Lucien (24 page)

“Might as well.” The bartender set two beers in front of them and Ben grabbed one. “Do I even want to know why you’re here?”

“Probably not.” Luc picked at the paper label on the bottle. “I suppose Elise called you.”

“She did.”

Luc ripped the label from the bottle. “She should be sleeping like I told her.”

Ben grumbled under his breath, “Elise isn’t asleep. I was almost asleep.” He sighed. “What did you and Elise fight about?”

“Nothing. We didn’t fight.”

“If you didn’t fight, then… what the hell are you doing here?”

Luc turned the bottle in his hand and contemplated why he was here. “I needed to think.”

“About what?”

“About… did I tell you Elise’s idea for marketing the prototypes?”

“You mentioned it.” Ben’s eyes narrowed. “You haven’t told Elise about the heir, have you?”

Luc decided to ignore Ben’s question.

Ben shook his head. “You’re pathetic.”

Luc nodded. “Thanks.”

“When do you plan on telling Elise?”

“I’m not.”

Ben braced his forearms on the bar and steepled his fingers. “Why not?”

“Because I don’t need to. About the idea—”

“Luc.” Ben paused, drew in a deep breath, and sat up straight. “We’ve known each other for a long time. I like to think that if you’ve got a problem, you can come to me and—”

“Elise might be pregnant.” A tingling of excitement and happiness exploded in his stomach as he said it out loud.

“That didn’t take long.” Ben smirked. “Congratulations.”

“Thanks.” Luc picked up a handful of pretzels and dropped them on a napkin in front of him. “This ought to make Old Lucas happier than a pig in—”

“And your mother,” Ben pointed out. “But the real question is… how do you feel about it?”

“Me?” Luc washed down a pretzel and contemplated the bizarre mix of emotions he’d been suffering since leaving Elise on the bed. “I’m fine with it.”

“Uh-huh. You sound thrilled,” Ben commented dryly.

“I’m thrilled. Ecstatic. Scared. You name it and I’m feeling it.”

“Ah, now I get it.” Ben turned up his beer at the mouth. “You’re wallowing in guilt, because you didn’t tell Elise.”

“I should have told her.”

“Yep. You should have, but you didn’t.”

“I can’t tell her now,” Luc stated more for himself than for Ben.

“Why not?”

“Because she loves me.”

“Man, you’re just now figuring that out?” Ben’s smile was sad as he shook his head. “Why couldn’t it have been me? Luc, you’re married to the woman of my dreams and she’s so in love with you that it hurts me to look at her. To have a woman who looks at me the way she does you…? You don’t know how good you have it. I would kill to switch places with you.”

“You sound like you’re in love with her.”

“Yeah?” A humorless laugh and Ben added, “Well, maybe I am. And maybe I don’t like the idea of you not telling her about your grandfather’s plans for the heir. But, hey, why should I complain? When Elise gives you a son and Old Lucas swoops down to claim his heir and she finds out about your little omission, I’m gonna make damn sure I’m around to be the shoulder she cries on.” Ben finished his beer and stood up. “Have fun wallowing in your guilt.”

“You can’t have her,” Luc told him. “She’s mine.”

“Yeah, you just keep on telling yourself that. Man up and go home, Luc, before I do it for you.” Ben turned on his heel and was gone.

Elise jumped as the laundry room door flew open and slammed into the wall.

“What the hell are you doing,” Luc demanded.

“What does it look like I’m doing?” Elise turned her back on him and went back to ironing the pillow cases. She’d been mad two hours ago, now she was livid.

“You’re supposed to be in bed.”

“Oh really? How interesting.” She finished that pillow case and started on another. “Did you have a nice midnight snack?” Sarcasm dripped from her sugar coated words.

“Dammit, woman, stop doing that and—”

Elise spun around and threatened him with the hissing iron. “Just try and make me stop.”

The air crackled with tension as they stood there glaring at each other, waiting for the other to make the first move.

“Put the iron down, Elise.” A muscle worked in his cheek and she steeled herself against the exhaustion written in his features.

“No.”

“Yes.”

“No.”

He moved faster than she could react and yanked the iron from her death grip, jerked the cord from the wall, then threw her over his shoulder. “I said yes.”

“Put me down!” She pounded on his back and kicked, but he didn’t put her down. He slammed the iron down on the kitchen counter as he carried her toward the bedroom. “Lucien, put me down this—” The bedroom door slammed shut and the air whooshed out of her lungs as he dropped her on the bed, then followed her down.

He caught her wrists and pinned them above her head with one hand. “You’re mine,” he said, then claimed her mouth in an open mouthed, purely carnal kiss.

Her mind reeled under the pressure of it and her body woke, tasting the alcohol and rage in him. The stubble on his cheek scratched her chin as he slanted his mouth across hers demanding and taking in a way he’d never done before. His hand moved underneath her shirt, the hot roughness of his palm scraping against her skin and cupping a breast. “Mine.” He released her wrists and went up on his knees, ripped the edges of the shirt apart, then crushed her to the mattress.

“Luc—” His mouth found hers again and drowned out her confusion and anger turning it into primal hunger. They rolled across the bed, fighting to shred the other’s clothes. There was no time to think, only to act and to want, feel, need. His mouth and hands were everywhere, tasting her, loving her, teasing, taking. He made her moan with pleasure, groan in frustration, scream with release. And when she thought she had given all he wanted, he rolled her over pulling her up onto her hands and knees, opening her body to another wave of sensations that made her hunger anew. In one swift, hard stroke he entered her from behind, his breath rasping against her ear, one hand locked on her hip, the other cupping her front, his chest grazing the arched curve of her spine.

Her fingers curled around the rumpled sheet, bunching it in her grip, and she threw her head back, grinding herself against him. This time she would not be alone in her pleasure—she would make him scream. She was wild, wanton, and relentless against him. He groaned and she pushed harder, squeezed tighter, undulating against him in a primitive motion he’d taught her well, and showed him that he was as much hers as she was his.

His fingers dug into her hips, stilling her, but she didn’t let him stop her. She arched her back, turned her head, reaching around with one hand to grab his neck, and dragged his mouth to hers, then she pushed him over the edge, drinking in his muffled shout and giving him hers in return.

They collapsed as one to the bed, lying chest to back, panting for their next breath, and hearing nothing but the pounding of their own hearts. Elise closed her eyes, wondering if she would ever be able to move again and knowing that she didn’t care if she did. Luc pulled the sheet over them, then she felt his hand move around and rest on her stomach.

She yawned and was a hair’s breadth away from sleep when he whispered, “I didn’t know how to live until I met you.”

Sleep receded like an ebbing tide. Did he just say what she thought he said?
No, he couldn’t have.
She replayed his words in her mind and her eyes nearly popped out of her head.
Oh-mi-word, he did just say what I thought he said.

But did it
mean
what she thought it meant? Did he just tell her that he loved her? Giddy with anticipation, Elise drew in a deep breath and prepared to interrogate him on the scope, depth, and meaning of his coded confession. “Luc?”

There was no response. She wiggled in his embrace and called his name again. Louder this time. Nothing. Not a blink, twitch, snore, or even mumbled protest.

Elise stopped herself before she cursed him up one side and down the other. The durn man was asleep, dead to the world. She closed her eyes and growled under her breath, contemplating the many, many ways she’d exact her revenge on him for daring fall asleep during what she deemed one of
the
most important conversations of their marriage.

A long while later and after an annoyingly convoluted argument with her overactive intellect, Elise closed her eyes and accepted the truth. They
would
revisit this discussion and he
would
give her the words she’d waited a lifetime to hear. But she wouldn’t press him for it. Not now and not because she didn’t crave to push him into admitting he loved her.

Instead, she’d bide her time and let him come to her. It’d kill her, yes, but she’d rather have the words given to her freely than force a confession he may later regret. Or worse, retract.

Until then when he’d come to his senses, she’d distract herself and focus her attention on the other idea she’d had plenty of time to think about during his disappearing act earlier. Namely, going home and moving into their house. Because to turn that idea into a reality, she’d need every brain cell she possessed to
subtly
influence her husband into guiding his best friend on making the right decision about buying Intrinsic Incorporated. Once that was firmly lodged in his head, she’d watch and patiently wait while Ben and Luc argued with their inner knights in shining armor until they gave in and executed exactly what Hands and Eyes Bingley deserved.

Elise chuckled to herself. It was an evil sound and one she suspected that proved she truly was her father’s daughter. Because once the distraction of the company out of the way, she’d then redouble her efforts on proving to her husband she was in the role she’d been born to fulfill. Namely, as the woman he loved heart, mind, body, and soul. The only woman he’d allow to stand behind him and subtly maneuver him into doing the right things for all interested parties.

So yeah, she’d let Lucien off the hook this time. But he was on borrowed time. He had a week—no more, no less—to come up to snuff. After that, the gloves would come off and she’d make darn sure there wasn’t a thing around he could use as a distraction to run from giving her the three little words she saw in his eyes every time he looked her way.

Luc glanced at his watch. Elise had been back with the doctor for twenty minutes. Considering how many people were sitting in the waiting area, she’d probably be another twenty minutes. He got up and found a water fountain, then returned to the waiting room, settled himself down with the only men’s magazine in the room, and tried to forget his anxiety.

He scanned a couple of fitness tips, skimmed through the letters to the editor, then found himself immersed in an article about relationships. Most of the tips mentioned in the article were common sense—especially considering that he’d grown up in a house with four women. Women like romance, attention, flowers, chocolate, and monogamy. Women associate sex with love. Women like to—

He stopped reading.

His wife loved him. She’d said it. He knew her well enough to know that she didn’t say things she didn’t mean. Well, if women associated sex with love, then it was no wonder Elise loved him. Her and her tight little body rocked his world. She gave more in the bedroom than he’d imagined possible. She trusted him beyond comprehension and had the power to knock him to his knees with a look, smile, touch, word. And she loved him.