Chapter 113 Once We Start, I'm Not Stopping
Briar's POV
Lucian's arms loosened around me, but only so he could pull me properly into his lap, settling me against his chest with my back to his front. His chin came to rest on top of my head and his voice rumbled through me when he spoke.
"Tell me what happened tonight."
I leaned back into him and let myself relax for the first time in hours. The garage was quiet except for the distant hum of the building's ventilation system. I started talking, keeping my voice steady as I walked him through finding the shovel, smashing Julian's car window, the way he'd tried to run me down before I beat him with the iron handle.
When I finished, Lucian was silent for a long moment. Then he said quietly, "You didn't hit him hard enough."
Something in my chest loosened at that. I turned my head to look at him and found his expression unreadable in the dim light filtering in from the parking garage entrance.
The overhead light suddenly flickered on, probably triggered by a motion sensor, and Lucian shifted slightly so he could see my face better. His gaze went immediately to my left cheek and his entire body went rigid beneath me.
"Who hit you?"
"Diane," I said quickly, before he could spiral. "But I hit her back. Twice. Hard enough that she'll feel it for a while."
Lucian's jaw worked but he didn't say anything. His hand came up slowly and his palm settled against my cheek, warm and careful. I could feel the tension vibrating through him, the effort it was taking him not to react the way he wanted to.
I caught his wrist and held it there. "I got my forty percent back. The shares Marcus signed over to them." I paused, then added, "Some things I need to take back myself. I can't let other people fight all my battles for me."
Lucian still didn't speak, but his thumb brushed lightly across my cheekbone, tracing the edge of the swelling. The tenderness in the gesture made my throat tight.
We stayed like that for another minute before Lucian carefully shifted me off his lap and opened the car door. "Come on. Let's get you upstairs."
The elevator ride was quiet. Lucian kept one hand on the small of my back the entire time, a steady presence that made it easier to breathe. When we got inside his apartment he steered me directly to the couch and disappeared into the kitchen.
I heard the freezer open and close. A moment later he came back with an ice pack wrapped in a thin towel.
"No," I said before he could get close enough to press it to my face.
Lucian stopped and looked at me with one eyebrow raised.
I reached out and caught his wrist, wrapping my fingers around the bone and feeling his pulse jump under my touch. I drew small circles on the inside of his wrist with my thumb and looked up at him through my lashes. "I don't want ice."
His throat worked and his eyes darkened, but after a second he pulled his wrist free and headed for the freezer anyway. "You're getting ice whether you want it or not."
I scowled at his back but didn't argue. When he came back he sat down next to me and gently pressed the ice pack to my cheek. I hissed at the cold and he murmured an apology but didn't move it.
After a few minutes he disappeared again and came back with a small tube of arnica gel. He squeezed some onto his fingers and smoothed it carefully over the bruise, his touch so gentle it made my chest ache.
"Stay here," he said when he was done, and headed for the kitchen again.
I heard the microwave beep and the sound of plates being moved around. The smell of food hit me and I realized I was starving. I pushed myself up off the couch and followed him, then kicked him lightly in the calf when I saw him pulling containers out of the fridge.
"You're not going to acknowledge what I said earlier at all?"
Lucian glanced at me over his shoulder with an expression of pure innocence. "What did you say?"
I kicked him again, harder this time.
He caught my ankle before I could pull back and ran his thumb along the bone, sending a shiver up my leg. Then he let go and went back to plating food like nothing had happened.
I leaned against the counter and watched him work. There was seared salmon with a golden crust, roasted vegetables that still looked crisp, and a bowl of creamy mushroom soup still steaming. He must have made all of this earlier and kept it warm.
When he set everything on the table and pulled out a chair for me, I just stared at the food. He sat down across from me and said casually, "I knew you wouldn't eat anything over there. I was waiting for you."
Something hot and painful lodged in my throat. I picked up my fork and focused on cutting into the salmon so I wouldn't have to look at him. The apartment was warm and quiet, the food was exactly what I needed, and it had been so long since anyone had taken care of me like this that I'd almost forgotten what it felt like.
It felt like home.
I got up and grabbed a bottle of red wine from the rack near the window, along with two glasses. I poured generously and pushed one toward Lucian.
"Drink with me."
He picked up the glass but barely touched it to his lips while I drained mine and poured another. By the time we'd finished eating, the bottle was empty and my head was pleasantly fuzzy.
Lucian stood and started gathering plates. I watched him move around the kitchen, sleeves rolled up and hair falling into his eyes, and pulled out my phone. I placed three delivery orders in quick succession, all lingerie from a shop that promised delivery within the hour.
When Lucian turned around from the sink I was looking right at him, and whatever he saw in my expression made him go completely still.
I stood up and crossed the space between us, sliding my arms around his waist from behind and pressing my face against his shoulder blades. My hands found the hem of his shirt and slipped underneath, palms flat against the hard muscle of his stomach.
Lucian caught my wrists gently. "I need to shower."
The doorbell rang before I could respond. I let go of him and went to answer it, coming back with a discreet black shopping bag. Lucian was still standing by the sink looking like he'd been hit over the head with something.
I took the bag to the bedroom and changed quickly into the pink and white silk slip I'd ordered, the one with thin straps and a hem that barely reached mid-thigh. Then I walked straight to the bathroom and pushed the door open without knocking.
Lucian was standing under the shower spray with his head tilted back and eyes closed. Water ran in rivulets down his chest and stomach, disappearing into the waistband of his boxer briefs. He hadn't bothered to take them off yet.
I set a small box on the counter and walked over to him. He opened his eyes when I got close and his gaze dropped immediately to what I was wearing. I went up on my toes and hooked my arms around his neck, then pressed my mouth to the hollow of his throat.
Lucian's hands came up to my waist but instead of pulling me closer he pushed me back gently. "You've been drinking. You might regret this tomorrow."
I narrowed my eyes at him and let my hands slide down his chest. "Regret what? Are you bad at this or something?"
His expression turned dark and dangerous. He backed me against the tile wall, arms caging me in. Water soaked through my slip as I adjusted the temperature so it hit both of us.
Lucian made a rough sound and started to pull away. I grabbed his shoulders, pressing kisses along his collarbone and chest.
"The box," I said against his skin, nodding toward the counter. "On the sink."
He stilled. I dropped my hands to the drawstring of his boxer briefs and tried to untie it, but my fingers were clumsy and the knot wouldn't cooperate. I made a frustrated noise and gave up, letting my forehead fall against his chest.
"Don't wear anything with ties at home anymore," I muttered. "I can't even take advantage of you properly."
Lucian was silent for a beat, then huffed out something that might have been a laugh. I looked up and found him staring at me with an expression I couldn't quite read.
"Is your technique really that bad?" I asked.
He went still again. Then he reached past me and grabbed the box off the counter, setting it on the built-in shelf next to the showerhead. When he looked back at me his eyes had gone dark and focused in a way that made my pulse kick up.
I tried to step around him but he caught me around the waist and lifted me easily, pressing me back against the tile. My legs came up automatically to wrap around his hips and my arms tightened around his neck.
His voice was low and rough when he spoke. "Are you sure about this? Because once we start, I'm not stopping."