“They can be a little overwhelming, can’t they?”
I jumped, startled by the sound of Jacob’s deep voice. I hadn’t even realized he’d arrived at the house, let alone had found me behind the closed door of Lucien’s bedroom.
He was watching me from his casual stance leaning against the doorframe.
“When did you get here?”
“Just a few minutes ago.”
He pushed away from the door and came deeper into the room, his eyes falling to my open suitcase on the end of the bed. One of those fancy bras Theresa made me buy was sitting on top, its rounded cups leaving little mystery as to what it was meant to hold. The way he bit his bottom lip made me feel uncomfortable, as though we were doing something for which I should rush to confession to clear my soul of.
I stood and backed up a little.
“We should go back out.”
“In a minute.” Jacob’s eyes came up to mine, his dark eyes like little pebbles as he studied my face. “Lucien isn’t like most of the men you’ve probably dated. He’s not the kind who brings a woman home lightly.”
I gestured toward the French doors that led out onto the back deck where we could hear the low voices of his parents. “Your sister has made that pretty clear.”
“He’s had his heart broken as often as the rest of us. Maybe more,” he continued, as though I hadn’t spoken. “He’s been through a lot in his life. He doesn’t deserve to be hurt again.”
“We’ve only just met, Jacob.”
“That’s why I’m telling you this.” His eyes moved slowly over me, lingering in places where they shouldn’t have. I crossed my arms over my chest, and that brought his attention back to my face. “I won’t stand idly by and watch you break his heart. Little bar flies like you are a dime a dozen. But Lucien…” He shook his head. “He’s worth so much more than that.”
Anger burned in my chest. A bar fly? I wasn’t some little slut who hung out in dark bars just waiting for some guy to have pity on me and buy me a drink. I had so much more self-respect than that. I could take this guy out with one well-placed punch to the throat. And I would have, under any other circumstances.
But this was a case. It was my job to keep Lucien safe. Knocking out his brother wasn’t going to do that.
“What’s going on?”
I turned, relieved for once to see Lucien’s tall frame standing just a few feet away.
“Nothing,” Jacob said, his eyes moving over me one last time. “Just saying hello.”
“I’d say you’ve done that. So maybe you’ll give us a little privacy?”
Jacob nodded, ducking around Lucien without really looking at him. Lucien shut the door and stood there for a moment, resting his head against the cool wood for a long moment.
“I was just sitting here, and he came—”
“Could you get some juice out of that fridge for me?” Lucien said, interrupting me.
I glanced at him. He hadn’t moved, but still stood with his head against the door. I’d seen the small fridge tucked into a corner near the bed, but hadn’t really registered what it was. I wondered why he couldn’t get his own damn juice, but I went over there and grabbed one of these little pouches of juice that parents buy for their toddlers and carried it to him. He didn’t look up, and when he reached for it, his hand was shaking.
“Could you do the straw?” he asked.
There was something off about the tone of his voice. Was he angry at me for being alone in here with Jacob? It wasn’t like we were really a couple, despite all the touching and the kisses we’d exchanged. He really had no right to be angry.
I stabbed the straw into the bag and handed it back to him. He sipped at it, his eyes closed as he continued to stand with his back to me. When it was empty, he dropped it onto the floor and pulled something out of his pocket that looked like a small handheld game console or something.
Hell of a time to play games.
He watched its screen for a moment. I peeked at it, saw nothing more than a graph, the number fifty-five, and an arrow that was pointed downward.
“I’m sorry. Could you get me another juice?” he asked, his voice kind of weak.
I didn’t understand. But I was beginning to think there was something odd going on.
I got another bag of juice and pushed the straw into it without waiting for him to ask. He drank that one down too, then moved to a chair, sitting back like he’d just finished running a marathon or something.
“What’s going on? What is that thing?”
He looked at the device in his hand like he’d forgotten it was there. He held it up, turned so that I could see that the number was now a fifty-nine and the arrow was gone.
“It’s a continuous glucose monitor.”
“Glucose?”
He nodded. “I’m diabetic. Have been since I was six.”
I don’t know why it surprised me, but it did. I studied him, searching him for something that I’d missed before. I don’t know what I expected to see, but I felt like there should be some physical sign. Something that should have told me that he wasn’t all he appeared to be.
He sat up a little and pulled his shirt out of his pants. “Do you want to see?” he asked even as he lifted the shirt up high enough that it revealed washboard abs and two odd looking objects attached to his belly. One was about the size of a half dollar, a white piece of gauze with a clear plastic thing attached to a long, thin tube. The other was roughly the same size, but it was thicker, heavier. And it wasn’t attached to anything.
“Insulin pump,” he said, flicking his finger against the first item. “Glucose transmitter,” he said, touching the other.
I was at a loss for words. I don’t know where I was going, but I got up and headed toward the door. He grabbed me just as my hand touched the knob, and spun me around.
“Does it make me weak in your eyes?”
“What?” I was startled. I didn’t know what to say.
“Does it make me weak? Less of a man?”
“I… No, it doesn’t. But you should have told me.”
“Why?”
I started to shake my head, but he ran his hand over my throat and grabbed my jaw, forcing my head still.
“Some women think it’s a weakness. An infirmity. Like I’m not really a man because I have a chronic illness that can knock me flat on my ass at any moment.” He ran his thumb over my bottom lip. “Do you think that?”
I thought about a man I’d served with. I’d visited him in the VA hospital a few months after I left the Army. He’d been injured when a grenade went off too close to him as he walked his patrol one night. Shrapnel damaged his leg so badly that it had to be amputated. His wife hadn’t been to the hospital to see him because he couldn’t stand the idea that she might look at him differently.
“You don’t need a leg to be a man.”
I’d meant it. And I meant it when I touched the side of Lucien’s face and said, “If you think this makes you less of a man, then your definition of masculinity and mine are two very different things.”
He stared at me for a long moment, like he couldn’t wrap his mind around what I’d just said. And then his mouth was on mine, and I slid my arms around his neck, buried my fingers in his hair, and pulled him tight against me.
We kissed roughly, lips mashing and teeth getting in the way. His hands moved low over my hips, and he lifted me, pulling up against the smooth wood of the door until we were face to face. I wrapped my legs around his waist, clinging to him as the material of my dress betrayed me by sliding up over my thighs, exposing my upper thighs to his touch. And touch he did, running his hands over the silky material of my new panties, his fingertips brushing places they never should have known.
I didn’t know much about Lucien. I didn’t know anything about this girlfriend who’d apparently broken his heart. I didn’t know why he hadn’t brought any other women home in the past few years. I didn’t know what his favorite color was, if he liked music, if
he watched movies late at night when he couldn’t sleep. But I knew he was a damn good kisser and he was doing a service to humanity in his work. And I knew he was as masculine as any man I’d served with in the military.
I knew that I shouldn’t want this. I shouldn’t want his touch. But I also knew that his touch did things to my body that made me forget that I shouldn’t want this.
He turned and carried me to the bed, controlling the fall so that he didn’t land too roughly on top of me. But the weight of his body was reassuring, just the same. I slid my hands under his shirt, drawing it up over the heavy muscles I could feel rippling just under the skin as he tugged at my dress, trying to get it out of his way. His shirt disappeared as he broke out kiss and sat up a little, exposing once again those washboard abs that made my fingers itch to touch. And his chest… Those pecs were as well defined as any I’d seen at boot camp. I sat up too, lifted my arms so he could pull my dress over my head. His eyes moved over my new bra, and I was actually happy I’d spent the money, happy that his eyes looked like those of a hungry animal who’d just set his sights on the perfect prey.
He pressed his lips to my throat, and I rolled my head back, gave him access to everything he wanted. My nipples strained, needing his touch. He tugged at the clasp between my heaving breasts, tugged until it finally came free and the cups loosened. And then his hand was sliding underneath, the heat of his touch, the pressure on my nipple, drawing a moan from the depths of my throat. And then his mouth… Oh, my God! If I thought he knew what to do with a simple kiss… He was quite the expert with that tongue in other places, too.
I lay back against the pillows again, my fingers buried in his hair as he took his time nibbling and tasting and… There were no words for the things he was doing to me. I forgot where I was. I forgot why I was there. I just wanted his touch, wanted to feel him everywhere.
He made his way slowly down my body, every nerve in my body coming alive as he tugged at my panties and pulled them slowly down the length of my legs. I don’t know what made my head spin more, the feel of his fingers caressing my body gently, or the look in his eye as he took in every inch of my naked flesh.
I’d never felt adored. I’d heard that phrase before, seen it in erotic stories that were my secret shame. But I’d never understood it until tonight, until I saw it in his eyes. The way he looked at me, the way his eyes caressed me more gently than his hands… I knew what it meant. And I knew I would never forget the way it felt.
And then he blew me away again as he lifted a foot to his mouth, kissing the very bottom before moving over my ankle, along my calf, taking his time behind my knee, working his way slowly up the length of me. I knew where he was headed, knew what he planned for me. My clit stood on end, waiting for the moment he would finally pay attention to it, something deep in my belly aching for the moment he would turn his attention to that, too. My body had never known such pleasure before, but it seemed to understand the potential of what lay ahead, and it anticipated it with such eagerness that I no longer had control over what would or would not happen next.
I had to bite down hard on my lip to keep from crying out. I was vaguely aware that we could still hear his family out on the back deck. If we could hear them, they could hear us. But that thought was like a foreign idea, something I knew I should be worried about, but couldn’t quite grasp. And then he was twirling my clit around behind his front teeth, and I was gone. All thought was just gone. All I was aware of was the tingle of pleasure that continuously rushed up and down the length of my spine.
I sat up a little, pressed him closer to me with a hand against the back of his head. He pulled back to catch his breath, and I caught the smile of satisfaction on his lips. And then… Oh, hell! Why had I never known how good this could be?
A moment later, he was pushing me back against the mattress, his hand working between our bodies to get his slacks out of the way. I reached down to help him, my legs shamelessly spread as wide as I could get them. And then his hardness was in my hands, his head teasing my lips as I pulled him close to me. His lips brushed mine, the taste of my need an aphrodisiac that couldn’t have pushed me any further than I’d already gone. I cried out as his head pushed inside of me, as he thrust and the length of him filled me quickly and completely. I buried my hands against the hardness of his ass, tugging him tighter against me as I moved, as I positioned him perfectly against me, inside of me. He groaned as he waited, as we waited together for our hearts to catch up with our bodies. And then he began to move in a slow, rolling thrust that touched everything and more, and filled my body with such pleasure that I thought I might lose my sense of reality, disappear into that moment and live there for the rest of my life.
I’ve been with men before. Two men, actually. Short-lived romances that hadn’t lasted longer than they should have. But neither had been anything like this. It was like comparing Shakespeare to a play composed and acted by precocious children. There was no comparison. That had been a physical release. This was so much more. It was on a whole different level. I didn’t want it to stop. I was connected to Lucien in a way I’d never connected with anyone else. It was indescribable. It was perfection.
But then my body betrayed me. I was sailing, loving every touch, every movement. But then the familiar tingle—familiar but amplified a million times—began low in my belly. My thighs began to quiver, and my muscles began to tighten. My ears rang as my orgasm washed over me, rushing me so hard that I couldn’t catch my breath for a moment. And this sound like nothing I’d ever made before slipped from between my lips.
He grabbed my hip and pulled me hard against him, made me lie still. The vibration of his own groan moved against my chest. I held him as I vaguely understood that he’d reached his pinnacle, too. He was filling me with his life seed, and it seemed right. I should have been concerned, should have had thoughts that were escaping me at the moment. I held him and accepted him, reality a distant place now.
But it wasn’t for long. We lay tangled in each other for a long time, but he finally rolled away, adjusting things I’d forgotten about. The tube snaking out of his slacks pocket, the machine it was attached to. He kicked his pants away, but cradled the small device against his belly before pulling me back against him, the coolness of the device pressed against my skin bringing me back to myself.
What the hell had I just done?
Chapter 9
Lucien
I watched her sleep, her tiny body tucked close against my chest. She was warm and soft, but firm in all the right places. I ran my fingers over her arm, smiling as one of her nipples slowly puckered in response to that simple touch. She moaned softly, snuggling her head closer to the pillow under her head.
“We should get up,” I said as I brushed my lips against her ear. “Mom’ll have breakfast on the table soon. You don’t want to miss out on her waffles.”
“Hmm,” she moaned.
I smiled again, brushing my lips lightly against her jaw.
“I’m gonna go get in the shower. You can join me if you like.”
I climbed out of bed, carrying my pump in my hand as I made my way to the en suite bathroom. I turned on the water and set out a towel before turning off the flow of insulin and unhooking the device from the infusion needle that stayed attached to my stomach. I stepped under the showerhead and let the water wash away the cobwebs, my thoughts immediately moving to last night, to the taste and feel of Adrienne’s body as she writhed underneath me. I hadn’t expected that to happen, but I had no regrets.
I was afraid she would, though. I knew she was uncomfortable with our arrangement. But when we touched, I liked to think she wasn’t just acting.
And, as though in confirmation of my thoughts, the shower door opened.
I turned and watched her step inside. She wouldn’t look at me. Her eyes were focused on my stomach, on the medical devices that kept me going day in and day out. She touched the unclipped protrusion of the infusion set, her finger moving along the out
er edge of the adhesive that held it in place.
I took her hand and pulled it up to my chest, pressing it between my pecs.
“Look at me.”
Her eyes came up slowly, focusing on my lips. I pushed her back, pressing her up against the cool tiles at the back of the shower. I lifted her chin, forced her to look me in the eye.
“There’s no shame in wanting what you want.”
She bit her lip, her eyes falling again.
I lifted her chin again. “Tell me you want me.”
She blushed. “I don’t even know you. This is insane. It’s not what I—”
“Tell me you want me.”
Her eyes came up to mine, tears making them darker.
“I want you.”
It was a whisper, but it was the truth. I could see it in her eyes, feel it in her hand as she pressed it against my navel and let it move downward, move closer and closer to what I needed. I closed my eyes and sighed as she wrapped that little hand around my shaft, using the water from the shower as a lubricant of sorts. The memory of last night and the feel of her touch was almost too much. I bent low and grasped her thighs, lifting her up, pinning her against the wall as she guided me to her much the same way she had last night.
The urgency was lessened, but the need was just the same. Her arms snaked around my neck, giving her leverage as she responded to my slow thrusts. And then our mouths found one another again, dancing a new but familiar dance. We clung together, taking our time in a way we hadn’t last night. But it built to the same crescendo, took us on the same ride. I felt her thighs quiver seconds before she tossed her head back and cried out, the sound like the first music to ever fall on deaf ears.
She had this power over me. Every time I thought I was in control, she managed to make me lose it. If I had known what this would be like, I might have thought twice when Ruben showed me her picture and assured me she would take care of my problem. It would be simple. And we’d have a little fun along the way. But this… What had I gotten myself into?
DONOVAN: A Standalone Romance (Gray Wolf Security) Page 40
