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She stepped inside and shut the door behind her, and I was already striding toward her, had her in my arms, my hand cupping the back of her head, and just held her. I buried my face in her hair, closing my eyes and inhaling deeply.
The scent of lemons filled my nose. “I was just thinking about you,” I said gruffly against her ear and dragged my lips across her cheek, along her jaw, and pressed my mouth to hers.
She kissed me slowly, softly, but I instantly knew something was wrong. I pulled back and looked down at her, the expression on her face telling me she was guarded, that she was trying to act like nothing bothered her. But she couldn’t hide it from me.
I’d watched her for too long, knew her facial expressions, what she liked and didn’t like, knew when something was wrong. And being with her, finally claiming her, had only intensified all of that.
“Tell me what’s wrong.” Instantly my thoughts went to some little fucker hurting her. I couldn’t help it, couldn’t help the possessive, protective side that rose up in me where she was concerned.
She didn’t say anything at first, just exhaled and shook her head. I led her over to the couch and sat down, keeping her hand in mine, in fact, wanting her on my lap so I could hold her, so I could comfort her.
“My mother came by last night,” she said softly. “Apparently my father is having another baby with his wife.” She exhaled again as if she were frustrated.
When Grace leaned back on the couch and tipped her head, resting it on the cushion and staring at the ceiling, I glanced at the slender column of her throat, at the way her pulse beat steadily beneath her ear.
“The crazy part of all of this is not that I’m upset he’s having another one, especially at his age. But that he hurt my mother.” She looked at me then, and although I could see she was upset, but she was so damn strong.
I reached out and cupped her cheek, my fingers curled gently around the base of her neck. Her long, dark hair fell over my hands, along the back of the couch.
“Lucian,” she whispered softly. Grace looked at me then, something flitting across her face. “I just want to feel something other than this hurt and frustration.” She shifted on the couch so she was facing me, and I kept my hand on her cheek.
I’d do anything for her, and the fact she was in pain, that maybe I could give her some comfort, take some of that hurt away so it was off her mind, had me reacting instantly.
I leaned in and kissed her, sliding my tongue along the seam of her lips, feeling her lean against me.
“I love you,” I said against her mouth, and she moaned, wrapping her arms around my neck and pressing herself closer to my body. “God, I love you so much it feels like my heart could stop from it.”
She leaned back and looked me in the eyes. “Don’t ever leave,” she whispered with this desperation in her voice.
“Never.” We were tied together for life.
She was mine and I was hers. Irrevocably.
* * *
Grace
When my momhad told me about my father, there were only two people that I wanted to confide in, to get comfort from.
Sherry and Lucian.
But they were different kinds of comfort, different kinds of emotional support that I needed from them.
I’d called Sherry last night, talked to her for hours, knew that things would be okay because they had to be. And it felt better … but I’d felt this hole in me still.
And first thing this morning, I’d come to see Lucian. I’d wanted to talk to him last night, to have him wrap his arms around me, to do more than just tell me everything was okay—to actually show me. I knew he’d pull this hurt and betrayal from me, so I felt nothing but him and me.
I clung to him, kissed him with this feverish need that I’d never felt before. I found myself on top of him, my legs on either side of his, the stiff outline of his erection pressing right between my thighs telling me he was right here with me.
I moaned and opened my mouth wider, tilting my head, delving my tongue between his lips and taking from him what I knew he freely gave.
He lifted his hips up, grinding his dick against me, and at the same time I pushed down, rocking back and forth, feeling sparks of pleasure filling me.
He had his hands on my hips, his fingers digging into my flesh with almost bruising force. But I wanted those marks. I wanted to look in the mirror tomorrow and see what he’d done to me, that I was his, that he’d branded me.
I pressed my breasts against his chest, my nipples hard, ultrasensitive. The gruff sound that came from him spurred me on, and I started rocking back and forth against his erection, rubbing my pussy along the length, the bulge. I could’ve gotten off this way, finding my release by moving over Lucian.
“Yes,” I whispered against his mouth, breaking the kiss only long enough to suck in a lungful of air.
