Chapter 66 66. His Little Monster
"I'll think about it."
I pulled back just enough to meet his eyes. His jaw tightened, but he nodded, pulling me closer again. Our lips met in a kiss that tasted like desperation and promises we weren't sure we could keep. His hands moved up my back, fingers tracing my spine like he was trying to memorize every vertebra.
When I pulled away this time, I felt it-hard and insistent against my belly.
A smile tugged at my lips.
"Someone's excited," I murmured against his mouth, deliberately pressing closer. "Your little monster is poking me."
Lucien chuckled. "Little?"
"Fine. Big monster." I rolled my eyes, but I was grinning now.
"Much better." His hands slid to my hips, holding me against him. "And he can't help it. You're naked in my arms, princess. What did you expect?"
"Restraint?" I teased.
"From me?" His golden eyes gleamed. "You should know better by now."
I did know better. And that's why I reached down and pulled the drain plug.
"Camila-" I silenced it with another kiss.
The water began to swirl away as I moved my lips from his mouth to his jaw. I kissed the sharp line of it, felt his pulse jump beneath my lips when I moved to his throat. His hands tightened on my waist.
"What are you doing?" he asked, but his voice had gone rough.
"What does it look like?" I kissed down his collarbone, then lower. The water was almost gone now, just a thin layer covering the bottom of the tub.
I kissed his chest, traced my tongue over the hard planes of muscle. He tasted like the clean, mineral edge of spring water, and the faint, addictive flavor of salt and amber-something that made heat pool low in my belly despite everything we'd been through tonight.
His breath came faster as I moved lower, kissing and licking and occasionally biting just hard enough to make him hiss. When I reached his nipple, I circled it with my tongue before closing my lips around it.
"Fuck," he breathed.
I smiled against his skin and continued my descent. The water was gone completely now, leaving us in the cool air of the bathroom. Goosebumps rose on my skin, but I didn't stop. I kissed down the defined ridges of his abdomen, counting each one with my lips.
When I settled between his legs, nuzzling against his cock, his hand shot out to grip my hair.
"Fiera." His voice was strained. "You don't have to-"
"I want to." I looked up at him. "Let me?"
His throat worked as he swallowed. For a moment, I thought he might pull me back up, might insist that tonight wasn't the right time. But then his hand loosened in my hair, became a caress instead of a restraint.
"Yes," he whispered.
I wrapped my hand around him first, feeling the weight and heat of him. His head fell back against the tub with a soft thunk. I stroked him slowly, watching his face as pleasure flickered across it. His jaw clenched, his eyes squeezed shut.
Then I leaned forward and took him in my mouth.
The sound he made was between a groan and a prayer. His hand tightened in my hair again, not pulling, just holding on like I was the only thing keeping him tethered to earth.
I started slow, taking him deeper with each movement. His hips twitched, fighting not to thrust. I could feel the tension in his thighs, the way every muscle had gone taut with restraint.
"God, Camila," he groaned. "Your mouth-"
I hummed around him, and his whole body jerked. His free hand gripped the edge of the tub so hard I heard his knuckles crack.
I fell into a rhythm, using my hand where my mouth couldn't reach, occasionally pulling back to trace patterns with my tongue that made him curse in languages I didn't recognize. When I looked up at him, his golden eyes were fixed on me with an intensity that just made my core flutter inside.
"You're so fucking beautiful like this," his voice was wrecked. "On your knees for me... Taking me so well."
The praise unfurled something warm in my chest. I doubled my efforts, taking him deeper, faster. His breathing became ragged, his hips starting to move despite his attempts to stay still.
"Camila-" My name came out strangled. "I'm close-"
I didn't pull away. Instead, I looked up at him again, holding his gaze as I took him as deep as I could one last time.
He came with a broken sound, my name on his lips like a benediction. I swallowed everything he gave me, sucking him through it until he was shaking, until his hand in my hair went gentle again.
When I finally pulled away, he immediately grabbed my neck, pulling me up into his lap. He kissed me, deep and thorough, not caring that he could taste himself on my tongue.
"That was-" He broke off, seeming unable to find words.
"Good?" I offered, smiling against his lips.
"Fucking perfect." He cupped my face, thumbs stroking my cheeks. "You're perfect."
I wasn't. We both knew that. But in this moment, wrapped in his arms in an empty bathtub, I could almost believe it.
We showered, and he carried me to bed after that, both of us still naked and damp. He tucked me against his side, my head on his chest, his heartbeat steady beneath my ear.
"Thank you," he said softly.
"For what?"
"For trusting me. For telling me the truth." His fingers traced idle patterns on my shoulder. "For letting me in."
I pressed a kiss to his chest. "Thank you for not running when you heard it."
"Never. I'm never running from you, Camila. No matter what."
We lay there in silence for a while, and I felt peace in my chest that I hadn't felt in weeks. Or something close to it.
But I knew it wouldn't last. It couldn't. Not with everything we still had to face.
Still, for tonight, I let myself have this. Let myself feel safe in his arms. Let myself pretend that maybe, just maybe, everything would be okay.
I was stretched out with my head in his lap, my legs dangling over the armrest. He had one hand in my hair, idly playing with the strands while he held my phone in the other.
"'She watched him sleep,'" he read, "'and wondered if he knew. If he could feel her eyes on him even in his dreams. If some primal part of his brain recognized the predator in his bed.'"
His voice dropped lower, taking on the edge of menace that the scene required.
"'She'd killed for him. Three times now. Three men who'd looked at him wrong, touched him wrong, threatened to take him from her. And he had no idea.'"
I closed my eyes, listening to my own words transformed by his voice. He was better than I'd expected. He knew exactly when to pause for effect, when to speed up for tension, when to slow down for emotion.
"This is dark as fuck, princess," he said, but there was admiration in his tone. "I'm impressed."
"Says the man who hired someone to shoot me."
His hand stilled in my hair for just a moment. "Too soon?"
"Maybe a little." But I was smiling. We could joke about it now, barely. The wound was still fresh, but at least it wasn't actively bleeding anymore.
He continued reading. It felt like healing. Like maybe we really could move past everything that-
The doorbell rang. We both froze.
It was late, almost ten. No one should be here. The doorman always called before sending anyone up.
Lucien set my phone aside carefully. "Stay here."
I sat up, watching as he checked the security monitor. His whole body went rigid.
"Who is it?" I asked, ice forming in my stomach.
He didn't answer. Instead, he opened the door.
"Is Miss Sterling here? We have an arrest warrant for her for vehicular manslaughter..."