Chapter Twenty-Seven
MILLIE
Luc’s bodyshudders above me, his eyelids dropping half-mast. That’s the only thing about him half-mast. The silken brick of his erection is as startling as if I’d reached down there and grabbed a handgun.
I stroke him, and he hisses, raising his hips as though to draw away, but I don’t let go. “You heard me. We have to share.”
Luc’s eyes are closed now, and he’s biting his bottom lip. Against my knuckles, his lower abs are rock hard. Just like the rest of him.
“Relax,” I whisper, stroking again. “God, you even feel beautiful.”
He groans, but I know I’ve won when he collapses on his side, and I roll toward him so we’re facing each other, my hand freer now to do exactly what I want. But if I’m going to get to do this, I want him bare. As bare as I am.
“What do I have to do to have you naked in my bed?”
His eyes spring open. In an impressive flash of masculine thrashing, his jeans come off and land on the floor. I didn’t even have time to let go. Not that I would have now that I’ve finally got my hands on him.
But now there’s too much to look at, and my hand is in the way, so I let go and trail my fingertips down one gorgeous thigh. Dark skin. Darker hair. The curls at his sex are as black as kohl. I run my fingers up through them and hear the catch in Luc’s breath, but my senses are too enthralled to pay full attention. His hair here is coarser than the mass of dark silk on his head, but it’s still softer than I expected. I trace one curl with my index finger, and his cock leaps. At his sides, Luc’s hands ball into fists.
Smiling, I look up and meet his stare. “I’m fascinated.”
Luc’s teeth clench, making the muscles in his jaw stand out. A strangled sound rises in his throat, and I watch him swallow, the masculine mechanics there so lovely too. I stretch up and kiss the column of his throat, gripping him again as I do.
His moan hums against my lips. I can’t stop smiling.
“I should have known it would be like this,” he croaks.
I draw back to meet his gaze, stroking him lightly from base to tip. “Like what?”
His eyes lower to slits. “Torture.”
“No,” I whisper, drawing out the word and timing my downward stroke to match it. “Not torture. I’m not teasing.”
The brow with the sexy-as-hell scar arches. “Then what are you doing?”
A minute ago, he called memi amor.That meansmy love,doesn’t it? Is that what he means? Or is it just an endearment, meant to show feeling but not… I want to tell him the truth, but I don’t think I can. Buying time, my hands slide down and I cup his balls gently. He hisses again, but he doesn’t move. Doesn’t try to stop me. He’s surrendered, trusting me completely.
He does trust me completely. He has from the start.
My hand rides up the length of him again. “I’m… l-loving what’s mine,” I say, my voice trembling just a little.
Luc’s nostrils flare, and his chest heaves. But he says nothing. My mouth goes dry. I lick my lips and look away, my heart racing.
Abort. Evasive maneuvers.
I squeeze him, my gaze on the erotic beauty in my hand. “Y-you did say this was mine,” I say, trying to make the words light and meaningless.
Then his hand is covering mine. “Yes.” His voice is fathoms deep. He glides my grip over him pumping once, but then he lifts my hand off him. I look up, confused. When my gaze lands on his, it’s like he’s seeing straight into me. And it’s terrifying.
But then he settles my hand over his heart. “And this is yours, too.”
The look in his eyes makes my breath leave me all at once.
“What about yours, Millie?” he asks, the corners of his mouth turning up.
“W-what?” Let’s face it. I’ve always been a chicken shit.
His smile grows. “Are you trying to tell me you love me?”
