When I’m with You (Because You Are Mine #2)(51)
Author: Beth Kery

“But you already knew how I felt, how desperate I was getting. You were being cruel by withholding yourself from me,” she blurted out against his skin.

He cupped the back of her skull. She lifted her head, even though she couldn’t see him in the darkness. “I wasn’t being cruel. I was waiting.”

She stilled. “Waiting for what?”

“For you to tell me what you desired. What you needed.”

“But I have been telling you!”

“Have you?”

His rich, quiet voice ran over her in the darkness, making her skin tingle. The question kept ringing in her head. Hadn’t she been telling him? She’d made it clear she was sexually available. She’d agreed to this arrangement. Lucien couldn’t possibly deny that, could he?

“I have specifically told you I wanted us to be lovers, even agreeing to this unorthodox relationship you’ve suggested.”

“That isn’t the desire I’ve been waiting to hear,” he said, his fingertip rubbing the base of her skull in a manner that lulled her, despite her pique and confusion. She opened her lips to demand more information, but then he spread his large hand across her cheek and jaw, and his mouth was closing over hers in a melting kiss. By the time he lifted his mouth, her greatest desire was right on the tip of her tongue.

“Go to sleep,” he said.

“But—”

He pressed her head back down to his chest and gathered her closer in his arms. She bit her lower lip when she felt his cock stir against her thigh. “You showed discretion by wearing these pajamas. You’re respecting my wishes instead of flaunting yourself, when you know how difficult it would be for me to resist.”

She just lay there, part of her brain busy absorbing his words, the other portion focused on the sensation of his growing erection.

“You’re going running with Francesca very early, aren’t you?” he murmured.

“Yes,” she mumbled. With all the tumultuous events of the day, she’d forgotten about that. Suddenly, her muscles felt too weary to even consider moving, let alone running for miles. “I’ll have to set an alarm,” she said sleepily, nuzzling Lucien’s skin with her nose appreciatively.

“I already set it for you.”

“Thank you,” she said, sincerely grateful. It was sweet of him, to have thought of her.

“Go to sleep. It’s been a long day for both of us. I rode you hard and rough in those stables. Any woman would need a night to recover from that, let alone a virgin.”

“A once-virgin,” she corrected drowsily. “And I’m perfectly well.”

He made a sound of rough irritation and amusement, which caused regret to soak into her awareness yet again. Despite his tone, his long fingers trailed down her spine, caressing her, making her limbs go heavy with exhaustion. How could he be annoyed and yet touch her so cherishingly?

“Good night, ma chère.”

It was the last thing she heard before she sunk into the rich decadence of sleeping in Lucien’s arms.

* * *

The next morning, Francesca and she jogged side by side, Elise watching with wonder as the round, red ball of the sun crested the shimmering blue lake.

“I’m not sure I’ve ever seen a sunrise before,” she murmured as they jogged.

Francesca gave her a surprised glance, sending the end of her rose-gold ponytail across her shoulder. They’d met up before dawn in front of the building where Ian’s penthouse was located. Elise had left her backpack filled with things for work with the doorman and Francesca and she had taken off together in the predawn light. This was their first time running together and they were well matched as partners.

“Really? The first time?”

“I’ve seen them before, of course,” Elise said. She noticed Francesca’s bewildered expression at her seeming contradiction. “Sorry. I guess I was sort of thinking out loud. I just feel really awake this morning. Good. It’s like I’ve looked at a sunset before, but never really seen it. Have you ever felt that way?”

Francesca’s dark eyes had a faraway look. “Yes. I think I know what you mean. I remember one early morning in Paris when I was with Ian. It was like the sunlight was hitting the world in a way that made it shine. Everything seemed new.” Seeming to realize how dreamy she’d sounded, she cast Elise a rueful glance. Elise gave her a reassuring smile.

“Funny, that you should feel more alive than ever before in Paris. It’s where I felt most dead.”

Francesca looked at her speculatively. “I’ve gotten the impression from some of the things you’ve said in conversation that you led a very . . . privileged life there.”

“I also led a very empty one.”

“And you’re happier now,” Francesca more stated rather than asked, her gaze steady on Elise’s profile.

“Yes. Oh, yes.”

Francesca turned to look at the sunrise. For a few moments, only the sound of the light waves, their padding tennis shoes on the pavement, and the muted traffic noise on Lake Shore Drive hit Elise’s ears. “You’re right.” Francesca smiled. “That sunrise is spectacular. Thanks for pointing it out.”

“You’re welcome,” Elise said, smiling back.

“You sound very taken with . . . Chicago,” Francesca said. Elise raised her eyebrows in surprise at the other woman’s knowing smile. “Does that mean you plan to stay here when your training is complete?”

“That’s my goal, yes. I have an idea. Some plans.”

“What plans?”

Elise hesitated, tempted to be honest by Francesca’s sincere curiosity. She liked Francesca, instinctively feeling comfortable with her. Still . . . she hadn’t had the nerve to reveal this to anyone yet. Her secret aspirations made her feel very vulnerable.

“I have this idea about opening a unique type of restaurant that caters to people recovering from addiction. Not just for them, of course—anyone can come—but with them in mind. And not just a restaurant—a coffee bar and a club that offers music, maybe live bands and dancing. It’s really hard for people with substance abuse issues to go out and have a great time without being tempted by alcohol. Being surrounded by liquor is a real trigger, not just for alcoholics but for all substance abusers.

“You sound very knowledgeable about it,” Francesca said cautiously.

Elise flashed her a smile. “I’m not an alcoholic or drug abuser, if that’s what you’re wondering. Although I had my period of partying until dawn, I could walk away from the booze. But yeah—I know something about it.” She inhaled for courage. “I had a very good friend die from a heroin overdose.”