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Chapter Twenty-Three

ISADORA

Lucien opened the door to his home and guided me inside. I removed my boots, then followed him to what looked like his living room. Based on what I’d seen in his office, it was exactly what I’d expected from him. Luxury, elegance, but there was also a warmth to it.

I ventured into the space and studied it with a small smile.

Dark hardwood floors, a vaulted ceiling, massive windows framed with lush curtains, and a low-burning fireplace across from a canape sofa and oversized chaise lounge chair.

I glanced at the fireplace and noted that the fire hadn’t been burning for very long.

Most likely, Lucien had called someone and asked them to prepare the house for us.

Whether that staff member had hung around after, I wasn’t sure. Nor did I care.

The room smelled of wood polish, bloodwine, and a hint of something wholly Lucien that I couldn’t name. Whoever had decorated the place had hung artwork, all painted in a naturalistic theme—forests, rivers, misty mountains.

It was homey and absolutely nothing like the cold, pristine stone and glass estate I’d shared with Trystan. A person could relax here after a long day, kick her feet up, and read a good book.

I instantly fell in love with it.

“Do you like it?” Lucien asked, studying me from the doorway.

“It’s perfect,” was all I said.

I crossed toward the couch and trailed my fingers along the back.

Trystan had never believed in comfortable seating.

He’d always said that appearances superseded comfort.

Instead of couches, he’d opted for glamor, furnishing our home with stiff-backed chairs and hard chaises.

He’d wanted elegant, formal, but not welcoming. No blankets, no cushions, no warmth.

Lucien’s was the stark opposite of that, based on the blanket draped haphazardly across the settee. Sitting atop the blanket was a book, and between the pages was a bookmark, indicating where he’d left off.

Curious, I approached and glanced at the cover and title—Rebecca. “Daphne du Maurier,” I murmured. I glanced over my shoulder with a raised brow. “I didn’t peg you as a gothic romance sort of guy.”

Lucien chuckled. “It’s more than that.”

I stared at the room in all its wonder and smiled. “Your place is not what I expected.”

He pushed off the doorframe and strode toward me, his shoes echoing against the floor. “No?”

“No,” I said. “I half-expected to find your walls covered with brooding portraits of yourself.”

“I only bring those out for parties,” he retorted playfully.

I grinned. “I knew it.”

Chuckling, Lucien walked to the bar cart next to the fire and poured us two glasses of bloodwine. He handed one to me before taking his own sip. We locked eyes over the glass rims, not speaking. We just stood there, sipping our wine like we had all the time in the world.

After a few moments, Lucien reached for my glass and gently took it from my hand. He didn’t say a word as he set it down on the fireplace mantle, then placed his next to mine.

When he turned back to me, our eyes met once more, and my heart started racing. I wasn’t sure who moved first. Maybe we both did. All I knew was one moment we stood two feet apart, and the next, we were in each other’s arms.

His mouth slanted over mine and I wrapped my arms around him, my fingers gripping his shirt. He lifted his hands and cupped my face, pushing my hair back from my cheeks. I melted into him, drawn to his body like a moth to a flame.

Lucien backed me toward the couch and lowered me onto the cushions, his body covering mine.

He slipped a hand beneath my blouse, his thumbs brushing against my breasts.

Goosebumps pebbled my skin when I realized there was no one here to interrupt us this time.

It was just the two of us. And this could go as far as I wanted—or didn’t want.

Luckily for me, I wanted this to go as far as it could.

Lucien pulled back from the kiss and gazed down at me, his eyes almost hazy with desire. He brushed his lips against the tip of my nose, my lips, my chin.

“Are you sure you want this?” he finally asked. “I don’t want to push you.”

I cupped his face and pulled him down for another kiss, my tongue stroking his. When we parted, both breathless, I said, “Don’t worry. You’re not.”

“I mean it,” he said, his voice gruff. “You haven’t been alone in a hundred years. Are you sure you want this? Me? I don’t want to be—what’s the word kids use these days—a rebound guy?”

My heart melted into a puddle of goo. I slid my fingers through his hair and massaged the back of his head. His eyes fluttered shut, his expression going slack. If he was a cat, he’d be purring.

“I’m not confused or lonely,” I told him.

“And I didn’t come here tonight hoping for a quickie.

I want you . Because you make me feel like myself again.

I haven’t felt this excited, electrified, or eager to be touched in a very long time.

I didn’t realize how numb I was until I was finally free from Trystan.

In my head, and in my heart, he and I haven’t been a couple in a very long time.

” I moved my hands back to Lucien’s cheeks and waited for him to open his eyes and look at me. “I know exactly what I want.”

Lucien didn’t say a word. He simply stared at me. Then, something fierce flashed in his gaze, and he kissed me. Hard.

It wasn’t like before. He didn’t take his time or show restraint. Nor did his mouth leave mine even when he pulled me upright into his lap. I straddled him instinctively, wrapping my arms around his neck for balance.

“You undo me,” Lucien murmured against my lips. “I didn’t realize how cold my life was until you lit a fire to it.”

I didn’t answer. I had no words for that. Instead, I kissed him until we could barely breathe.

Lucien slowly opened my blouse buttons, then paused, catching my gaze once more.

I nodded—no hesitation—and he pushed the material off my shoulders and tossed my top behind us.

Apparently, that was the unspoken signal.

We tore at each other’s clothes with a sense of urgency, as though we would die if we didn’t get the other naked.

Buttons scattered, zippers split, fabric ripped, and none of it happened fast enough.

Finally, we removed the last pieces of clothing, and I could enjoy the masterpiece laid out before me. Lucien’s hands explored and memorized every inch of me. He took the time to discover what I liked, what excited and pleasured me, even what made me laugh.

And I happily returned the favor. I learned he liked it when I dug my nails into his back. Not hard enough to bleed, but hard enough to show him I meant business. He liked when I ground my hips against him, when I nipped the tip of his ears, his lips, his cock.

It was the last one that nearly broke him. I’d just wrapped my lips around his length and started tasting him when he pulled free and pressed me down onto the couch, his body poised over me. His hands found mine and he lifted them above my head, pinning them in place against the cushions.

Then he started moving down the length of my body, worshipping me with that wickedly talented mouth of his. He gripped my legs and carefully eased them over his shoulders, exposing my most intimate spot to him. He looked up at me from between my thighs, and the heat in his eyes nearly scorched me.

Without warning, he lowered himself, his mouth instantly finding his intended mark. He unleashed his skills on me with a confidence he’d clearly earned. My breath caught, then fled entirely, stifled by the sensation of him devouring me.

I lowered my arms and fisted my fingers in his hair, holding on for dear life.

Lucien didn’t stop. He read every gasp, every arch of my spine, every cry, and adjusted his methods until finally, heat burst through me, and I broke apart. I moaned his name as waves of pleasure crashed through me until I finally slumped back against the couch, utterly spent.

Gods, I hadn’t felt this way in so long. Maybe ever.

Lucien climbed up my body, his mouth gleaming with proof of my satisfaction and his eyes dark. He slipped one arm around my waist and pulled me up from the couch, once again straddling me across his lap.

“I could do that forever,” he said. “But there’s something else I desperately want from you.”

I nodded eagerly. I knew exactly what he wanted, and I wanted it too. That relentless need hadn’t subsided since I’d felt his fangs scrape my throat earlier in my loft.

Which was why I tilted my head, granting him full access to my neck.

“You’re sure?” he asked.

I merely hummed my assent.

Lucien’s hands slid up my back, slow and steady, drawing me closer until our chests touched. He nosed along my jaw, breathing me in, making my whole body hum and my skin prickle with anticipation.

And then I felt it.

The scrape of fangs against skin.

My breath hitched and Lucien’s lips stilled against my neck. He pressed a kiss, then sank his fangs into my throat.

The pain was instantaneous but gone in a blink. What followed was something else entirely. Heat. Euphoria. A full-body buzz that made me arch against him with a gasp.

Pleasure flooded my system, molten and dizzying, curling low in my belly.

My fingers clawed at his shoulders as I rocked against him, seeking friction, needing more.

Lucien gave a deep and guttural groan, then grabbed my hips and, in one smooth motion, thrust into me.

I cried out in pure ecstasy and sank onto him, my body molding perfectly around him.

A shuddering breath escaped me as I clung to him. I wanted to ride him, take him deeper, but my body was unwilling to obey, too drunk on ecstasy.

Instead, Lucien started moving beneath me and my eyes fluttered shut as a thousand different sensations overtook me. I ached for him to go faster, harder, but I also wanted to revel in this moment. This was our beginning, and I never wanted it to end.

Every thrust sent a new wave crashing through me. Every pull of his mouth made my toes curl. He had me stretched around him, completely full, utterly exposed, and I didn’t care. I wanted it. Wanted all of him.

A low sound rumbled in his chest, something feral and pleased.

The vibration pressed against my skin as he drank deeply one last time, then finally retracted his fangs.

He kissed the spot he’d bitten, slow and reverent, and I felt the wound begin to close.

The second it did, he tightened his grip on my hips and thrust so deep, I felt I might choke on him.

Gasping, I clutched his shoulders, my head falling back.

“That’s it,” he murmured, his voice ragged. “I want to feel every part of you.”

His pace quickened, his hips surging upward while his hands kept me pinned in place.

I lowered my head and kissed him, hungrily devouring his mouth.

Lucien adjusted his grip, one hand splayed over my lower back, the other cradling my neck as he moved within me.

Pressure began building inside me again, slowly at first, curling tighter and tighter with every thrust.

We held onto each other through it all—through the mounting rhythm and the inevitable climb toward bliss. And when I fell apart in his arms for the second time, it felt different, more intimate somehow.

Lucien followed me a heartbeat later, groaning low in my ear, his arms locking around me as his body tensed beneath mine. We held each other through the aftershocks, neither of us moving, the only sound that of our breathing, still jagged and uneven.

Eventually, we collapsed on the couch, both of us boneless and dazed, my cheek pressed to the curve of his shoulder. His hands ran gently up and down my back, soothing and steady.

“Izzy,” he murmured, brushing a kiss into my hair.

“Mm?”

But he didn’t say another word. He just held me tighter.

Eventually, Lucien rose from the couch, still holding me, and carried me up the stairs. Normally, I would protest. But seeing as how I couldn’t feel my legs, it seemed pointless to tell him I could walk.

He took me to the bathroom, where together, we cleaned up. Then he held my hand and led me toward his bedroom. I barely noticed what it looked like before he led me toward the bed and drew down the covers. We climbed in together and he gathered me into his arms before pulling the blanket over us.

I rested my head on his chest and closed my eyes, enjoying the feel of his fingers running up and down my back and side.

This was the life I wanted. For once, I didn’t feel empty or unwanted. Instead, I felt free, loved, and safe.

And I never wanted that to change.