When I'm with You (Because You Are Mine 2)

“Lucien,” she whispered feelingly. “You are your own man.”

A small smile pulled at his lips. “I know. Thanks to you, I have coached myself in that concept for years now. I think it’s been my saving grace. As terrible of a blow as it was for me to find out about Trevor Gaines, I think it might have been a thousand times worse for Ian, without the inoculation you and I had.” He gave her a soulful glance. “You and I had struggled on that path before. We both had to do battle with the idea that we chose our own destiny, that our parents didn’t determine who we are.”

“There has never been another person I’ve ever met in my whole life who is as unique as you.”

His jaw went tight. He stepped toward her at the same moment she stepped toward him, and then she was in his arms, her cheek pressed to his chest, inhaling his scent. It truly was a miracle, being in his embrace.

“It really is like holding on to sunlight, hugging you,” he said gruffly near her ear. “You make the shadows fly.”

“Why have you been so cold since you went away?” she asked in a muffled voice near his chest after she’d quieted the surge of emotion she experienced at his words.

“When I called once I’d reached London, I was cautious. Uncertain. And you sounded so distant. I wondered if I was correct, to worry about telling you.”

“You worried about telling me about Gaines?”

“Everything I said earlier about doubting myself in regard to telling Ian, I worried about a thousand times worse with you. I wanted to . . . but it seemed like such a toxic thing to spill. That secret along with my mission to find my mother has kept me from intimacy for years now. It never plagued me more than it did with you.”

His naked pain flipped a switch in her. She hugged him tighter, like she thought her embrace truly could keep him safe from all the shadows in his life.

“I’m sorry for not telling you the truth,” he said. “You must think I’m a hypocrite, for always encouraging you to be honest.”

She shook her head against his chest. “No, I understand. You’d held on to that painful truth for so long. No . . . you’d contained it inside you. It’s natural that you would worry about loosing it onto the world, onto people you care about. And as for the other, you were right to encourage me to speak the truth. We both know it. I’d lived a life of lies and provocations and manipulations for too long. You gave me the limit I needed. You knew very well I would have done just about anything—risked anything—for you, including learning a little self-restraint and loads of self-respect,” she said in a strangled voice.

She inhaled, trying to breathe past the constricting band around her chest, and looked into his face.

“I love you. How’s that for honesty? How’s that for a risk?” she asked, laughing, a tear skittering down her cheek. “How’s that for trusting in myself?”

His expression flattened; his nostrils flared. He abruptly seized her mouth with his own . . . and Elise was submerged in the truth, swimming in it, and she’d never felt so less afraid of drowning.

“Do you mind?” he asked hoarsely a moment later when he bent and hooked the backs of her legs with his forearm, and he was carrying her toward the stairs, his gaze fiery.

“I’d mind if you didn’t,” she whispered next to this throat.

* * *

Minutes later, they lay naked on the bed together, Lucien on top, their bellies heaving together. He’d pinned her wrists above her head, his gaze never leaving her face as he slid his cock into her, and they fused. She shuddered. The sensation was poignant . . . powerful . . . as sharp as a knife blade. He remained motionless, poised on the sharp edge of desire, relishing it, wanting it to end in crashing, delicious pleasure and wanting it to last forever.

Wanting to stay one with her forever.

“I love you,” he said, emotion and raw desire making his voice harsher than he intended. “I think I’ve always loved you. Not in the way I do now, but still . . . you have always been in my heart. You are the heart of me, Elise.”

She stared up at him, rapt, and he was struck anew by her luminous spirit.

“Tell me what you need.”

“I need you,” she whispered.

His cock throbbed unbearably in her clasping sheath. He tightened his hold on her wrists and moved. They both gasped at the sharp pleasure. He stilled again, determined to make the moment last. He opened his eyes and met her stare. He palmed her jaw, wondering yet again at the softness of her skin. He would draw this out . . . stay perched on this exquisite cliff of pleasure for hours, keeping them tied together for as long as God would allow a mere mortal man.

She squeezed him with her vaginal muscles and he winced in pleasure, groaning and stroking her even though he hadn’t meant to. She tempted him so sorely . . .

“I will never teach you discipline,” he rasped, fucking her with long, forceful strokes. “It was a losing battle from day one.”

“I’m sorry.”

“You are not. And neither am I. I wouldn’t have you any other way,” he managed before he took them higher, and all rational thought was forgotten.

* * *

Afterward, they lay as close as two people can get, their breath slowing together until it blended into a lazy, hypnotic synchrony, his penis still inside her. He felt her warm, soft body jump slightly beneath him and lifted his head to study her startled, perspiration-sheened features.

“What of your mother? Francesca told me that Helen was able to give you her name before she passed away. I thought you’d leave immediately for Morocco to find her!”