasant feeling at her core. “I’m going to have to stop running from his legacy, no matter how tainted it is. It’s my responsibility.”
She turned to gaze into his sober face. “You’re going to accept your inheritance?”
“Not the money, no. But I can’t keep ignoring the responsibilities my father left me. I would be no better than him if I kept ignoring all the people that rely on the businesses my father created.”
“The embezzled funds at the Three Kings made that clear to you, didn’t it?”
He nodded.
“Do you . . . do you plan to return to Europe?” she asked. Her pulse had begun to throb at her throat and a sick feeling swept through her stomach.
“No,” he said, sunlight reflecting in his eyes as he studied her. “I can manage things from here as well as anywhere. But I will have to dig in for the short run and make sure I hire people I trust in Europe. It will require more travel than I’ve been doing as of late.”
She nodded, relief sweeping through her at hearing he had no immediate plans of leaving permanently. His gaze sharpened on her and he cradled her jaw.
“Did you think I was planning on leaving you?” he asked.
“No, of course not,” she said too quickly. When he raised his eyebrows in a sardonic gesture, she blushed and lowered her head, a feeling of shame seeping into her awareness. He lifted her chin, forcing her to meet his stare.
“Why are you always convinced you will be rejected?”
His words cut to the quick. She twisted her chin out of his gentle grasp and stared blindly at the still lake, unwanted tears filling her eyes. What could she say without sounding melodramatic and foolish? Because every time I feel close to someone, they end up leaving me? Because no matter how hard I tried to please the people in my life, they would rather I wasn’t around?
Never. She’d never say those stupid, weak things.
She couldn’t stop a tear from spilling down her cheek, however. Lucien leaned down and caught it with his lips. He made a rough soothing sound. Suddenly, his arms were around her, and he was lifting . . . urging her onto his thighs. He turned her, so that they were face-to-face, and her legs straddled his hips and fell over the tree branch. His arms closed around her until her breasts were crushed against his chest. He held her there, heartbeat to heartbeat, his hand massaging her back in that deft, knowing manner.
Elise pressed her chin between his shoulder and neck, shielding herself. She cried silent tears, warmed by dappled sunlight, filled by Lucien’s embrace.
“Because your parents didn’t prize you doesn’t mean that you’re not a precious, priceless jewel,” he said gruffly near her ear minutes later. “It only means that you have to learn to prize yourself. And you are, ma fifille. Aren’t you?”
She swallowed thickly and inhaled for courage. She leaned back and let him see her damp cheeks.
“I am,” she whispered.
His eyes glinted between narrowed lids as he looked upon the gaping weaknesses and uncertainties she’d run from her entire life . . .
. . . and she’d never felt so whole.
She kissed his mouth softly, and he plucked at her parted lips with his own. For several golden, sunlit moments she melted in the cocoon of Lucien’s acceptance. Her flesh grew torpid, her sex damp. She felt him harden against her and knew he shared in her arousal. But it was more than just a sexual embrace.
It was so much more.
She wasn’t sure how long they remained like that, but eventually Lucien cradled her face with both hands and waited for her to open her eye
lids sluggishly.
“Come on. Let’s head back to the city. I’m going to take you for dinner. Where would the chef like to go? Everest? Savaur’s? Tru?” he asked, referring to some of the finest restaurants in the city, all with world-renowned chefs.
She leaned her forehead against his and stroked his back. “To be honest, I wish I could go to Fusion. I’ve never been there to dine.”
He chuckled appreciatively. “We’re closed on Sundays.”
“I could cook for you,” she murmured languidly near his mouth.
“Absolutely not. You’re not working tonight. I want you focused on one thing: pleasure,” he said gruffly before he kissed her once, brisk and thorough. He stood and cupped her ass, letting her body slide against his hard length sensually before he set her boots on the ground. “But that gives me an idea.”
“What?”
“You’ll see soon enough,” was all he said as he led her toward the grazing horses and she stumbled after him, her mind still fuzzy from arousal and Lucien’s all-encompassing embrace.
* * *
When they returned to the penthouse, Lucien left her to attend to a few things in his office. She was so relaxed and content following the sunlit ride on Kesara that she took off her boots and curled on top of the made bed, almost immediately falling asleep.
She awoke to the sensation of Lucien’s lips skimming along her hairline and the sound of running water in the distance.
“Wake up, beauty,” he murmured, the sound of his rough, low voice in her ear making her shiver with pleasure. “We have dinner reservations to make.”
She blinked her eyelids open sleepily and brought him into focus, her gaze glued to the sexy shape of his firm, curving lips.
“How long did I sleep?” she asked, disoriented.
“Two hours,” he said, his white teeth flashing in his shadowed face. “You needed it, no doubt. After you kept me up all night,” he added, pulling on her hand until she rose alongside him.
“After you kept me up all night, you mean,” she muttered drowsily, letting him lead her to the bathroom.
“Your bath awaits,” he said with a flourish once they’d entered.
She purred in satisfaction at the vision of the large Jacuzzi bubbling away on the center island, steam rising off the surface.
“Will you get in with me?” she asked huskily when Lucien turned her and began to unbutton her blouse.
“That’s the plan,” he replied, slipping her blouse over her shoulders.
Once they were both naked and submerged in the bubbling water, Lucien leaned against the side of the tub and pulled her into his arms, her back against the front of his body. She moaned softly as he began to run his hands over her, caressing and massaging, his touch decadent in the midst of the hot water.
“You could make a woman into a slave with those hands, Lucien Sauvage,” she mumbled, her head resting on his chest, her eyelids fluttering closed in sensual pleasure. She sensed his smile near her cheek.
“I can’t see you being a slave to any man. Could you?”
She went still, the back of her neck prickling.
“Perhaps,” she breathed. “What if I wanted to experiment with the idea once in a while, at my discretion . . . with you?”
“That would be your decision. But after you consented to this enslavement, your freedom of choice would end for an agreed upon span of time. You would be at my mercy until the period ended.”
She inhaled sharply when he began finessing her nipples with his thumb and forefinger and she felt his already semi-erect cock stiffen into full readiness along the crack of her ass and her lower back.
“How long would this span of time last?” she asked, stifling a moan when he cupped her breasts from below and squeezed them gently at the same moment he tweaked her nipples.
“Hypothetically?” he asked right next to her ear, his rich voice causing a shiver to run down her neck.
“Yes.”
“Well, for an example, if you agreed to be my slave tonight, it would last until I had my full pleasure of you or until morning came . . . whichever comes first.”
A thrill went through her. She bit her lip and pressed down subtly on his erection, shifting her hips. “And you could do anything to me that you wanted during that time period?” she whispered.
“Of course. And you would have to accept it. It would require a great deal of trust on your part to allow it,” he said, opening his large hand over her belly and stroking her, his hand looking dark and masculine against the pale expanse. He pinched an aching nipple, the sharp sensation a contrast to his languorous caresses on her belly.
“I do trust you that much,” she declared heatedly. She twisted around and met his stare. “I do. I will be your slave . . . for tonight,” she added with small smile, shyness unexpectedly crashing into her at the realization of what she’d just said.
“You will do whatever I command?” he clarified, gray eyes gleaming.
“Yes.”
He studied her closely. “You could truly submit to that degree? You would have to do everything that I insisted you do. You would have to make my pleasure your highest priority, knowing that it would please me if you followed my demands without question. This is what you agree to for the night?”
“I agree to it,” she said without hesitation.
He looked amused . . . and aroused by her daring.
“Then wash me, little slave.”
She moved away from him momentarily, turning off the whirlpool. She wanted to be able to look down into the clear, still water and see his body perfectly. Her smile was supposed to be seductive as she turned to face him and reached for the soap and a washcloth, but when Lucien’s eyebrows went up amusedly, she suspected she’d looked more mischievous than anything. She put her knees on either side of his hips, kneeling and lathering up her hands before placing them on his chest. She relished the opportunity to touch all that lean, hard muscle and smooth skin without restraint. He said nothing while she cleaned him, but she felt his gaze on her, watching her every movement. The sound of the water trickling from the washcloth onto his skin and back into the water struck her as highly sensual. Elise couldn’t help noticing that his cock was becoming stiffer and more swollen with every pass of her lathered hand and the cloth.
Excitement raced in her blood. She would clean his belly and thighs, torturing him as he had tormented her last night, and then finally touch his cock. She had just slid her hand against his flat, ridged abdomen, however, when he reached up and grabbed her shoulders.
“Lucien,” she murmured, frowning at the thwarting of her mission when he firmly pulled her down against him, her knees bent as she knelt over him, her belly sliding against his delicious erection and hard torso. He shifted, so that she lay against him, her belly and breasts in the water while her ass and pelvis were above the surface.
“Give me that,” he demanded softly, reaching for the soap in her hand.
“But I was washing you,” she protested a moment later when he lathered up her back with large, soapy hands.
“I’m clean enough,” he murmured. He firmed his hold on her waist and slid her higher up his body, her legs straddling him and her face just inches from his. So she was looking directly into his eyes when he matter-of-factly slid a finger between her ass cheeks.
“Lucien?” she whimpered when he touched her anus with the tip of his finger, rubbing against the sensitive area firmly.
“Hush,” he soothed before he penetrated her with the warm, slippery finger. Her mouth fell open and she gasped against his lips and the foreign invasion. Beneath her, she felt his cock lurch next to her skin.
“It feels . . . odd,” she whispered dazedly. “Do you have to do that?”
A small laugh fell past his lips. “Yes. I suppose I do,” he replied
as he began to slide his finger in and out of her asshole. It felt shamefully good having him touch her so intimately while he watched her every reaction so closely. Her cheeks flamed with a strange mixture of embarrassment and arousal.
“And I suppose I have to let you,” she said. “Because I’m your slave for the night?”
“That’s correct.”
He used his other hand to push her face down to him. He kissed her for several minutes passionately while they lay in the hot water and he continued to thrust his finger in and out of her. It felt almost unbearably intimate to her . . . untenably exciting. By the time he sealed their kiss she was panting softly and her sex was aching and ready.
“Finish washing up and get out of the tub,” Lucien said next to her mouth. She moaned softly when he withdrew his finger from her ass. She began moving her hands over his slick body hungrily, but he caught her wrists. “Do as I say,” he said, his voice soft but with an edge to it that matched the hard glint in his eyes.
She washed cursorily and left the tub, reaching for a towel. She watched in the large vanity mirror behind her as Lucien, too, finished washing and rose from the water like a gleaming, rippling god.
“I’ll finish up in my dressing room,” he told her a moment later as he stood next to her, the vision of him with the white towel draped low across his hips distracting her. “Don’t get dressed yet.”
“Why not?” Elise asked, forcing herself to look away and tucking the towel between her breasts.