He opened her jeans and pushed them down her hips, and Sophie wriggled out of them, along with her lace knickers as Lucien lifted the quilt for her to join him beneath it. God, yes. Yes please.
They both groaned with pleasure as their naked bodies aligned. He was rock hard as he blanketed her body with his own, and Sophie opened her thighs to accommodate him between them. Lucien rested his forearms either side of her head, her hands in his.
"Don't close your eyes," he said as he crooked his knee and tipped his hips forwards. Sophie watched his face as her body welcomed him in. She saw his pupils dilate with intense carnal pleasure, and she saw his hunger for more as he started to move inside her. She had more to give him. So much more.
"Deeper," she said, snaking her tongue over his parted lips.
Lucien's fingers tightened around hers, and she closed her eyes as he pulled his hips back to give her what she'd asked for.
"Open your eyes," he said, and she opened them wide as he thrust himself into her body, making her gasp. "Like this?" He thrust again, lazy triumph mingling with the lust in his eyes. "Like this, princess?" He moved up a little so that his cock slid over her clitoris with every steady stroke.
"Yes..." Sophie's hips rose to meet his each time, to gather him in. "Yes..."
She trembled, pinned down, never wanting to get up again. He knew she was right on the edge, and he lowered his head and kissed her slowly, his gaze never wavering from hers.
"I want to watch you," he whispered. "Let me see."
He let go of her fingers to cradle her cheek as her body tightened and her breathing shallowed, and Sophie could see the fierce concentration in his eyes as he held back his own orgasm to watch hers.
It was too much. She loved him so much. Tears welled in her eyes as her body gave itself up for him, wave after beautiful, pleasurable wave. He kissed her damp cheeks and rocked her in his arms, her name his mantra as his climax rushed from his body into hers.
Sophie was a long, long way from London, yet right here in this man's arms, she was home.
Chapter Thirty-Six
"What is this again?" Sophie asked as she drew the heavy red casserole dish out of the oven in the lodge's huge kitchen. It was well after ten, and they were both hungry for food now that their appetite for each other had been sated.
"Lapskaus," Lucien said, opening a high cupboard and reaching down two bowls. "It's Norwegian stew. You'll like it."
The simple act of preparing dinner together was calming for both of them. Lucien set out cutlery and glasses on the table as Sophie ladled the stew into bowls, placing them down alongside a basket of flat bread and the bottle of red wine that Lucien had just opened.
Divine, hearty smells rose from her bowl as Sophie took her place at the small table.
A thought struck her as she dipped her spoon into the rich stew. "This isn't reindeer, is it?"
Lucien lifted a sardonic eyebrow. "Don't worry princess. You're not eating Rudolph." He twisted a little salt over his bowl. "We'll do that tomorrow. He's delicious."
Sophie didn't mind the gentle mockery. She felt gladdened to hear him sounding more like his normal self. Instead she closed her eyes to savour the heavenly food. Lucien's housekeeper was fast becoming one of her favourite people; not only was she seriously kind, she was a culinary genius.
An easy atmosphere of mutual appreciation settled over them as they ate. They spoke of nothing of any great relevance, even though there was so much to be said. For those few minutes they were content just to share the quiet space and the soul nourishing food, gazing out over the dark winter landscape outside and catching their breath.
Lucien poured two generous measures of cognac into the crystal glasses on the kitchen work surface, his mind on the woman waiting for him beside the fire in the next room. Sophie was here. She'd come to him, even though he'd thrown her love back in her face in London. He knew he'd hurt her very badly, yet still she'd found her way here to stand beside him without hesitation. Up until Sophie's arrival he hadn't allowed himself to stop and acknowledge the magnitude of the situation with his father; he'd become so accustomed to his role as the estranged son that he didn't know how to be anything other. The idea of going to see him at the hospital filled him with unspeakable dread. Would they even recognise each other? In Lucien's memories his father was larger than life, a big man with an equally big personality, a big and oppressive influence in the background of his life, whether Lucien liked it or not.
He picked the glasses up with a sigh and went through to the lounge, relieved beyond words to have Sophie there. She didn't respond to him as he came through the door, and he stilled for a second. Dressed in one of his shirts because her luggage was still at her hotel in the city, she'd curled up on the end of the sofa to watch the fire and nodded off to sleep.
He wasn't surprised. She'd travelled most of the day to get here, she couldn't have had much rest over the last couple of days. Planes, buses and taxis, she'd said. The idea of Sophie negotiating all of that on her own to get to him blew his mind. She'd joked back in London that she had trouble reading tube maps; how the hell she'd managed Norwegian bus timetables he had no clue. But then she was Sophie Black, the girl who surprised him. He'd never met anyone quite like her before. On first glance she was quiet and unassuming, but scratch the surface and she was spectacular.
He placed the tumblers down and lowered himself to the floor beside the sofa. The last time they'd been together at the lodge had been very different. He'd brought Sophie here then to seduce her, to teach her, and ultimately to free her. Or that had been his perception of it. He saw now that he'd got it wrong, in some parts at least. Seducing Sophie had been a mutual pleasure and she'd proved herself an excellent and very willing pupil, but when it came to freeing her he'd failed dismally. He'd freed her from one cheating man, only for her to fall in love with another who couldn't or wouldn't give her what she deserved.
And there lay the heart of the problem. He didn't want to let her go so that she could find the man who could and would give her all of those things. The idea of another man laying his hands on her made his heart stop and his fists itch. He wanted to keep her for himself. He'd tried to let her go, he really had, but he just didn't have it in him to send her away this time. He wanted her here. Needed her, even. It made him all kinds of selfish, but having her close by made things feel right, even when all else in the world seemed wrong.
He studied her face. Everything about the girl was lovely, from the pink tinge in her creamy cheeks to the full, kissable curve of her mouth. She looked innocent and sinful all at once, because he knew just how capable she was of using that mouth to drive him out of his mind with lust. His need for her wasn't going away. The more she gave him the more he wanted; he was well and truly addicted.