For a stretch of untold moments, I lose time and place, the tide of Luc’s kisses pulling me away. His free hand cradles my face, and it takes me a moment to realize nothing is stopping me from touching him. Exploring him. I run my left hand up his side, and his moan rumbles into my mouth. His skin is so shockingly soft. It amazes me that this softness has been there this whole time, hidden from the world under humble cotton T-shirts. Being allowed to touch him is like gaining entrance to some secret society, a chosen order. Who knew?
Mesmerized, I untangle my hand holding his and run both palms down his back. Luc arches, the motion settles his hips snuggly between my thighs, and his fly hits me just right. Just like his leg did when he walked me backward to his room, except now, there’s no thick denim to blunt the touch. Just the gossamer thin lace, and I feel his surge like seismic activity.
He breaks from my mouth, shifting his attention to my jaw and neck. I melt beneath him, tension I’ve carried for I don’t know how long unspooling muscle from bone. I’m so relaxed that when he takes my breast into his mouth a second time, the erotic shock of it sends me arching off the mattress.
“Oh God.”
At the sound of my voice, breathy and urgent, Luc grunts, sucking harder. Under his hot mouth, my heart stampedes. Of their own will, my hips tilt and sway, rubbing against him.
“Me vas a matar,”Luc mutters, switching to the other breast. I want to ask what it means, but I can’t. Words have abandoned me. All I know is Luc’s mouth. His body. And the pleasure he is drawing out of me.
I want him. I want him so badly.
If I were anyone else, I’d be begging to have him inside me. As it is, my hands settle on his waist, his obliques taut and coiled with power as he moves above me. My fingers touch where the rough denim waistband meets the silken aliveness of his skin. At his waist, I allow my hands to delve deeper into his jeans, and a shudder runs through Luc that I feel all along my body. He pulls free of my breast, shaking his head.
“No,” he says roughly. “Can’t go there.”
I blink and bring my hands back to his ribs. “Sorry. I just want to touch you—”
Luc growls low in his throat, and I feel it deep in my sex. “Not today.” The look in his eyes is serious, flashing an iron will. The fact that he’s not allowing me to touch him makes me realize just how much I want to.
God, I want to touch him. I want to make him feel good.
“I want to be the one who makes you feel good.”
His eyes soften, as though my words have struck him somewhere tender. I actually can’t believe I said them out loud, but I don’t want to call them back. It’s the truth.
“Millie,” Luc says, his voice as rough as sandpaper. “You are.”
And then he’s kissing me again. Fierce. Hungry. I’m all in. Matching his ferocity, his hunger with my own. And if I’m only allowed to touch what he’s bared to me, then I’m going to make him feel me on every inch. My hands sweep over his back, ride his muscles, play along this spine. He feels as beautiful as he looks.
I draw them over his shoulders, making just enough space between us to reach his chest. And when my fingers find the pucker of his left nipple, the desire to taste it nearly turns me inside out. I break our kiss and scooch down, Luc’s startled panting filling my ear.
His pecs are exquisite. Flat and hard like river stones. I could love them with my mouth for the next hour. But the moment the tip of my tongue meets his dark nipple, he jerks away.
Luc planks above me, eyes wide. “What are you trying to do to me?”
I swallow. “I just told you.”
I prop up on my elbows to close the distance between us, and he pushes up higher, shaking his head.
“No. Lie back down.”
I blink. “Are you serious?”
“Do I look like I’m joking?” The glint in his eye and that scar in his brow have never looked more severe.
I lie back down.
Luc drops his knees between my legs again, and then he surprises me by grabbing my wrists and hauling my hands up over my head.
“These stay here.” Then he angles down over me an inch above my face. “This,” he dips and plants a kiss on my mouth, “stays right here.”
“But—”
Then I’m staring at the ceiling. I look down in time to watch Luc kiss my navel. I move to sit up or shimmy down, but his big hand comes up, lands right on my sternum, and pushes me down.
“Quédate.”
