His entire body vibrated. “No.”
“You asked me what I want, Lucas.” I stepped closer. Nervous, still, but sure of this. Still sure ofhim. “You keep asking me what I want.”
With one finger, I drew a line down his chest, through the divot between his pectorals, past his abs, all the way to his navel.
“I don’t know what happens when we go back to New York. But right now, I know what I want without a shred of doubt. And that’s you. You see me, Lucas Lyons, don’t you?”
His eyes were scrunched tight now. “I—yes. Yes, I fucking do.”
“Well, I see you too.”
I stood on my toes, allowing the curves of my body to graze his chiseled form. The tips of my breasts to tease his torso, thighs to touch the hardened muscles of his legs.
“Lucas.” My lips whispered over his jaw. “You wanted me to beg. Well, here I am.” I licked his lower lip. Took it between my teeth and nibbled. “Please.”
Some coil of restraint snapped. With a low growl, he surged forward and banded one arm around my waist, the other hand threading into my hair as his mouth crashed down on mine. Onesecond, I was consumed there in the hall; the next, I was dragged into the room before he kicked the door shut behind us.
“You beautiful fucking thing, you,” he panted. “You’re going to ruin me. You’re going to be the goddamndeathof me.”
The kiss was all teeth and tongue and desperation, like he couldn’t get close enough, fast enough. He groaned like a dying animal as his hands traveled down to my hips, taking full palmfuls of flesh and kneading hard.
The room itself was simple but elegant, with white linens and the warm glow from a single bedside lamp. I barely noticed any of it as Lucas picked me up and carried me to the bed.
“This is wrong,” he grunted as my legs hit the mattress and his erection pressed against me through the towel. “I shouldn’t be doing this.”
My legs wrapped around his waist of their own accord, urging him closer as the vulnerability in his voice made my heart ache. This powerful man, who commanded boardrooms and built empires, was afraid.
I wound my arms around his neck and pulled him down for another torrid mouthful, conscious that there was only one piece of fabric between us. “I ambegging, Lucas.”
For that, I received another pained groan and was swept up into another mind-melting kiss. His hands tangled in my wet hair, and I could taste the remnants of salt and soap on his skin.
These kisses differed from our first in the conservatory. Or the others in Japan, or even this morning in his bed. Those had been tinged with confusion and the shock of unexpected attraction. Perhaps even a bit of guilt.
This moment, however, was intentional. I was making this choice with a clear head and conscience.
But Lucas wasn’t quite there yet.
“Wait.” His breath was shredded as he set me apart from him. “Wait. I can’t—I know I said in Japan and this morningthat it doesn’t have to mean anything, but, Marie, it does mean something. It means something tome, goddammit.”
My heart squeezed. I could see the war playing out across his features—want battling fear.
I sat up on the bed. “I—and you think it doesn’t matter to me?”
“Fuck,” he murmured as his gaze took me in, making no attempt to hide his open appreciation of my breasts, thighs, and the thatch of black curls between my legs that he’d obviously known was there but had never seen completely. Not like this.
With obvious effort, he tore his gaze back up to meet mine.
“What about Daniel?” he demanded. “Are you still in love with my brother?”
The name and the direct question made me flinch.
Yes, what about Daniel? Just a few weeks ago, I still thought he was my soulmate. The love of my life. Someone I was destined to grow old with.
And yet, what had those dreams been, if not another form of make-believe, a fantasy I’d carried for ten years like a talisman?
That fantasy had been eroding since we’d sat next to each other on the plane.
The phone calls. The text messages. The partying. The drinking.
