Page 23 of Twisted Trails (Rogue Riders Duet #2)

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Alaina

When the door creaks open, I suck in a deep breath like Luc told me to.

One second. Two.

By the third, something claws at my chest. The air is too full and too stuck, like I’m choking on it, and I’m seventeen again, lungs collapsed, unable to move, to speak, to breathe ? —

A hand finds my wrist.

Warm. Steady. Real.

Luc.

The panic that bloomed in my chest fizzles as quickly as it came, replaced by his grounding weight .

He pulls me gently from the car and arranges me close, so my back is against his chest, before he wraps his arms around my stomach, anchoring me to him, his breath warm against the shell of my ear.

“Breathe for me, Petite ,” he whispers, and I let out the breath I’ve been holding and take in another.

The air isn’t just air. It’s lavender.

Thick, rich, heady lavender, so potent it winds around my lungs, muscles, and thoughts, melting the last bit of tension away. It’s the most beautiful scent I’ve ever known.

Luc’s arms tighten around me. “Open your eyes.”

I do, and my breath catches for a whole different reason.

The moon glows above us, giving off just enough light to make everything around us shimmer. Rows upon rows of lavender stretch out before me, pale purple under the stars.

I stare, wide-eyed, heart thudding, and I don’t even realize I’ve gasped until Luc tilts my chin toward him and kisses the sound right out of me. His lips are warm and steal the breath, the awe, and the ache in my chest, replacing them with something else entirely.

He pulls back just enough to rest the tip of his nose against mine, his lips brushing mine as he whispers, “That’s how I feel every time I see you .”

Fuck, this man.

Luc lets go of me to grab the duffel from the back seat, then takes my good hand in his. Lavender rustles with each of our steps as he guides me through the moonlit rows. The scent is intoxicating, calming, and wraps around me like an embrace.

He pulls out a blanket and some pillows, setting up a cozy nest between the rows of lavender. The sight is surreal, like something out of a dream. His blue eyes reflect the starlight as he straightens and turns to me. “Wait here.”

I let my fingers glide over the soft petals before I lean down, inhaling deeply, and allowing the fragrance to fill my lungs once more.

“Come here, ma Petite. ” I glance over to see Luc sprawled on the blanket, extending his hand toward me. I take it, and he pulls me down into the makeshift bed.

“I want to kiss you so badly.” He strokes my cheek, his touch sending shivers down my spine.

“Then why don’t you? ”

His lips curve into a smirk, and then he closes the distance. The kiss starts slow, but it doesn’t stay that way. Luc tilts his head, deepening it, and my heart skips a beat when his hand finds the small of my back and pulls me into him.

I clutch at his shoulders, my fingers sliding up into his hair, gasping softly as he bites my bottom lip, then soothes it with his tongue. He growls low in his throat, and I swear it vibrates straight through me.

His hands roam down my sides, over my waist, and mine do the same to him, until one settles at the hem of his shirt.

I tug it up slightly, breaking the kiss just long enough to murmur, “Too many clothes.”

He yanks my shirt over my head and tosses it aside, making me gasp as moonlight spills across my now-bare chest. His gaze drops to my revealed skin, and his lips part.

“That’s not what I meant, you sly dog!” I try to sound indignant, but the way my nipples tighten under his stare betrays me.

“Woof,” he growls with a wicked grin, then leans in to claim my mouth again.

This time, he kisses me like he’s starved, and it’s hungrier and hotter than before. Like he’s been waiting forever, and now he’s finally allowed to have a taste.

His rough palms skim over my waist to cup my breasts, and he circles my nipples with his thumbs until I moan into his mouth.

“Luc.” I arch into his touch. “Lose your shirt.”

“Of course, mad e moiselle. ” He leans back just enough to tug his shirt over his head, revealing smooth, golden skin and the chiseled lines of muscle that always make me want to bite him .

When his eyes meet mine again, there’s no teasing left, only something molten and soft.

“You’re perfect,” I murmur, breathless.

His smile is crooked and vulnerable all at once, and then he kisses me again, slower this time, reverent, like he’s thanking me for every inch of bare skin between us.

Finally.

That’s the only word that makes sense in my head. Finally. But he’s stealing thought, air, and every ounce of restraint I thought I had. We kiss, and kiss, and kiss, like we’ve been holding our breath for years and are finally coming up for air, only to give it to each other.

I kiss him harder, and he groans as he shifts his hips, letting me feel the press of his hard cock against my thigh. He presses into me and starts murmuring things in French, too fast and low for me even to pick up, but it doesn’t matter. It’s him. It’s his voice, soaked in need and heat.

Fuck, he’s so damn sexy.

He kisses down my throat, his teeth grazing the skin at my neck, nipping just enough to make me squirm.

Then he moves lower, lingering at the hollow of my collarbone, before trailing down slowly, until his mouth wraps around my nipple.

I grab onto his hair and gasp, holding tight and anchoring him to me as he sucks.

A shudder wracks through my body as his suck turns into a nibble, sending a ripple of pleasure all the way to my toes.

I moan, hips tilting, my whole body instinctively reaching for more.

His hands slip beneath the waistband of my sweatpants, sliding them down, and leaving me in just my boxers. He grips my pussy over the fabric, making my clit throb as he strokes me teasingly with his broad, warm palm.

“Huh,” he murmurs with a wicked little smirk. “That’s odd. I could’ve sworn there was a little something here last time I got a feel. ”

My face burns, the flush already there from desire merging with embarrassment. “Yeah, well, it was a pair of socks.”

Luc throws his head back with a laugh, still palming me.

His whole body shakes with it, and I can’t help it.

I start giggling, too, my breasts bouncing with the rhythm.

His laugh cuts off abruptly as he zeroes in on the movement, and mine chokes to a stop when he strokes up and down my slit, lighting my body on fire as he feels how damp the fabric has already gotten.

“No wonder you didn’t get hard for me. But you get wet for me pretty easily, it seems.”

I huff. “Full of yourself, Delacroix? You think you could have me?”

I’m not sure why I’m smack-talking the man rubbing my pussy like the champion he is, but I can’t seem to stop myself.

He smirks. “I already do, Petite. ” Then he kisses me again, groaning into my mouth, like the sound is being pulled straight from his chest. “Fuck, I love you.”

My whole body stills.

Did he just?

“What?” I breathe out, laughter still clinging to the edges of my lips.

“Shit, sorry. That, ah, came out fast, didn’t it?

” Luc’s movements against me slow, the air around him stilling as his face pinches in uncertainty.

“I just…” He shifts, brushing his hand nervously through his hair.

“I wasn’t going to say it, not yet. I didn’t mean to make it weird.

It’s just, look at you, and look at this, and I didn’t expect it to hit me like this, but it did, and I?—”

“Luc,” I say, cutting into his adorable rambling as my heart gallops, my ribs stretching to contain it. “How do you say I love you in French? ”

He exhales, and softer than I’ve ever heard him, he breathes, “ Je t’aime. ”

I brush his hair from his forehead, needing to see him fully, and for him to see me.

“ Je t’aime , Luc.”

I mean it with every bruised rib, scarred inch, and jagged piece of me that’s somehow still standing. The words come out quietly, but inside, they roar, crystal clear and unafraid. And somehow, saying them doesn’t make me feel exposed but makes me feel whole.

Luc’s gaze softens, and with reverence that steals my breath. He hooks his fingers into the waistband of my boxers and slowly slides them down, baring me completely.

Everything else, every worry disappears, because there’s only him and me under the stars, wrapped in lavender, and only the sky to bear witness.

He kisses me again and again as if every press of his mouth is a vow. “ Je t’aime, ma Petite. ”

A soft rustle, a whisper of movement, and something featherlight brushes against the curve of my hip. I blink down to see that Luc is holding a single stem of lavender between his fingers.

He skims the purple petals over my skin and down my side, then up the arc of my ribs, before gliding across my stomach and chest, and circling one nipple. I gasp and arch against the blanket as goose bumps rise in its wake, following the slow path he draws.

His eyes darken as he watches it all, and from just that look, my squirming becomes writhing anticipation.

The bloom glides over my pelvis, and I suck in a hiccupping breath.

I feel it everywhere.

Luc chuckles. “You okay?”

I nod, but my hips shift at how wet I am already, how tightly wound I’ve become under just kisses, the touch of lavender, and his gaze. “Luc…”

“What do you want, Petite ? Tell me.”

“I—” I clamp my lips shut, overwhelmed. “I don’t know. I…”

“No need to be insecure, bébé . It’s just me.” He brushes his lips over mine again. “Tell me, I’ll do anything you want.”

“I don’t know what I want,” I whisper again, feeling how my cheeks heat. “You heard Finn. I’ve never done anything before him. I don’t know how this works.”

Luc stills, then pulls back and meets my gaze with a determined look. “I’ll show you. I’ll show you what a first time should be and feel like.”

I nod, relief flooding me because that sounds perfect. “Okay.”

His wide palm grips my cheek, and his brow furrows. “If I do anything you don’t like, you tell me. Got it?”