"Good morning, Mr.Knight."
This self-possessed creature was a world away from the soft, vulnerable woman he'd held in his arms on Saturday evening. It was as if it hadn't happened. She passed behind him as he inclined his head, and her scent had him closing his eyes as she disappeared into her own office.
Fuck. This was impossible.
He'd turned her words over and over in his mind since he'd left her sleeping.
She'd said she loved him. Had she even realised that she’d said it, or who she was saying it to? They'd been in her bed, and God knows she'd been drifting half way to sleep. She hadn't said his name. Had she assumed he was her bastard of a husband?
The idea had made him hurl his brandy glass at the wall in frustration late last night. But then the thought that she'd known perfectly well who she was talking to came with a set of problems all of its own. She couldn't love him. He'd made it perfectly clear all the way through. She couldn't love him. He'd put his cards on the table early. She couldn't love him.
He threw his pen down and stalked into her office.
Sophie deliberately didn't react straight away when Lucien came in. She had her back to him as she stood at the filing cabinet, which she rolled slowly closed before turning to find him sitting in the chair opposite hers at her desk. He looked pent up, unusually edgy. As well he might, fresh from sneaking into women's bedrooms in the dead of night.
She approached the desk, and found herself perching on the edge of it next to him rather than taking her own seat.
"Good weekend?" she asked, running the tip of her tongue over her lips.
He swallowed noticeably then nodded, a small tight movement that involved the lightest lift of his eyebrows.
She had no clue what she was doing, apart from trying to draw a reaction from him.
She'd spent yesterday thinking about him, trying to hold onto the memory of every blissful second of his late night visit to her bed. He'd been so different. So close. So loving. But she knew him well enough by now though to understand that he'd compromised himself, broken his own emotional rules. She also knew him well enough to appreciate that he'd be beating himself up for it.
Letting his guard down wasn't something Lucien did, but wow, the intensity of stealing behind those barriers with him for a little while had burned itself on her heart.
She wanted to get in there again.
"Is there anything special you'd like me to do today, Mr. Knight?"
Lucien's eyes flickered to her legs as she crossed them, knowing full well that he'd get a glimpse of her stocking top. She'd dressed for him this morning, her body and mind aglow with the knowledge that she was going to see him again.
"Sophie..."
"Oh, hang on a sec." She leaned back across her desk for her pen, a slow, full stretch that inched the hem of her skirt higher and pulled her dress taut over her breasts.
Lucien cleared his throat. When she glanced back at him he was no longer defensive, resistant, at her mercy. His eyes had regained the unmistakable look of the predator, and she knew she had him where she wanted him.
He reached out and slid her along the desk until she was in front of him. "About the other night, Sophie." He sighed heavily, longingly, and eased her skirt up her thighs until he was satisfied with his view of her suspenders.
She popped a button on his shirt open, letting her fingers linger on the hollow at the base of his throat. "I thought I'd dreamt you."
He parted her knees and smoothed his hands up to her thighs, stroking his thumbs over the clips on her stockings.
"I shouldn't have come." He flicked them both open at once and rolled his chair closer between her legs.
"I'm glad you did," Sophie said softly, watching his hands stroke over the top of her stockings. "You were very, very sexy."
He pushed her skirt up until he could see her knickers. "You're very, very sexy right now." He stroked the satin barrier that covered her sex, watching her eyes. "Do you remember everything?"
At that precise moment, Sophie was struggling to remember her own name.
"I think so..." His finger teased along the edge of the material and she silently begged him to slide it underneath. "You were pretty unforgettable."
Lucien stood up and pulled her close, his hand hot between her legs.
"You said something to me." He pushed his fingers inside her knickers, making her gasp.
"I know." She worked another button open on his shirt and dipped her head to kiss the skin she'd exposed.
"Don't say it again," he murmured against her ear, drawing spirals on her clitoris with his fingertip. "Because I won't say it back."
Sophie lifted her mouth from the jumping pulse in his neck, her fingers on his belt. "I know that too."
He kissed her then as she freed his cock into her waiting hands, one hand behind her head, the other moving her underwear aside to make way for him.
Sophie opened her eyes and found his open too, storm blue and full of things he'd never say. He thrust forwards into her, swift and urgent, clamping her against him. His gaze never wavered, connecting with her as much with his eyes as his body.
He filled her. He filled her body with his, deeper with every push, and he filled her ears with his low, shallow breaths. He was going to come soon; this wasn't slow and prolonged sex. It was urgent and beautiful fucking.
She tensed and tipped her head back as her own orgasm hit, and Lucien dragged her into him as his hips jerked.
"I don't love you," he ground out, biting her lip.
Sophie wound her arms around his neck, her fingers in his hair as she kissed him gently. "I don't love you either," she whispered, holding him close and rocking the last ebbs of pleasure out of him. "I don't love you either."
Chapter Twenty-Six
Sophie had a problem.
Lucien Knight wasn't just her rebound guy.
He wasn't just the man who'd made her feel beautiful and desired when she needed it most.
He wasn't just her screwed up, sensational lover.
She was in big, big trouble, because she'd fallen head over heels in love with the one man who'd expressly told her not to.
Lucien had a problem.
He was in over his head with Sophie Black.
Every morning he told himself he wasn't going to screw her anymore, and then she walked into his office and his only thought was when and how soon could he get close to her again. On her desk. Under his desk. In his car. He'd had her everywhere over the last few weeks, and still he wanted more, more, more.
He had to end this thing. He didn't know how to do it, or how to go back to life without Sophie in it, but he needed to find the way, and fast, because she was soft, and vulnerable, and he sensed that this had gone beyond just physical for her now.