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A Love Song for Lucifer: An Enemies-to-Lovers Romance (Leading Ladies)

Page 9

by Willa Lively


  He hooks his thumbs into the waist of my leggings.

  “May I?”, he whispers while moving his dark eyes up to meet mine. Of course, leave it to him to be ridiculously sexy while having exemplary manners.

  I hesitate before I answer. I could stop this all, move to the bed and make him sleep on the floor and never discuss this again. I could keep my viewpoint of him singular and uncomplicated. He’s the bad guy and that would be all there is to it.

  Except it wouldn’t be true. It has never been that simple. If it were, then I would have stopped thinking about him the moment he left my apartment, and especially when I found out who he was. I’ve already crossed the line before this night. It’s too late for me to ever go back to a time when I didn’t burn for this man, with hatred and with lust.

  I keep my eyes locked with his and nod my head ‘yes’. I watch a smile dance across his eyes and his body relaxes slightly. I think a part of him was still expecting me to reject him, and it warms me to see he’s relieved I’m letting him do whatever the hell he is about to do.

  He begins to pull my leggings down and then gets on his knees to continue taking them off. He lingers there and takes my foot up to his shoulder, kneading deeply into it while letting his eyes wander across my body. My feet are sore from skiing and it feels great, but it also is a tease. I want more of him and I want it now.

  Finally, he releases my foot and moves his body back over mine. He slides his hand over my bare legs, past my hips, and up under my shirt. I move to help him take my shirt off. When it’s gone, he leans in to kiss me while he unhooks my bra and I wrestle to get his shirt off of him. I need his bare skin against mine. He sits up on his knees to finish the job and whips the shirt over his head. Finally, we’re both bare in front of each other, the fire dancing across our skin.

  “You’re so fucking beautiful, Mel,” his voice comes out low and hungry.

  His taut muscles flex as he runs his hands all the way from my cheeks, over my breasts, and past my hips to my thighs. He pushes my legs open with finality, as if I have no choice but to surrender to him. And I do gladly. He lowers himself onto his arms and adjusts his position to move his entire body down. I admire the lines of his arms and back muscles accentuated by the fire as he kisses my stomach gently, moving lower and lower.

  “What are you doing?” I ask breathlessly, even though I’m pretty sure I know exactly what he’s doing.

  “Making you feel good,” he says.

  I nod, a desperate surrender to him that, yes, I want him to make me feel good. I need him to.

  He listens.

  He brings thumb between my slit, moving it up and down slowly while keeping his eyes locked on me.

  I can feel the wildness in my face looking back at him. He smirks, clearly seeing it too, before burying that delicious grin into me, laying his tongue flat against me and circling my most sensitive bundle of nerves. I throw my head back at the pleasure of having this ache in me finally being attended to.

  He moves slowly and with purpose, magnifying every touch and letting me know he is in absolutely no hurry.

  He brings his hand to my chest and rolls my nipples between his forefinger and thumb while continuing to lick me at an agonizingly slow speed.

  Just when I think I’m going to explode from need, he brings his right hand down and slips two fingers inside me and starts pulsing. I moan at the sudden addition of pleasure and arch my back. I hear Lucien groan in response, apparently turned on by my reaction.

  He removes his hand from inside me to take both of my thighs and throws them over his shoulders, leaving my own slickness smeared on my thigh. He changes his tempo and begins to devour me with speed and aggression. When he finally slides his finger back inside of me, I lose my body to him.

  The burst of orgasm comes pulsing through me so intensely that I completely lose control. My legs are shaking around his head and hotness is pouring out of me.

  “Lucien!” I hear myself shout. He groans in response and the gravel of his voice, muffled by my own sex, sends another shock wave through my body. He is holding my hips up against his mouth while I spasm again, not letting me escape his tongue. My body is pushed to the absolute limit of pleasure and I twist more and more violently until everything gives out and I melt back down to the ground.

  Lucien kisses my stomach once more before moving next to me and gathering me up in his arms.

  “How do you feel?,” he says, rubbing his thumb back-and-forth right over my heart.

  “Mm,” I say, grinding my hips back into him. “I feel good.”

  I wake up to the cold on the tip of my nose that has started to make its way deeper into my bones. The cabin is cold. The fire has gone out while we are asleep, but Lucien is wrapped tightly around me. We eventually managed to get into bed together. His big arm is rested on my waist and his forearm trails up my stomach with his hand resting on my chest.

  I can’t believe the intimacy of this position. The man who I could barely look in the eye only yesterday has held me close to him all night, shared a bed with me, tasted me…

  And what I really don’t understand about all of it is… how it all feels so right? I was nervous I might wake up this morning regretting a temporary lapse of sanity, but I don’t. I almost wished that I did, because it would certainly make everything easier.

  Lucien, or Luc, as he insisted I call him last night after he insisted making someone scream in orgasm qualifies for a nickname basis, is still peacefully asleep.

  I wonder if he’ll regret things this morning in the light of day?

  He takes a deep breath, as if disturbed, and I quickly pretend I’m still asleep to cover the fact that I was just watching him sleeping.

  He gently lifts his arm off me.

  Crap. The bare, cold skin left without his arm feels like rejection. He clearly is regretting whatever this is.

  I sneak an eye barely open to see what is happening. He isn’t actually pulling away from me, but turning his watch to him to check the time.

  He drops his arm back on me and I shut my eye quickly right before I notice the warm press of his lips against my forehead.

  “Wake up, beautiful,” he whispers.

  I summon the shamelessness to bring my best acting skills and pretend to wake up confused.

  A part of me is terrified about how I look right now after one day in the freezing temperatures, a sauna, no face wash, and a rogue body lotion as my only skincare. Not to mention our dental care was limited to a travel size bottle of mouthwash split between the two of us.

  But then the other part of me, which I’m attempting to hype up, identifies myself as nothing other than an orgasm goddess. Lucien worshipped my body last night, expecting nothing in return. It not only was physically amazing, but his unbridled lust towards me made me feel incredibly sexy.

  So with that in mind, I open my eyes and do my best to keep that confidence going.

  “Mm, good morning,” I say with Oscar-worthy commitment.

  “I love waking up next to you,” he says, pulling my body in close to his.

  “You’re not so bad yourself,” I say and mean it. There is a dim blue light that barely lights up the cabin from the sun that won’t rise for another hour, but it’s enough for me to enjoy the view as I trail my eyes down from the scruff on his chin to his bare chest. This moment is too good to be true.

  “I’m only telling you this because you’ll be mad if I don’t. And I would rather say nothing and stay here all day, but, if we want to get a ride back to the hotel we have to ski back pretty soon.”

  And just like that, it’s confirmed that it is, in fact, too good to be true. The thought of putting skis on and going back out into the cold is the biggest buzzkill possible. Yet, I have to perform tonight, and this fantasy world with “Luc” instead of “Lucien” can’t last forever.

  So I get out of the bubble of our warm bed and into the cold air of the cabin to ready myself to face reality.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEENr />
  Lucien

  “What the hell happened?” Cole asks while looking between Melody and I. She is on the stage with the slightest smile directed at me while she sings. I’m, of course, smiling hugely like a damn idiot. I’ve decided this is one of my favorite places in the entire world to be, watching Melody in her element and alive with the rush of performing.

  “What do you mean?” I say, not taking my eyes away from the pink-haired phenom.

  “Well, Melody hasn’t sung one angry song at you, you aren’t scowling angrily taking shots, and unless I’m hallucinating, I think she’s even smiling at you.”

  I run my hand through my hair. I don’t want to jinx what this is. We woke up this morning to a freezing cabin and tightly wound up in each other’s arms. I would have gladly stayed there for the rest of our time in Finland, or the decade, but I have no idea if she feels the same way. It’s possible being locked together in the middle of nowhere caused a temporary lapse of sanity on her part. And sure, she hasn’t been playing angry songs tonight, but she’s not serenading me with the love ballads that maybe a small part of me was hoping for. She’s chosen some more middle of the road songs like the Creedence Clearwater Revival cover she’s doing now, which still sounds fucking perfect.

  “Obviously, I have a thing for Melody,” I finally answer.

  “Ugh, yeah, that’s like saying the sun is bright,” Brooke chimes in.

  I glare at her. “Well, Melody might have just warmed up a little bit to this sun then. That’s all.” I shrug.

  “I’m happy for you,” Brooke says with a smile. I know she means it. We’ve known each other since we were little and were both thrown into the cesspool of elite society. We’re both supposed to behave and shut up and take over our father’s businesses without a second of thinking for ourselves. And that’s why I don’t want Brooke, of all people, to view this as a happy ending when it’s not. I don’t want to give her even the slightest glimmer of hope that we might get a chance to be content, when I’m not so sure we do.

  “Don’t be,” I answer. “I’m pretty sure she still despises me.”

  “Even after the dozens of lilies you had sent to her room?” She asks with a cocked eyebrow.

  Crap. I should have known that wouldn’t slip by Brooke in her own hotel. I wonder if she noticed how the shade of pink matches Melody’s hair perfectly. It took a ridiculously long time to find those, and sure, I’m the slightest bit proud of it.

  I give her a non-committal shrug and catch Cole’s eyes burning through me in disbelief, most likely trying to reconcile the asshole he knows with the man he is witnessing right now.

  “For the record, the two of you make perfect sense to me,” Brooke continues. The woman really isn’t letting me be mysterious and non-committal. “Since we were little, you’ve been one of the most passionate people I’ve ever known. But for some reason, as you got older, you seemed to consider that passion a liability. Which, sure, I get it. But Melody matches your passion, and I’ve been enjoying seeing you forced to admit to yours, just to keep up with her.”

  This time, I look at Brooke. It means tearing my eyes away from Melody’s rendition of ‘Have You Ever Seen the Rain’ and that hurts, but this is important. It’s the kind of observation that can make all the difference in someone’s life, because as blinded as I am by my lust and curiosity and awe of Melody, I believe there is something bigger and deeper there. And this tells me I might not be completely delusional.

  “Thanks Brooke,” I say, meeting her eyes. And I know that this is enough for her to know I truly mean it.

  She smiles, self-satisfied, and begins clapping as Melody finishes out her final note. I join, relishing the opportunity to celebrate her in this way. I would clap for her constantly, but when I join the timing of everyone else, it’s suddenly not weird.

  Melody thanks the audience and does a nervous little curtsy and then laughs at herself, her cheeks growing red. I notice her look nervously at me and I give her a big grin, assuring her that her awkwardness hasn’t gone unnoticed by me and she better believe I will tease her for it.

  She steps down from the stage and glides our way, nodding and thanking the people praising her along the way. She is wearing a deep emerald velvet dress that is high-necked and long-sleeved but hugs her body like my boxers do every time she gets close. Her hair is loosely tied up and all I want to do is dig my fingers into the back of her hair and pull her in for a kiss.

  Instead, I sit back while she greets Brooke with a hug. I get up to greet her. While I’m ready to give her a kiss, she is giving me a side-arm-half-hug and our coordination is so off that I basically chin-butt her head.

  “Oh,” she says, bringing her hand to her head. “Hello to you, too.”

  “We can practice that,” I assure her.

  She gives Cole a pat on the shoulder as a hello, and I’m relieved he at least doesn’t get a side-arm hug, but I also have to marvel at how awkward Melody is being. It’s kind of adorable. One second she’s captivating every eye in the room, and now she is bright red and can barely look at me. She sits herself down at the empty chair between Cole and I.

  “Amazing set, Melody,” Cole says looking between us. I swear this is like he’s stumbled upon ancient alien writing and he is trying to figure it out. He is genuinely perplexed by the drastically different dynamic between Mel and I.

  “You blow me away every time,” Brooke agrees.

  “Oh, wow. Thank you guys,” Melody says. “It just happens to be the only thing I’m good at.”

  “That’s not true,” I say a bit too defensively. I’m not sure even what I am referring to. She was a shit cross-country skier, just like me. “You’re excellent at holding your liquor. Much better than me.” I lamely try to save myself.

  “Mm, well on that note. Why don’t we grab us all a round of drinks?” Brooke says, looking at me clearly indicating she knows she’s trying to save this fragile, delicate thing between Melody and I before we trample on it with our awkwardness.

  Cole stands and walks away, still looking at us both perplexed. Brooke grabs his elbow and tugs at him until he finally takes his eyes off of us.

  “Hi,” I say softly, taking her hand under the table.

  “Hi,” she says with a laugh.

  “I’m sorry if you didn’t want me to come see you play tonight,” I start. “It’s just that you’re the best show in town. I can’t stay away.”

  “Mm,” she smiles. “I’ll pretend for just this moment that I’m not the only show in town. Oh, and thanks for the flowers, by the way. I gotta say, it is quite a spectacle in my room. It practically looks like lilies are growing out of the walls.”

  I notice myself tapping my foot nervously. The idea seemed perfect this morning, but now I realize it might have come off a little strong. “Was it too much?” I ask with a pained face. “Be honest.”

  She looks me in the eye now. She has a laugh dancing in her eyes. “You know, if anyone else sent me four dozen lilies perfectly matching my hair…” Yes, she noticed that. “… I guess, I would be concerned by how strong they’re coming on.”

  “Oh yeah? And since it’s me?”

  “It made me really happy,” Melody says, her blue eyes flashing with vulnerability.

  I squeeze her hand. “That’s all I want.”

  I glance around us. I can see Brooke and Cole lingering at the bar, Brooke clearly debating giving us more time.

  “Hey,” I start. “Can I show you something?”

  She agrees, and I lead her out of the lodge, draping my cashmere coat over her. She looks made to wear it, the lush fabric brushing against her long neck.

  I lead her to the ATV reserved for the guests. She looks at me like I’m insane.

  “It’s a short distance. I promise I’m not taking you back to our little cabin in the middle of nowhere. As much as I would like that.”

  She laughs and nods, getting up on the ATV sideways to accommodate her dress. I hop on in front of her.
/>   “Hold on,” I say and relish the sensation of her small hands grasping around my waist in response.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Lucien

  I’m bringing Mel to the best part of this whole resort. Well, best thing after her. It’s the feature that sold me on this investment with Brooke. They are glass igloos, meant for viewing the aurora borealis and being completely alone with nature and if you’re lucky, the person you want to share it with.

  Right now there is a cloud cover, so there is nothing to view, but that’s not why I’m bringing Melody here. I booked this place as soon as we returned this morning. It was instinct, really. I didn’t want to leave that sparse little cabin where it was only the two of us, so this is the next best thing.

  I guide her inside by the hand and we’re greeted by the warmth of a crackling fire. They must have just finished setting up in here according to my requests. I notice the bottle of champagne waiting for us as well.

  “Is this where you’ve been staying?” Melody asks as she walks around the perimeter of the room.

  “No. I reserved it when we got back this morning. Just in case you needed to remind you what happens between us when we’re totally isolated from the rest of the world.”

  Melody laughs lightly. “You don’t have to do all of this… The lute, the flowers, this. You could give me all those things and if I didn’t like what I saw in you, I’d still run the other way.”

  “Oh? And if you do like what you see?”

  “Then I theoretically would be naked pretty soon, despite the fact that I’m in a structure made completely of glass.”

  “Then I really hope you do like what you see.”

  “It would be easier if you were a little less covered up yourself.”

  “I can do that,” I say with a grin so large it could break my face. “I can do that really quick so you better be ready.”

 

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