Page 40 of Sacrifice
“Deux, merci.”
The waiter shimmied back through the forest of tables to the counter.
“Is there anyone you don’t know?”
Lucien shrugged. “People warm to me. What can I say? I’ve been coming here for a long time.”
By the timethey returned to the Chateau, night had descended in earnest and lights burned at its windows. Their approach along the drive, flanked by lawns that sparkled with frost, felt to Eve like the arrival at a fairytale castle. Its beautiful architecture and tall windows oozed with the magic she’d felt building all day.
Sweeping up the steps, hand in hand with Lucien felt ridiculously surreal. It was the kind of moment where people talked about pinching themselves. She wasn’t going to do that. If this was a dream, Eve had zero desire to wake up.
Lucien led her upstairs to his suite and popped the cork from a bottle of champagne that had been waiting for them in an ice bucket. Cogs had been moving behind the scenes. He had to have messaged ahead. He really had thought of everything. She drifted to the window and looked out over the stunningly illuminated grounds and he came to her side to kiss her softly on the neck.
“This place is beautiful,” she whispered.
“Youare beautiful,” he sighed into her hair. Lucien’s hands moved to the back of her neck and his fingers entwined in the hair at the nape of her neck. He kissed her jaw, her cheek, the tip of her nose, her lips. Softly. Searching. She tipped her head to kiss him back.
Light faded around them. Shadows stretched and darkness washed over them. Lucien filled the space. He wrapped himselfaround her, her consciousness wrapped as if by the wings of a bird. He carried her to the bed.
They kissed more fiercely now, and her clothes just seemed to melt away. Skin on skin. Heat and energy flowed between them. Their bubble of intimacy shut out the world and absorbed her utterly. Lucien filled her vision and her thoughts.
“I’ve spent my life collecting treasures, Eve, yet none have ever left me breathless. And now, here you are, undoing me with every glance. Tell me, how is it you’ve stolen every last shred of my self-control?”
Eve sighed as he sank to kiss her neck, her collarbone, her breast. He ran his tongue around her nipple, tightening it into an electrified bud. “Being here with you is like a dream. It’s like nothing else exists, just us.” She’d thought it but hadn’t had the confidence to tell him. Until now.
His hands ran over skin, his breath on her stomach, soft lips kissing a trail from breast to hip. Lucien’s fingertips played along her inner thigh, tracing circles that his tongue followed close behind. He brushed his hand over the mound of her pussy, pressing down the heel of his palm to find her pushing back.
“Tell me, Eve... what do you feel right now?”
Eve closed her eyes and tilted her head back into the pillow. Lucien’s whole body pulsated with energy, producing a thrill of vibration wherever their skin touched. His hand pressed against her sent a wave of sensation outside to in. She spread her legs wider to open herself up to him.
He growled his approval and bent to caress her with his mouth. Tongue lapping against her clit, he dipped fingertips inside. Heat and desire thrilled at her core. She moaned at the intensity. His mouth closed over her clit to suck, gently as first, but in rising pulses. Her hips rose without command to meet him and his fingers slid inside, brushing against her need for him. The combination spun her senses.
Lucien seemed to know the sensations he created within her, could predict the climb of pleasure in the exquisite twists and turns of their union. He knew what she wanted before she could imagine it. He plucked at her strings like a musician united with his instrument at a cellular level, and the music they created was unlike anything Eve had ever experienced before.
The raw heat of their previous encounters was replaced with a tenderness that flickered deliciously with undeniable passion. Eve was lost to his power, consumed by his will. She was his instrument to play.
Lucien’s question remained unanswered and suddenly she became aware of it again. He had asked, ‘What do you feel?’
The answer was plain. It was there, like a truth she’d always known.
“I love you,” she said. “I love you.”
Twenty-Three
Eve paddeddown the grand staircase and across the worn stone of the hallway to drop her bag by the door.
“Lucien?”
Her voice echoed in the voluminous space. The chateau was silent but for the occasional creak and groan of its ancient wooden beams. She peered into the room to her right.
“Lucien, you in here?”
Silence. That was odd. She'd expected him to be waiting.
It was a sitting room of grand proportions. Large windows overlooked the estate’s sprawling grounds, currently covered in a glistening blanket of snow. Winter sunshine crept across the deep-pile rugs and refracted in the crystals of a chandelier.
She didn’t know what she’d expected from Lucien’s home from home, but somehow the immense age of the place suited him. It was beautiful and intricately layered with personality and art. She wandered deeper into the space, running her hand along an antique wooden dresser and admiring the tapestries and paintings that hung artfully on the walls. She examined one.
