LUCIEN: A Standalone Romance (5 page)

Lucien

When Jacob found out that Adrienne would be joining us at the beach house this weekend, he suddenly remembered some paperwork he needed to finish at the office. For that reason, Adrienne and I drove out alone. She interrogated me the first forty minutes of the drive, probing my thoughts for any vulnerabilities that would allow someone from the outside to obtain information about our projects. But there were none. We were exceedingly careful about who saw or heard or read anything about our ongoing projects.

She grew quiet, staring out the window as we made our way toward Kemah.

“Did your people figure out who sent the email to me?”

She shook her head. “Not yet.”

There didn’t seem to be much more to talk about.

We pulled up to the house a while later. I have so many fond memories of this house that a sort of peace always settles over me when I pull into the drive. It’s really a fairly modest home. It’s designed sort of like a log cabin with a wide deck that runs all the way around the outside of the house. It has a large, open kitchen, a living room that stretches from the front door to the back deck, a fireplace the centerpiece. Then there’s four bedrooms, each larger than the last, each with its own access to the deck. And, of course, the beach is right outside the back deck, a private stretch where we could skinny dip if we so wanted. And I’d indulged once or twice, back when I was in college…

Adrienne was staring up at the house, her expression—as always—unreadable.

“We should go in,” I said.

She glanced at me. “I think we should lay down a few ground rules.”

I smiled because it seemed like we’d already broken almost any rule she might set. But I nodded.

“Hands above—”

Before she could finish, her door was wrenched open. She jumped, turning so quickly I thought she might do something crazy. It was a good thing she couldn’t hide a gun in that short little dress she was wearing. Rachel, all enthusiasm and laughter, reached in and threw her arms around her.

“I was so excited when Lucien called and said he’d be bringing a girl. Do you know how long it’s been since Lucien brought a girl home? You must really be something!”

Adrienne looked absolutely at a loss for words. It was almost refreshing.

“Let her get out of the car, Rachel.”

“Oh, yeah.”

Rachel backed off, and Adrienne looked at me, her eyes wide. I leaned close and whispered, “Sorry. My sister.”

She nodded, but she still seemed startled. I climbed out of the car, and Rachel launched herself at me, throwing her arms around my neck.

“She’s gorgeous!” she said against my ear.

“Yes, she is.”

“Your taste has changed. But I approve.”

I laughed as I carefully extracted myself from Rachel’s touch. I went around the car and helped Adrienne out, tugging her against my side as much to keep her from turning tail and running as to keep Rachel from overwhelming her any more.

“Mom and Dad are out on the back deck,” Rachel informed us. “Mom’s thrilled you’re bringing a girl, too.”

“Is that right?”

“Yeah. She said it’s about time you focus on something other than work.”

I groaned even as Adrienne glanced up at me, a spark of curiosity in her eye. I tossed my keys at Rachel.

“Make yourself useful. Take our bags to my room.”

At that, Adrienne stiffened. We hadn’t really talked about sleeping arrangements. But I’d thought she would have guessed that we’d have to share a room. Maybe not.

Mom and Karl were sharing a bottle of wine, sitting close to each other on the wicker loveseat on the back deck. Mom unfolded herself and came to me with her arms wide open as we stepped through the French doors.

“Lucien. You look well,” she said as she hugged me and laid a wet kiss on my cheek. “I’m glad you could come.”

“I wouldn’t be anywhere else.”

She smiled as she patted my cheeks. “You’re a good boy.”

Then she turned to Adrienne. “Aren’t you beautiful,” she said.

Adrienne blushed, a sight that I have to admit I enjoyed seeing. Adrienne didn’t often look uncomfortable, but she looked as though she’d prefer to be anywhere but here in this moment.

“Have some wine,” Karl called from loveseat, holding up the bottle that had been sitting on the side table beside him. He always seemed to know how to defuse an awkward situation.

I tugged at Adrienne’s hand and led the way to the matching wicker couch, pulling her down beside me as Karl poured the wine. She was stiff as I slid my arm around her, but she slowly relaxed as she sipped the wine and Karl stirred the conversation to neutral things, such as the weather and the traffic coming out of the city.

And then the tornado that was Rachel descended on us.

“How did you meet? How long have you been seeing each other? What do you do for a living? Are you into biotechnology too?”

The questions came like the staccato of machine gun fire. Adrienne stared at her like she couldn’t quite wrap her mind around what she was saying. I tugged her close, dropping a kiss on her forehead before turning to Rachel.

“Hey. We’re going to be here all weekend. Maybe you could take a deep breath?”

Mom laughed. “Yeah, Rachel. Give the girl a break.”

“Sorry,” Rachel said, folding herself into a chair. “I’m just curious. The last girl Lucien brought home was Kelly. And we all remember how that ended.”

Yeah. Don’t like to be reminded.

Adrienne glanced up at me, and I became aware that I was the one who’d stiffened now. Again, there was the slightest spark of curiosity in her eyes. And, for the first time since this charade began, she touched me without me having to touch her first. She ran her hand slowly up the length of my chest, letting it rest just above my heart. I found myself wondering what that was about even as I leaned close and kissed her gently.

I was aware of my family watching. But I was also aware that Adrienne was responding to me more freely every time I touched her. And I liked that.

Karl cleared his throat and started talking about a street fair that was happening downtown tomorrow. I only half heard him. Adrienne had my bottom lip between her teeth, and her fingers were sliding under the unbuttoned edge of my shirt, her nails scraping ever so lightly against my skin. And my hand was sliding slowly over her hip, tugging her a little closer against me as my thoughts began moving places they shouldn’t be going.

It had been a long time since I’d had a woman in my life. Even a temporary woman.

There was a blush on Adrienne’s cheeks when she broke the kiss, reaching for her glass of wine. I watched her sip the deep red liquid, the heat not cooling as quickly as it probably should have.

This was going to be a very long weekend.

Adrienne

I’d slipped away the moment dinner was finished, sneaking into the room Lucien had pointed out as ours. I don’t remember ever feeling quite this overwhelmed. I’d seen combat in Afghanistan, and I still couldn’t remember that being as overwhelming as this. I’d known what to do then. I was so far out of my comfort zone here that I felt like I was drowning and the only way out of it was to curl up in the arms of a man I barely knew.

I had my cellphone in my hand, determined to call my father and demand that he pull me out of here. This was ridiculous! How could I spend the entire weekend with this man I didn’t care about, this man who, under ordinary circumstances, I would never look twice at? This man whose touch made my heart pound in my chest, this man whose touch made me want things I’d never wanted before?

When he kissed me the first time, it was awkward. But now? Maybe if he wasn’t so good at it, it wouldn’t be such a complicated thing. Why did he have to be so damn good at it?

I sat on the edge of the massive, king-sized bed and buried my face in my hands for a minute. And the way he looked at me… All through dinner I could feel his eyes on me. But not just his. That sister of his was so curious. She stared at me, watched my every move, hung on every word out of my mouth. I felt like she was watching for the smallest mistake, the proof that I wasn’t what I was claiming to be. What would happen if she figured it out? Would she blow my cover? What if the potential thief was here at this house right now? What if she blew our investigation, and everything Lucien had worked on was ruined? I couldn’t let that happen.

I just… I felt like I was about to fight the biggest battle of my life, and I was completely unprepared.

“They can be a little overwhelming, can’t they?”

I jumped, startled by the sound of Jacob’s deep voice. I hadn’t even realized he’d arrived at the house, let alone had found me behind the closed door of Lucien’s bedroom.

He was watching me from his casual stance leaning against the doorframe.

“When did you get here?”

“Just a few minutes ago.”

He pushed away from the door and came deeper into the room, his eyes falling to my open suitcase on the end of the bed. One of those fancy bras Theresa made me buy was sitting on top, its rounded cups leaving little mystery as to what it was meant to hold. The way he bit his bottom lip made me feel uncomfortable, as though we were doing something for which I should rush to confession to clear my soul of.

I stood and backed up a little.

“We should go back out.”

“In a minute.” Jacob’s eyes came up to mine, his dark eyes like little pebbles as he studied my face. “Lucien isn’t like most of the men you’ve probably dated. He’s not the kind who brings a woman home lightly.”

I gestured toward the French doors that led out onto the back deck where we could hear the low voices of his parents. “Your sister has made that pretty clear.”

“He’s had his heart broken as often as the rest of us. Maybe more,” he continued, as though I hadn’t spoken. “He’s been through a lot in his life. He doesn’t deserve to be hurt again.”

“We’ve only just met, Jacob.”

“That’s why I’m telling you this.” His eyes moved slowly over me, lingering in places where they shouldn’t have. I crossed my arms over my chest, and that brought his attention back to my face. “I won’t stand idly by and watch you break his heart. Little bar flies like you are a dime a dozen. But Lucien…” He shook his head. “He’s worth so much more than that.”

Anger burned in my chest. A bar fly? I wasn’t some little slut who hung out in dark bars just waiting for some guy to have pity on me and buy me a drink. I had so much more self-respect than that. I could take this guy out with one well-placed punch to the throat. And I would have, under any other circumstances.

But this was a case. It was my job to keep Lucien safe. Knocking out his brother wasn’t going to do that.

“What’s going on?”

I turned, relieved for once to see Lucien’s tall frame standing just a few feet away.

“Nothing,” Jacob said, his eyes moving over me one last time. “Just saying hello.”

“I’d say you’ve done that. So maybe you’ll give us a little privacy?”

Jacob nodded, ducking around Lucien without really looking at him. Lucien shut the door and stood there for a moment, resting his head against the cool wood for a long moment.

“I was just sitting here, and he came—”

“Could you get some juice out of that fridge for me?” Lucien said, interrupting me.

I glanced at him. He hadn’t moved, but still stood with his head against the door. I’d seen the small fridge tucked into a corner near the bed, but hadn’t really registered what it was. I wondered why he couldn’t get his own damn juice, but I went over there and grabbed one of these little pouches of juice that parents buy for their toddlers and carried it to him. He didn’t look up, and when he reached for it, his hand was shaking.

“Could you do the straw?” he asked.

There was something off about the tone of his voice. Was he angry at me for being alone in here with Jacob? It wasn’t like we were really a couple, despite all the touching and the kisses we’d exchanged. He really had no right to be angry.

I stabbed the straw into the bag and handed it back to him. He sipped at it, his eyes closed as he continued to stand with his back to me. When it was empty, he dropped it onto the floor and pulled something out of his pocket that looked like a small handheld game console or something.

Hell of a time to play games.

He watched its screen for a moment. I peeked at it, saw nothing more than a graph, the number fifty-five, and an arrow that was pointed downward.

“I’m sorry. Could you get me another juice?” he asked, his voice kind of weak.

I didn’t understand. But I was beginning to think there was something odd going on.

I got another bag of juice and pushed the straw into it without waiting for him to ask. He drank that one down too, then moved to a chair, sitting back like he’d just finished running a marathon or something.

“What’s going on? What is that thing?”

He looked at the device in his hand like he’d forgotten it was there. He held it up, turned so that I could see that the number was now a fifty-nine and the arrow was gone.

“It’s a continuous glucose monitor.”

“Glucose?”

He nodded. “I’m diabetic. Have been since I was six.”

I don’t know why it surprised me, but it did. I studied him, searching him for something that I’d missed before. I don’t know what I expected to see, but I felt like there should be some physical sign. Something that should have told me that he wasn’t all he appeared to be.

He sat up a little and pulled his shirt out of his pants. “Do you want to see?” he asked even as he lifted the shirt up high enough that it revealed washboard abs and two odd looking objects attached to his belly. One was about the size of a half dollar, a white piece of gauze with a clear plastic thing attached to a long, thin tube. The other was roughly the same size, but it was thicker, heavier. And it wasn’t attached to anything.

“Insulin pump,” he said, flicking his finger against the first item. “Glucose transmitter,” he said, touching the other.

I was at a loss for words. I don’t know where I was going, but I got up and headed toward the door. He grabbed me just as my hand touched the knob, and spun me around.

“Does it make me weak in your eyes?”

“What?” I was startled. I didn’t know what to say.

“Does it make me weak? Less of a man?”

“I… No, it doesn’t. But you should have told me.”

“Why?”

I started to shake my head, but he ran his hand over my throat and grabbed my jaw, forcing my head still.

“Some women think it’s a weakness. An infirmity. Like I’m not really a man because I have a chronic illness that can knock me flat on my ass at any moment.” He ran his thumb over my bottom lip. “Do you think that?”

I thought about a man I’d served with. I’d visited him in the VA hospital a few months after I left the Army. He’d been injured when a grenade went off too close to him as he walked his patrol one night. Shrapnel damaged his leg so badly that it had to be amputated. His wife hadn’t been to the hospital to see him because he couldn’t stand the idea that she might look at him differently.

“You don’t need a leg to be a man.”

I’d meant it. And I meant it when I touched the side of Lucien’s face and said, “If you think this makes you less of a man, then your definition of masculinity and mine are two very different things.”

He stared at me for a long moment, like he couldn’t wrap his mind around what I’d just said. And then his mouth was on mine, and I slid my arms around his neck, buried my fingers in his hair, and pulled him tight against me.

We kissed roughly, lips mashing and teeth getting in the way. His hands moved low over my hips, and he lifted me, pulling up against the smooth wood of the door until we were face to face. I wrapped my legs around his waist, clinging to him as the material of my dress betrayed me by sliding up over my thighs, exposing my upper thighs to his touch. And touch he did, running his hands over the silky material of my new panties, his fingertips brushing places they never should have known.

I didn’t know much about Lucien. I didn’t know anything about this girlfriend who’d apparently broken his heart. I didn’t know why he hadn’t brought any other women home in the past few years. I didn’t know what his favorite color was, if he liked music, if he watched movies late at night when he couldn’t sleep. But I knew he was a damn good kisser and he was doing a service to humanity in his work. And I knew he was as masculine as any man I’d served with in the military.

I knew that I shouldn’t want this. I shouldn’t want his touch. But I also knew that his touch did things to my body that made me forget that I shouldn’t want this.

He turned and carried me to the bed, controlling the fall so that he didn’t land too roughly on top of me. But the weight of his body was reassuring, just the same. I slid my hands under his shirt, drawing it up over the heavy muscles I could feel rippling just under the skin as he tugged at my dress, trying to get it out of his way. His shirt disappeared as he broke out kiss and sat up a little, exposing once again those washboard abs that made my fingers itch to touch. And his chest… Those pecs were as well defined as any I’d seen at boot camp. I sat up too, lifted my arms so he could pull my dress over my head. His eyes moved over my new bra, and I was actually happy I’d spent the money, happy that his eyes looked like those of a hungry animal who’d just set his sights on the perfect prey.

He pressed his lips to my throat, and I rolled my head back, gave him access to everything he wanted. My nipples strained, needing his touch. He tugged at the clasp between my heaving breasts, tugged until it finally came free and the cups loosened. And then his hand was sliding underneath, the heat of his touch, the pressure on my nipple, drawing a moan from the depths of my throat. And then his mouth…
Oh, my God!
If I thought he knew what to do with a simple kiss… He was quite the expert with that tongue in other places, too.

I lay back against the pillows again, my fingers buried in his hair as he took his time nibbling and tasting and… There were no words for the things he was doing to me. I forgot where I was. I forgot why I was there. I just wanted his touch, wanted to feel him everywhere.

He made his way slowly down my body, every nerve in my body coming alive as he tugged at my panties and pulled them slowly down the length of my legs. I don’t know what made my head spin more, the feel of his fingers caressing my body gently, or the look in his eye as he took in every inch of my naked flesh.

I’d never felt adored. I’d heard that phrase before, seen it in erotic stories that were my secret shame. But I’d never understood it until tonight, until I saw it in his eyes. The way he looked at me, the way his eyes caressed me more gently than his hands… I knew what it meant. And I knew I would never forget the way it felt.

And then he blew me away again as he lifted a foot to his mouth, kissing the very bottom before moving over my ankle, along my calf, taking his time behind my knee, working his way slowly up the length of me. I knew where he was headed, knew what he planned for me. My clit stood on end, waiting for the moment he would finally pay attention to it, something deep in my belly aching for the moment he would turn his attention to that, too. My body had never known such pleasure before, but it seemed to understand the potential of what lay ahead, and it anticipated it with such eagerness that I no longer had control over what would or would not happen next.

I had to bite down hard on my lip to keep from crying out. I was vaguely aware that we could still hear his family out on the back deck. If we could hear them, they could hear us. But that thought was like a foreign idea, something I knew I should be worried about, but couldn’t quite grasp. And then he was twirling my clit around behind his front teeth, and I was gone. All thought was just gone. All I was aware of was the tingle of pleasure that continuously rushed up and down the length of my spine.

I sat up a little, pressed him closer to me with a hand against the back of his head. He pulled back to catch his breath, and I caught the smile of satisfaction on his lips. And then…
Oh, hell!
Why had I never known how good this could be?