help him, but my mind keeps coming up blank.
“ What
do you want to eat?” I ask, glancing down at his knee.
Today he's wearing
gray slacks and a white button-down shirt and a gray silk tie. I
would probably be lusting over him if the mood wasn't so grim. It's a
big time hormone kill, but that doesn't really matter right now. All
that matters is making sure he's going to be alright.
“ You
can order us whatever you want. I'm not really hungry, which is why I
didn't want you to cook.”
“ Oh.”
I wish he would have just told me that over the phone. Then again, I
can understand why this was something better said in person.
I reach up to smooth
down his hair before caressing his face, drawing his attention to me.
“Tonight is all about you, alright. We're going to do whatever
you want to do. We don't have to do anything at all. We don't have to
talk about what happened last night. We can just sit here if that's
what you want.”
A solemn smile
creases his lips and he takes my hand in his, giving it a gentle
squeeze. “Thanks, Amy. I appreciate it.”
“ Would
you like to watch television? We have the History Channel.”
Keeping his mind distracted would probably be the best thing.
“ Sure.
Mind if I take my shoes off?” He begins taking them off before
even waiting for my reply.
“ Get
comfortable.” I reach forward and grab the remote off of the
coffee table, flipping on the television and cycling through to the
History Channel, since I don't have it memorized.
There's a
documentary on Nostradamus. I'm sure it's going to bore me to death,
but I don't really care. I'm just happy that Lucian came over and
that hopefully we can do some healing, even if we don't discuss
things.
Once Lucian has his
shoes off, he brings his feet up onto the couch. It takes me a second
to realize that he wants to lie down and use my lap as a pillow. I
mirthfully oblige, scooting to the far edge of the sofa.
Understanding that
he probably doesn't want to talk anymore, I lean back and try to
focus on the show. There are several historians discussing the
four-hundred-year-old prophecy of the Roman Popes. Just listening to
them yammering on about something I care nothing about is making me
sleepy. Lazily, I rake my fingertips through Lucian's hair, hoping to
soothe him.
Just before sleep is
about to take me, I glance down to check on Lucian. To my surprise,
he's staring up at me. His eyes are hooded though not with
exhaustion.
Very slowly, he
begins to sit up, his face tilted towards mine. I smile softly before
leaning down to kiss him, our lips tenderly molding together.
He rises the rest of
the way and scoots over next to me, his arm sneaking around my back
to pull me against him. I don't resist, completely lost in the
moment. My core heats up like someone just flipped a switch. Knowing
that he's so emotionally vulnerable does something to me, makes me
feel a deeper desire for him.
His fingertips
gently whisper across my cheek, and I lean into his touch, moaning
softly. When he kisses me this time, it's deeper, more urgent. My
fingers almost instinctively move to loosen his tie. I need to feel
his body on top of mine. Good God, do I ever need this.
I break free from
the kiss, my hand sliding down the front of his silk tie. “We
should go to my room.”
“ Should
we?” he asks, a hint of the man I knew before breathed back
into his voice.
“ Mhm.”
I nod, standing and curling my fingers around his tie to lead him to
my room. He follows obediently, keeping close. At one point, he
accidentally steps on my heel, but it just makes me giggle, though
laughing feels inappropriate given what he just shared with me.
By the time we make
it to my room, he's all lust. He turns me around and cages me in his
arms, kissing me passionately. I'm surprised that he doesn't even
take a second to look around. He's only interested in me.
I catch my breath as
he unbuttons my blouse, my eyes fixed on the broad expanse of his
chest. As soon
“ What
do you want to eat?” I ask, glancing down at his knee.
Today he's wearing
gray slacks and a white button-down shirt and a gray silk tie. I
would probably be lusting over him if the mood wasn't so grim. It's a
big time hormone kill, but that doesn't really matter right now. All
that matters is making sure he's going to be alright.
“ You
can order us whatever you want. I'm not really hungry, which is why I
didn't want you to cook.”
“ Oh.”
I wish he would have just told me that over the phone. Then again, I
can understand why this was something better said in person.
I reach up to smooth
down his hair before caressing his face, drawing his attention to me.
“Tonight is all about you, alright. We're going to do whatever
you want to do. We don't have to do anything at all. We don't have to
talk about what happened last night. We can just sit here if that's
what you want.”
A solemn smile
creases his lips and he takes my hand in his, giving it a gentle
squeeze. “Thanks, Amy. I appreciate it.”
“ Would
you like to watch television? We have the History Channel.”
Keeping his mind distracted would probably be the best thing.
“ Sure.
Mind if I take my shoes off?” He begins taking them off before
even waiting for my reply.
“ Get
comfortable.” I reach forward and grab the remote off of the
coffee table, flipping on the television and cycling through to the
History Channel, since I don't have it memorized.
There's a
documentary on Nostradamus. I'm sure it's going to bore me to death,
but I don't really care. I'm just happy that Lucian came over and
that hopefully we can do some healing, even if we don't discuss
things.
Once Lucian has his
shoes off, he brings his feet up onto the couch. It takes me a second
to realize that he wants to lie down and use my lap as a pillow. I
mirthfully oblige, scooting to the far edge of the sofa.
Understanding that
he probably doesn't want to talk anymore, I lean back and try to
focus on the show. There are several historians discussing the
four-hundred-year-old prophecy of the Roman Popes. Just listening to
them yammering on about something I care nothing about is making me
sleepy. Lazily, I rake my fingertips through Lucian's hair, hoping to
soothe him.
Just before sleep is
about to take me, I glance down to check on Lucian. To my surprise,
he's staring up at me. His eyes are hooded though not with
exhaustion.
Very slowly, he
begins to sit up, his face tilted towards mine. I smile softly before
leaning down to kiss him, our lips tenderly molding together.
He rises the rest of
the way and scoots over next to me, his arm sneaking around my back
to pull me against him. I don't resist, completely lost in the
moment. My core heats up like someone just flipped a switch. Knowing
that he's so emotionally vulnerable does something to me, makes me
feel a deeper desire for him.
His fingertips
gently whisper across my cheek, and I lean into his touch, moaning
softly. When he kisses me this time, it's deeper, more urgent. My
fingers almost instinctively move to loosen his tie. I need to feel
his body on top of mine. Good God, do I ever need this.
I break free from
the kiss, my hand sliding down the front of his silk tie. “We
should go to my room.”
“ Should
we?” he asks, a hint of the man I knew before breathed back
into his voice.
“ Mhm.”
I nod, standing and curling my fingers around his tie to lead him to
my room. He follows obediently, keeping close. At one point, he
accidentally steps on my heel, but it just makes me giggle, though
laughing feels inappropriate given what he just shared with me.
By the time we make
it to my room, he's all lust. He turns me around and cages me in his
arms, kissing me passionately. I'm surprised that he doesn't even
take a second to look around. He's only interested in me.
I catch my breath as
he unbuttons my blouse, my eyes fixed on the broad expanse of his
chest. As soon
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