Chapter 28 Chapter 28
Valentina
A soft sound slipped from my lips. I clamped my mouth shut immediately, breath shuddering as my fingers curled against the edge of the desk. God. I didn't even know how it had happened one second he was seated across from me, all control and arrogance, the next his presence was everywhere. Too close. Too warm. Too much.
"Lower your voice," Lucien murmured near my ear, his tone calm, almost amused, like he wasn't the one undoing me inch by inch. "You're in your office."
That only made it worse. My pulse skidded wildly as his hand skimmed my waist slowly like he was testing just how much I could take. I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to ground myself, trying to remember where I was. Papers on the desk. The sound of the air conditioner. The glass walls that could betray me at any second.
"Lucien," I breathed, barely a whisper this time.
He chuckled softly, a sound that vibrated straight through me. "That's better."
I hated how easily he read me. Hated how my body reacted before my mind could catch up. My legs felt weak, my thoughts scattered, concentration completely gone. This him was exactly why he'd come up here. Not to talk. Not to sit. But to remind me how little control I had when it came to him.
"What if someone hears?" I whispered, more protest than conviction.
He didn't stop. If anything, he leaned in closer, his presence a quiet threat. "Then you'll learn how good you are at staying quiet."
The audacity of him. The confidence. The way he made everything feel like a game he already knew he'd win.
Another breath escaped me, and I bit down on my lip, shaking my head like that might pull me back together. My hands trembled, my skin too sensitive, my thoughts a mess.
Then just like that he pulled away. The sudden absence of him left me dizzy.
He straightened, smoothing his shirt as if he hadn't just unraveled me in my own office. His eyes lingered on me for a second longer, dark and knowing, before a satisfied smile curved his lips.
"See you later, Valentina," he said quietly.
And then he was gone. The door clicked shut behind him, leaving me alone... trembling, breath uneven, heart still racing aching for more, and furious with myself for wanting it so badly.
I sat stiffly in the passenger seat, staring straight ahead while Lucien drove like nothing in the world was wrong.
Calm. Infuriatingly calm. As if he hadn't walked into my office, undone every ounce of self-control I had, and then left me there shaken, distracted, and painfully aware of my own body without so much as a glass of water to recover.
My fingers curled against my lap. I turned toward him. "What exactly is your problem?"
He spared me a brief glance, then returned his eyes to the road. "What do you mean?"
The nerve.
"You know exactly what I mean," I snapped, frustration spilling out before I could stop it. "You came into my office, touch me, make it impossible for me to concentrate, leave me like that... and now you're here acting like nothing happened."
The corner of his mouth lifted. A smile.
That slow, knowing smile that made my pulse jump and my irritation spike.
"Stop smiling," I said sharply.
He didn't. If anything, it deepened.
Without thinking, I reached across and squeezed his face between my fingers, more annoyed than gentle. "I'm serious."
His hand tightened on the steering wheel. "Valentina," he warned calmly, "don't forget I'm driving."
"I don't care," I muttered, dropping my hand back to my side. "You're impossible."
A low chuckle left him, and then his hand left the wheel briefly and settled on my thigh.
His palm was warm. Steady. Infuriatingly deliberate. He didn't move higher. Didn't rush. Just slow, lazy circles with his thumb, like he had all the time in the world and knew exactly what it was doing to me.
I sucked in a breath, my fingers curling against the seat.
"I know you want me," he said quietly, eyes still on the road. "You don't have to say it."
My throat went dry.
"But," he continued, "you'll have me all to yourself tonight. Don't worry."
I pulled my hand back, needing space before I completely lost it. "Your father will be home," I said, more to ground myself than anything.
His jaw tightened slightly. "We're not going back there."
I turned to him, eyes widening. "What? What if-"
"We'll be back before midnight."
I looked ahead at the road, my heartbeat loud in my ears, anticipation tangling with nerves.
The door slammed shut behind us and suddenly his hands were on me. I didn't even get time to make out the house he took me to. I was too aroused.
His jacket slid off somewhere between the doorway and the wall. My fingers fisted into his shirt as he backed me inside, kisses rough and hungry.
The door shut with a dull thud. His hands were everywhere my waist, my back, pulling me closer as if he needed to feel every inch of me just to breathe again.
I kissed him back just as hard, just as desperate, knowing full well that once again... we were crossing a line neither of us knew how to uncross.
He pushed me back onto the bed. The mattress dipped beneath my weight, the sheets cool against my skin, while his presence swallowed all the air in the room.
Lucien straightened slowly, eyes dark, intent, never leaving mine as he shrugged out of the rest of his clothes with deliberate patience. My fingers fumbled at my own shirt, the fabric suddenly too much, too confining, and when it slid free, his gaze sharpened like I’d just handed him permission.
He climbed onto the bed, hovering over me, one knee settling between my thighs as he reached for his belt, undoing it with unhurried control. The sound was soft, barely there but it echoed in my chest all the same. My pulse thudded so loud I was sure he could hear it.
His hands found me again, gripping my hips, dragging me closer until I was right at the edge of the bed, my body reacting before my mind could catch up. I gasped, fingers curling into the sheets, every nerve ending lit and waiting.
He leaned down, his forehead resting against mine, his breath warm, uneven.
“I don’t know what this is,” he murmured. “I don’t know what we’re doing.”
His hands tightened just a little. “But I can’t stop,” he continued, eyes searching mine. “No matter how much I tell myself I should.”
My heart slammed against my ribs. The room felt too small. Too hot. His nearness was overwhelming, intoxicating, dangerous in a way that made my skin buzz.
I swallowed, my hands lifting to his shoulders, needing something solid to hold onto as the world narrowed down to just us his weight, his breath, the way he hovered like he was one second away from losing control.