Shades of Midnight (28 page)

Eve draped her arms around Lucien's neck. "What more could a woman ask of a man?"

"Marry me."

"Will you show up this time?"

"Nothing could keep me away." He kissed her, sweet and then not sweet, desperately hungry and then demanding.

"Yes," she said when Lucien took his mouth from hers. "I will most definitely marry you."

Lucien stood, and when Eve tried to do the same he swept her up. "Your legs will likely still be weak," he explained as she settled into his arms.

Eve didn't argue, but draped her arms around his neck and held on tight. "Perhaps you should carry me. I don't yet feel quite sturdy."

"You might not feel sturdy for a while," he said. "Have I told you how foolish it was to... to..."

"Yes," she said. "You did."

Viola and Alistair were gone. Nothing of the ghostly lovers lingered in the air, not a spark of light, not a shimmer in a dark corner, not a sigh or a distant trill of laughter. Maybe what had happened tonight would be enough to send them on. They wouldn't know for sure until tomorrow night. Halloween.

"You were right," she said as Lucien carried her up the stairs. "Alistair didn't kill Viola. She knows that now, thanks to you."

"I don't want to talk about them. Not now. Not yet." He carried her into her room and laid her gently on the bed. He didn't walk away, but sat on the side of the bed and hovered above her. "I've never been so scared," he admitted softly, his hand caressing her cheek. "Evie, I've made a lot of mistakes, in my life. I imagine I'll make more mistakes. But I don't want to imagine what my life would be like without you in it."

She knew now what her life was like without Lucien in it. Serene. Ordinary.

Loveless.

When he started to rise, Eve reached up and fisted her hand on his shirt. She grasped tightly, not ready to be alone. Would she ever be ready to be alone?

"Don't leave me," she whispered, very gently drawing him back down.

He came without resistance, whispering, "Never."

Chapter 17

Her door stood open, and the lamps they'd left burning in the foyer below filled the room with a distant, pale light, as if a few of the beams that filled the rooms below with bright light traveled up the stairs, down the hall, and into her room. It was enough for her to see his face. She needed to see Lucien's face, now.

Eve reached up and brushed a dark strand of hair away from Lucien's cheek. He still looked so worried.

"Did you really ask me to marry you?" she whispered.

"Yes. Did you really agree?"

She nodded silently.

He touched her face, gently, as if she might be suddenly fragile.

"I thought maybe I was hallucinating," she said. "Tonight has certainly been... different."

"Regretting your decision already?"

She didn't hesitate in answering, "No. Never."

He kissed her. The caress was soft, at first, tender. She tasted his fear, still. Fear for her, for what they'd almost lost. She had never seen Lucien desperate, but she tasted desperation now.

The kiss changed gradually, from desperate to passionate, from fearful to stimulating. Had she once pretended that his kiss didn't affect her? How foolish. How unnecessary. His kiss did stir her, more powerfully than before. How many kisses had she missed in the past two years?

Gradually, as they kissed, Lucien moved so that he lay beside her. It was nice. Close and comforting, warm and tender. Her arms went around his waist, and his arms snaked around hers. They shifted, their legs entwined, and with a half roll his firm, warm body was over hers.

The way Lucien lay atop her—so close, their bodies so tight—she couldn't help but feel his response to the kiss that went on and on. She felt it not only in the length that pressed against her, but in the kiss itself. He did want her. Did his body thrum, as hers did? Did he ache?

His mouth left hers, slowly and reluctantly. "When you asked me to stay here with you..." He stopped speaking and shook his head slowly. "You were still scared. You didn't know what you were asking. I can sleep on the sofa in the parlor." He almost choked on the words.

She didn't have a single doubt. "When I asked you to stay I meant stay here," she said. "Right where you are, in my bed with me. You belong here. This night has been too long in coming, Lucien."

"It has," he agreed.

"I don't want to lose one precious moment, worrying about what I should do and what's proper and... and whether or not you love me enough."

"I do love you," he said, reaching out to pluck a tortoiseshell comb from her hair. "I never stopped." One by one he removed the combs that held her hair in place. When it was loose he ran his fingers through the thick, waving strands. He still touched her as if he were afraid she might break.

"I've dreamed about this," she whispered as he began to unbutton her blouse.

"So have I."

"So far, having you here is much better than any dream."

He agreed with a hum as he lowered his head to kiss her exposed throat. His lips were gentle, arousing, and they were never still. A kiss, a gentle sucking, as if he were drawing a bit of her into his mouth, the teasing flick of a tongue... and he didn't stop at her throat but trailed his wicked mouth downward.

When he reached the lacy edge of her corset, he lifted his head. "What color is the corset today, Evie?"

"White," she said. "Just plain white." White. The color of the bridal gown she didn't buy two years ago, considering such a purchase too impractical. A bright pearly shade that symbolized purity and goodness and light. "But there is lace," she said, in case he was disappointed. "And a pink ribbon."

As he began to unfasten the confining corset, his fingers nimbly working the hooks and eyes that ran down the front of the lacy undergarment, he brushed his fingers against the skin he bared. And every stroke, no matter how delicate, set her skin on fire. It was as if she were being touched for the first time. As if she had lived her entire life without human contact.

"I have never wanted or needed anything in my life the way I want you now," he whispered.

When he lowered his head to kiss her throat again, his fingers never slowing in their work, she closed her eyes and savored the knowledge that he was telling her the truth.

* * *

Lucien drifted down, covering Eve's body with his. Her honeyed strands were spread across the pillow, thick and silky, waving this way and that. His clothes were strewn across the floor and so were hers, so when he laid his body over hers they were flesh to flesh, heart to heart and thigh to thigh.

A few minutes ago his heart had been pounding with fear. The fear of losing the woman he loved, the fear of facing a life without Eve in it. Now his heart hammered against his chest for another reason altogether.

Her hands skimmed down his back, and she closed her eyes as she experienced the feel of his bare flesh, the length of his body along hers. Her lips parted, a soft sigh escaped. Her hands finally settled on his hips, where her fingers fluttered. She was shy and bold, perhaps wary of the joining that awaited her, but eager, all the same.

He kissed her mouth. She had such a fine mouth, so soft and sweet and responsive. A man could get lost in a woman who kissed like Eve did, with her heart and soul, with sweetness and passion. With innocence and sensuality, rolled together for one perfect kiss.

Her throat shuddered beneath his kiss. She was so sensitive. So ardent. And she loved him.

Love frightened him more than ghosts, murderers, preachers, and secret societies, all rolled into one. Not because he doubted his love or hers, but because he was afraid he would fail.

He wanted to give Evie everything. This night and every night to come, he wanted to make her happy. No, more than happy. He wanted her to be completely satisfied with her life, to never regret loving him, to close her eyes each and every night content.

While he flicked his tongue across the hollow at the base of her throat, Eve's legs fell a little farther apart. He felt her movement beneath him, felt the brush of her bare legs against his.

Rising up, he watched the play of his fingers against Eve's pale, rounded breasts. The coral nipples hardened as he watched; her perfectly curved breasts heaved as she breathed deep. There was not a more beautiful sight in the world, he was certain of it.

He licked one nipple first, tasted it, flicked his tongue over the tip before taking it deep into his mouth. Eve arched beneath him, pressed her body more closely to his as he suckled her, one breast and then the other. She moaned, lost in sensation. Feeling and knowing and wanting nothing but this... the way they touched.

He took her mouth once again, and she touched him, those soft fingers circling around his arousal, curious fingers testing him, learning his shape and size and heat.

"Now?" she whispered against his lips.

He was tempted, he was ready... he wanted her so badly, but... "No."

It wasn't enough that he was ready and that Eve wanted him. This was her first time,
their
first time, and he didn't simply want her to enjoy what was to come, he wanted her to scream, to shout, to find a pleasure more intense than any she had ever imagined.

Such pleasure didn't come quickly.

* * *

Everything throbbed in time with her heart; she was hot all over, and unexpected tingles worked their way through her body, one after the other. Her toes curled, her breath caught in her chest, and still Lucien kissed her. Everywhere.

He held her wrists and pinned her gently to the bed while he kissed his way down her body. He started with her fingers, kissed his way over her wrists and down her arm until he reached her inner elbow, where he lingered over the sensitive skin. Oh, more of those unexpected tingles danced through her veins.

She would never have guessed that someone who could forget to eat or catch a train or pack a nightshirt would be so incredibly detail-oriented when it came to making love.

Lucien kissed his way over one breast and then the other, and released his grip on her wrists so he could move lower, to once again trail his wicked mouth over her torso, flicking that tongue around her belly button. This time he did not stop there, but continued downward. He kissed her inner thighs, parted her legs wider, and then laid his mouth on her in a way that made her arch up and into him.

She couldn't stop the cry that left her lips, the hungry moan that begged for more. He gave her more. His tongue worked magic, his fingers joined in. Sensations she had never known existed began to surge through her body.

Ribbons of pleasure whipped through her, unexpected and so powerful she could think of nothing else. Her hips rocked, she quivered against Lucien's mouth. His caress grew harder, faster, more ardent, until her climax hit her and she cried out, her hips coming off the bed as Lucien grasped her in his hands and tasted her response.

She sank to the bed, shaking, exhausted, unable to breathe. No single part of her body was unaffected by the experience; she would never be the same.

Lucien climbed up over her body like a cat, a satisfied smile on his face.

"You're completely and totally wicked," she said breathlessly.

"Thank you."

She rolled up, gave Lucien a smile of her own, and gently pushed him onto his back. "I want to be completely and totally wicked," she said, reaching out to take hold of his erection. She didn't know if she could ever be so bold, if she could ever be completely without restraint, as Lucien was.

"In time," he whispered.

If she had learned nothing else, she had learned that to waste a moment of this life was foolish, the most foolish mistake of all. Her fingers tested and teased, learned the shape and size of Lucien with fingers much bolder than she had thought she could possess. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and she watched his face as she caressed his length.

Heaven above, he was beautiful. Every desire, every emotion he felt, was on his face for her, and the world, to see. No wonder he didn't like to lie. A simple falsehood would probably show on his face so clearly he couldn't fool a child.