He didn't want to go back to being Mr. Knight, Sophie's boss. He wanted her to keep calling him by his first name, and to keep kissing him, and to keep letting him bury himself inside her.
He rolled his shoulders, the memory of Sophie's hands on his cock as he washed his body. Christ, just thinking about her had him hard. How could someone so delicate and soft hold him as completely as she had on that armchair? Cradled in her warm smooth limbs, Lucien had found something he had no name for. Plenty of women had got him off in the past with their pretty mouths and experienced fingers. But with Sophie... it wasn't just physical.
They were colleagues, but this wasn't professional compatibility.
They were friends, of sorts, but this wasn't just friendship.
She'd had him on the ropes out there earlier. Her hand under his, her pleasure drawn from his pleasure, giving without taking back. She was good, and generous, and wholesome. And she confused the hell out of him. Since when had he been attracted to wholesome?
Theirs was a closeness that went way beyond physical proximity.
She was under his skin.
Moving closer to his heart.
He just didn't know it yet, because no one else had ever found the pathway in before.
Lucien eased the Aston Martin to a stop outside Sophie's small house and turned off the engine so as not to wake the neighbours.
Their final day in Paris had been mercifully busy with meetings, calls and negotiations, facilitated by Sophie, who proved her worth anew as a resourceful PA as they raced to meet deadlines and finalise paperwork. Even their flight home had been dominated by the presence of the Carmichaels who were bound for meetings in London.
Finally still and alone in the car, they'd lapsed into pensive silence. Sophie broke it first, staring fixedly out of the window at her own front door.
"So what happens now?"
Her expression was as heavy as the clouds outside. Lucien didn't need her to elaborate on her question, because he'd been expecting it.
"We carry on as usual."
She paused for a beat. "You mean 'what happens in Paris stays in Paris', and all that?"
No. He'd dropped her here on this doorstep after their trip to Norway and let her walk away. He wasn't doing that again.
"It's not where we are in the world that matters, Sophie. We've had sex in London too, remember? In my club. In my house." He glanced towards Sophie's home. "In yours too, if you want."
She shook her head, her face turned away from him. Look at me.
"I'm not done with you yet," he said. "There’s a whole lot more still out there for us, if we want it. Are you done with me?"
Still she didn't speak, and still she didn't look at him. He wasn't sure he wasn't screwing this up, or if the words coming out of his mouth reflected the thoughts going on inside his head, but the truth was that he didn't have any better words. He had nothing to offer Sophie in terms of promises or commitment, and there weren't cutesy tags to apply to this thing happening between them.
Friends with benefits? The euphemism made his lip curl.
They were lovers, except without the love.
It was about sex. Amazing, fantastic, not-ready-to-walk-away-from-it-yet sex. A coming together. Quite literally.
"Just come to work on Monday, Sophie. No running, okay?'
Finally, she looked at him, her big blue eyes shadowed by the lateness of the hour.
"I'll be there."
Relief flooded his body when she reached out her hand and placed it on his chest.
He covered it briefly with his own, and then drew her into him.
Sophie's lips opened for his, an invitation to linger, and to savour. Lucien sighed with pleasure as he moulded her curves to his body, as far as possible in the confined space of the car.
"Are you sure you don't want me to come in?" he muttered against her mouth. She tasted delicious, and he wanted to keep her in his mouth and his hands. Every time he touched her she did this, made him crave more of the feeling that her nearness gave him.
She eased her head back from his. "Not tonight, okay?"
He sighed and pushed a hand through his hair as frustration spiked him. Then he laughed softly and shook his head. Sophie fucking Black. She had him acting like an over-eager teen dropping his date home from the prom.
"You've got the count of three to get out of my car. Any more, and I'll have you on your front lawn."
"That would give the neighbours something to talk about." The lightness of Sophie's tone was reassuring. She'd be there on Monday, and that was enough for now.
"One," he growled.
A flicker of amusement kinked her lips, and a second later she leaned in and kissed him briefly, lingering just enough for her tongue to touch his.
"Goodnight, Lucien."
He swallowed hard. "Two."
Sophie reached out and stroked a hand down his face. "Thank you for Paris. I loved it."
He ought to say 'three' and wake up her neighbours for her impudence, but the tenderness of her words and her hands wiped the word from his lips. He pressed a kiss against her palm.
"Goodnight princess."
He watched her in, and shook his head as she turned on the doorstep and blew him a kiss.
"Three," he murmured to himself, regretfully, then turned the engine over.
Inside the house, Sophie leaned against the door and listened to the sound of Lucien leaving, belatedly realising that she'd left her case in the back of the Aston.
She placed her fingers against her lips, closing her eyes and smiling as she remembered his kiss there.
Beyond tired now that she was alone, Sophie checked the answerphone more out of habit than necessity. No flashing red light. No messages. Dan was moving on, just as she was.
She locked the door and contemplated a late night cup of tea, but the lure of bed won over. She couldn't have asked Lucien in here tonight, and not just because this was her marital home. He'd exhausted her. She needed to sleep.
Unbuttoning her blouse as she moved upstairs, she paused by the bathroom door and tried to work up the energy to shower as she stepped out of her clothes. It was no good. She was dead on her feet, and her comfortable duvet was too close to resist. She didn't need lights to guide her in the familiar bedroom, and sank between the sheets with a bone weary sigh.
Then she froze.
There was a man in her bed.
Chapter Twenty-Two
He reached for her naked body, and for the briefest of disorientated seconds, Sophie wondered how Lucien could suddenly be here in her bed.
But the chest under her hands was a little less broad, and the hands skimming down her back a little smoother. Achingly familiar, and yet all very, very wrong.