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And that’s what I did with the rest of the fruit, fed her from my hand and grew hard with need.
When the coffee and dessert came, homemade cannolis and fresh whipped cream, I couldn’t help myself from dipping my index finger into the cream and bringing the digit to her mouth. “And this is theDolce, the final course.”
I was rock-hard at this point, so ready for her that I was at the point where I almost said fuck who would see us and took her right then and there. And as we stared at each other, as the heat increased and the conversation that had grown so heavy started to dissipate, the only thing left between us in that moment was solid need.
It was raw and hungry, and it would eat us alive if we didn’t give in to it.
I felt that with everything in me.
But Grace held the power, and she was in control of this moment.
“Take me to your place, Lucian,” she whispered as I looked into her face.
I wanted nothing more than to hold Grace, to kiss her and show her that there wasn’t anything else more important in this moment, in this fucking world than the two of us being together.
“I need to be with you.”
I groaned, unable to help myself at hearing her say those words. And then a beast rose up in me and I was helpless to stop it. I stood and walked toward her, pulled her from her seat, and had my lips pressed to hers a second later. I fucked her mouth in the way I knew I’d be doing between her thighs tonight. I didn’t care who watched, who saw me claiming her in this way. I wanted everyone to know that she was mine and that nothing would come between us.
And God, I couldn’t wait to take her innocence … to make her mine.
ChapterSeventeen
Grace
Ifelt out of my element a little, like I was walking through a dream—a really good one, but a dream nonetheless. After dinner Lucian had taken us to his place … like I’d asked, hell, pretty much begged him to do.
That was also another thing so unlike me. I never asked, all but demanded what I wanted, but with Lucian I felt myself wanting to jump out of the box I’d put myself in. And then when he’d opened himself up to me, told me about his life, his past, I knew in that moment that we were one and the same.
I had a loving family, a mother who was always there for me. My father was another story entirely, but the loneliness I could see in Lucian was one I’d felt countless times. By nature I was a solitary person, living life by keeping people at arm’s length.
And it had been in that one moment that I realized my love for him was true, justified, and consuming.
Now here I was, back at his apartment, my head clear but my nerves taking over.
As I walked through his apartment, taking everything in, learning about Lucian through his things, I couldn’t help but feel closer to him.
It was modest but had lavish accents, as if he’d plucked each piece out of a different time period, a different era. I walked toward the painting hanging on the wall, a large piece that had a tiny light illuminating it from the top, the glow showing the sweeping lines of color, the intricate way it all came together.
I moved on to the bookshelves, massive oak ones that were filled with books, most looking old, the leather spines having gold leaf accents. I ran my fingers over each one, and I swore I could feel their gaze, the knowledge they held inside those pages.
I moved to the window, a large, picturesque one that looked out onto his backyard, the cityscape beyond vast, beautiful.
When I turned, I saw the black piano, gleaming under the dim light, the ivory keys so white and pristine. I’d been so out of it my first night here that I didn’t remember any of this.
And among his worldly things, I noticed the one piece of decor he was missing.
Pictures. Of his family, friends … of himself.
I faced Lucian, saw him standing in the entryway to his kitchen, the lights off aside from the low entryway one he’d turned on when we arrived. The shadows played across his body, accenting the lean and cut muscle underneath his tailored slacks and Oxford shirt.
My mouth went dry, knowing he watched me even though I couldn’t see his face clearly, couldn’t make out his eyes with the darkness that surrounded him.
He’d let me wander, looking at his possessions, running my fingers over them.
He pushed away from the wall and took a step toward me, slipping his hands into the pockets of his slacks, his head slightly lowered as he continued to watch me. I moved closer to the piano, saw he tracked my movements like a predator watching his prey. The hairs on my arms stood on end from awareness, from realizing that in this moment I was very much at the mercy of Lucian, of my feelings.
I felt like he stalked me, like he knew my every move before I even took the step.
