by Calia Read
“Slow,” he orders, his voice gravelly.
“Hmm?” I ask, feigning confusion. I suck on the side of his neck, looping my free arm over his shoulder.
The scent of sweat and sex in the air only heightens my awareness for him until every touch and kiss and movement is amplified. Étienne’s lips eventually find mine while his hands toy with the garters holding my stockings in place.
“I bet you’re wet for me again,” he says against my lips.
“I bet I can make you come with a simple squeeze of my hand,” I retort with a smile.
To prove my point, I do just that. Étienne grunts and loses his balance. The both of us go backward. I land softly on the mattress and yelp when I see Étienne moving toward me. He breaks his fall with his arms and hovers above me. One knee rests between my open legs while the other remains on the floor.
“Are you laughin’ at me?” In the darkness, I can still make out the curve of Étienne’s smile.
“I had a giant falling toward me,” I reply as my fingers link around his neck. “It was scary. Just for a moment.”
“Are you scared now?” Étienne asks. He presses his lower body into mine. I feel his dick press against the apex of my thighs.
A shudder rocks through me, and I fight to keep my eyes open. “No.”
“Good,” Étienne whispers against my lips before he dives in, slanting his lips across mine. Together, we work to remove the dress. All without our lips breaking contact. I lift my hips and inadvertently brush against him. Étienne mutters another curse word and all but rips my dress clean off. The material glides down my calves and ankles before it drops to the floor. When it does, my legs fall open, and I begin planning how I can take control of the situation.
Digging my heel into the mattress, I push back until I’m planted in the middle of the bed. I gesture for Étienne to come closer. His eyes are practically gleaming with desire as he succumbs to my beckoning. When Étienne’s looming above me, I curl my hands around the collar of his shirt and jerk him closer. He dips his head down, intent on kissing me. At the very last second, I shove at his shoulders. The action throws him off guard, and he willingly rolls over. I follow close behind him. My knees press into the mattress as I straddle his thighs. My palms lay flat on the vast expanse of his chest. His eyes widen in surprise and excitement. My hands have a mind of their own and trail down his stomach, the rigid muscles jump beneath my touch. Our eyes connect as I wrap my hand around him. He’s harder than before if that’s possible.
There’s nothing but the sound of our heavy breathing and the rhythmic movements of my hand as Étienne’s on the brink of losing control.
See me now. Feel me now. I reign over your world, my actions scream.
Étienne lays flat on the bed; his hand fists the sheet as he stares at me through thin slit eyes. His head tilts back when I increase the speed and pressure of my grip.
“Fuck,” he hisses.
My hand begins to ache, my arm is close to cramping, but I continue because the expression on Étienne’s face fascinates me. Is there anything better than a powerful man losing all control?
Panting, he lifts his head and looks at me. “I have to be inside you. Right now.”
“But you can’t.”
In one smooth motion, he flips our positions so he’s looming over me again. His dick is cradled between my legs. I rub myself against him until his jaw goes slack. “Why are you torturin’ me?” he croaks.
My hands move down and curl around the hard length of him and pick up where they left off. I meet his heated gaze. “Because all is fair in love and war.”
With his weight resting on his elbow, he leans down and sucks gently on the side of my neck until my hips buck. He kisses his way down my chest; his lips move to one breast and his mouth licks the tip of my nipple until it’s a hard point. His tongue is delicious torture on my body. I never want him to stop. While he continues his ministrations on me, I do the same to him. My hand sliding down his shaft repeatedly.
“Stop.” He wraps a hand around my waist, aligning my hips with his. One smooth thrust from him and he’d be inside me. That’s all it’d take. I can’t help but rotate my hips. Étienne all but growls. His eyes shut as he fights for control. “No. Keep going.”
“Stop or keep going? Need you to make up your mind,” I whisper.
“If you keep going, I’m afraid I will lose control.”
“Perfect because I lost control minutes ago.”
I’ve built up this moment long enough. I lift my head and press my lips against his, refusing to stop kissing him until Étienne feels how much I love him and need him. Seconds pass, and my hand’s moving at a breakneck speed.
Étienne jerks his face away and scrambles to tug my chemise up, so my lower stomach is exposed.
Lifting my head, I watch him closely. The skin around his cheeks is pulled taut. He’s so close to coming.
“Oh, God.” His abs contract, and his back becomes bowed. “Serene,” he chokes.
Then his eyes close, his mouth opens, but not a word follows as he comes all over my stomach. I continue stroking him until the last drop spills out of him.
Hanging his head, Étienne takes deep, shuddering breaths before he rolls over and lies beside me. One large hand curls around my thigh.
“Amazin’,” Étienne says, breaking the silence.
“That it was,” I agree.
Suddenly, Étienne sits up. My body feels so relaxed I could close my eyes and pass out right out now. But then Étienne’s back, the mattress dipping underneath his weight. My eyes flash open when I feel something move across my stomach. Sitting up on my elbows, I find him cleaning me up with one of his dress shirts. He’s silent, brows slanted low. His serious eyes refusing to meet mine. Is he embarrassed by what he just did?
When he’s finished, he wads up the shirt and blindly tosses it to the floor. Then he grabs my hands and pulls me up. My smile is languid, and my bones have turned to jelly. If I tried to walk right now, my knees would give out.
Étienne re-positions me so my head rests on the pillow. Slowly, he pulls the straps of my chemise up and then pulls it down, covering the lower part of my body. After that, he draws up the thin sheet.
I swallow loudly and bite down on my tongue to prevent myself from telling him to stop. Not because I don’t like this. I love it. I want to tell him to stop because Étienne Lacroix is a slave to no one.
His actions screamed, See me now. Feel me now. You will always reign over my world.
He stands up and sighs. “I’ll let you get some rest.”
He turns toward the door when I softly call out, “Sleep with me, Étienne.”
Stopping in his tracks, he looks over his shoulder at me. “I’m not certain that’s a good idea.”
The time for good decisions disappeared the second he kissed me tonight. Why stop now? I’ll drown in my guilt and self-loathing tomorrow. Until then, I want to absorb every moment with him.
“Sleep with me,” I repeat.
Without a word, Étienne turns around. He walks back to his bed and lies down next to me. Immediately, I roll to my side, pressing my back to him and loving how his body naturally envelops mine.
“Thank you,” I murmur. My eyes begin to flutter shut.
“Say you love me,” he says, his voice taking on a pleading note.
I close my eyes, lace my fingers through his, and say sleepily, “I love you. I’ll always love you.”
Étienne kisses the side of my head and brushes the hair away from my face. “I’ll always love you.”
Everything after that is a blur.
The next morning, I wake up with a pounding headache. The sunlight pours in through the windows so strongly, I swear it’s ridiculing me for last night’s drunk escapades. Wincing, I tuck my tangled hair behind one ear and slowly prop myself up on my elbow. Even so, I still feel as though I might vomit at any given moment.
Precisely how much alcohol did I consume last night?
I remember walking into Belgrave and immediately starting the night with champagne. I remember all the drinks during dinner. I remember how loud Nicholas and I were and not giving a tiny rat’s ass.
Now, I’m internally cringing. Shame heavily clings to me. I rub my temples and fight the urge to lie back down and hide underneath the sheets.
I’m willing to bet I drank everyone at the rehearsal dinner under the table and then some. That doesn’t mean I got blackout drunk. Some portions of the night are spotty, but I remember ninety percent of it. Which means I remember everything that occurred when Étienne took me up to his room.
I cover my face with my hands. “Oh, God,” I mumble.
What the hell was I thinking? I can say every single day I hate Étienne, and there’s a good chance there’s a sliver of truth to that. He’s deeply hurt me with his actions, but it’s been said that when someone’s drunk, their inhibitions are lowered and their true feelings shine through.
I still love Étienne. I still want him like I need my next breath, and I hate myself for that. I’ve always prided myself on being a strong-minded woman and admitting that almost feels like a sign of weakness. How can I love someone who’s hurt me? Better yet, how can I love someone who’s engaged to someone else?
That’s the tricky part about love. The façade is so incredibly alluring that once you step into its clutches, you realize it has multifaceted layers, and when the light shines onto the surfaces, it’s not a pretty sight. You try to back out, but it’s too late to escape. One of those dark layers is the sickening realization that when you hand your heart over to someone, you automatically lose the option of yanking it back if they wound you.
You merely have to hope to God you chose right.
I picture the empty ache of where my heart once was in my chest while Étienne squeezes it tightly in his hand. Blood oozes out from between his fingers, yet he doesn’t realize it.
Outside his room, I can hear servants moving around. Their voices carry beneath the door and make me realize I have no idea what time it is. It’s Nat’s wedding day, and hungover or not, I need to get the hell out of Belgrave and back to Charleston. I’m not ashamed to admit that I’m attempting to sneak out without Étienne noticing. My embarrassment over my actions last night is bad enough. I don’t need Étienne to shine a light on them, which is precisely what he’ll do.
Ignoring my nausea and headache, I jump out of bed and snatch my dress from the floor near the window. I slide my hands through the sleeves. Without the help of someone else, buttoning up the dress is damn near impossible. I’m tempted to say fuck it and walk out of the room with it undone, but even I have my limits. Desperately, I look around the room for something to put over my dress and find one of Étienne’s dress shirt hanging on the valet stand.
“That’ll do,” I murmur and hurry across the room.
The sleeves hang off me, and the hem skims my upper thighs, but it covers my back, which is exactly what I wanted. I find my shoes neatly placed beside the bed. Apparently, someone brought them into the room at some point. Was it Étienne? I give the room a cursory glance to make sure I have everything I came in with. My gaze lingers on the bed. I’d love nothing more than to crawl back into bed, nurse my hangover, and allow time to put a salve over my shame, but I can’t.
Quietly, I open the door, keeping my head down just in case servants are in the hallway. I adjust my shoes in my hands before I turn around and make sure to softly close the door behind me and move toward the direction of the stairs.
“Are you stealin’ my shirt?”
The sound of Étienne’s voice makes me jump. My heels fall to the floor as my back hits the wall. I press a palm to my racing heart. “Holy shit. Don’t sneak up on me like that.”
“I didn’t sneak up on you. I was waitin’ for you to wake up,” he observes calmly.
I swallow and bend down to pick up my shoes, feeling the back of my dress gape open. “Oh, well. I’m up now. The room is all yours.”
Like me, Étienne leans against the wall although his posture is relaxed as if he has all the time in the world.
“What time is it?”
“Twelve thirty.”
My eyes bulge. “Are you serious? The wedding starts at three. I have to get ready and—”
“Madame Bourgeois had most of your clothes and gowns delivered to Livingston’s home this morning. I had someone pick up your bridesmaid dress and bring it here. I figured you would want to spend an intimate moment with my sister on her special day.”
“Oh.” I don’t know what to say to that. His thoughtfulness takes me by surprise and has me stumbling over my words. “Well, um, yeah. Thanks.”
He dips head in acknowledgment, his eyes never leaving mine. “How did you sleep?”
“Very good, considering I drank Belgrave out of all its alcohol.”
Étienne tilts his head back and laughs. The sound is like a punch to my gut. My fingers curl around my shoes. God, I’ve missed that sound. All too soon, it fades away, and a small smirk plays around the corners of his lips. “I’m afraid that’s impossible. Belgrave’s wine cellar has enough for a small country.”
I give him an awkward smile. “Well, that’s good to know.”
Silence stretches between us, so strained I’m convinced it’s going to detonate at any given moment. Slowly, I begin to walk back down the hall. “Okay. Well, I’ll see you later.”
Étienne pushes away from the wall and buries his hands in his pockets. When he says nothing in return, I give him my back, grateful to be done with the conversation and gaining space from him. When I’m around him, my body begins to burn and nerves tingle. My heart comes alive, and my mind shuts down. That’s never a good thing.
“You look beautiful.”
I stop dead in my tracks and face him. “Don’t humor me, Étienne.”
“I’m not, Serene. I love the way you look when you wake up.”
My stomach flip-flops at his words. “I look like death. I’m hungover. My hair more than likely resembles a rat’s nest.” I gesture to the beautiful vase on the end table near Étienne. “I could probably vomit in that if you gave me a chance.”
His lips kick up in a small grin. “You certainly drank a lot...and said a lot last night.”
My cheeks turn red with embarrassment. If I had the power to time travel, I would redo last night. What was I thinking?
“But you’re wrong. Your hair doesn’t resemble a rat’s nest. I’ve seen one before while explorin’ Belgrave’s property with Livingston when we were kids.” Étienne shakes his head. “Not a pretty sight. No, your curls become wild, but that’s why I like it. It resembles your personality and matches who you are.”
Pushing away from the wall, he reaches out and holds a piece of my hair between his fingers for a second. I hold my breath and remain perfectly still.
He’s engaged to be married. He’s engaged to be married. He’s engaged to be married.
But that didn’t stop me from taking what I wanted last night. I want to groan and drop my face into my palms. I fucked things up, and I need to make it right.
“Look. About last night...”
Étienne lifts both brows. Interest and heat flares in his eyes. He’s thinking about it, and I want to tell him to stop because I’m thinking about it now, and my hands are itching to wrap around his neck and bring his lips to mine. “What about last night?”
“Let’s not talk about it. All right?”
“You mean me comin’ on your stomach?”
My cheeks are a deep red. I know it. “Okay, that’s doing the opposite of what I just said.”
Étienne grins. “Why do you refuse to talk about it?”
“Because you’re engaged to someone else,” I say through gritted teeth and walk toward the stairs. At this point, I don’t care if the entire household sees me. I gotta go.
Étienne easily catches up to me. His hand curls around my bicep. I stop and face him.
“Do you
regret what we did?” he asks, his whip-smart eyes drilling holes into me.
“I’m single, so it’s irrelevant how I feel. Do you regret it?”
“I love you. I’ll never regret it.”
I tilt my head to the side. “You love me, yet you’re marrying someone else. That makes perfect sense to me,” I say dryly.
Étienne gently cups my chin and stares down at me. “Can you find a way to stay and never leave?”
“Don’t ask me. It’s out of my control,” I whisper, my voice breaking.
“I’m not askin’ you. I’m askin’ time.”
This has to be what hell feels like—being near the person you love, hearing them say they love you, yet knowing the universe is against the two of you being together. The heartbreak in Étienne’s eyes reveals that he realizes the same thing. He merely accepted our fate quicker than I did.
“I need you forever. Not for a moment,” he says in a low voice.
“I wish I could be your forever. I really do.” I exhale a shaky breath as I slip out of Étienne’s grasp.
Étienne’s hand falls heavily to his side as he watches me go. He swallows heavily and shakes his head before he clears his throat. “Nat sent me up here. She’s in her room already yellin’ at her maid and panickin’ that everything is gonna go wrong today. She asked for you.”
I’m clutching my shoes so tightly in my hands I’m surprised I don’t cut off the circulation in my fingers. Wordlessly, I nod and walk away even though it’s the last thing I want to do.
My steps are confident as I walk down the main hall of Belgrave. Two servants carrying fresh linens take one look at my attire and quickly avert their eyes. Like the first time I arrived, I find myself not caring, and if anything, I smile. The gesture makes me feel more solid in myself. There’s something extraordinary about Belgrave. It’s more than a home. These walls hold the secrets and laughter of past generations. Hundreds of feet have walked down this very hall, yet it seems made for me.
For the first time in my life, my heart and mind scream in unison, you belong here!
I would love to appease them both. God, would I ever. The only problem is I don’t know how.
