When I'm With You: The Complete Novel (6 page)

“You . . . you want to be more than friends?” she asked weakly.

His gaze looked hungry as it flickered over her face. “You must know I find you attractive. If you recall, at one time, our parents even wanted us to marry.”

She couldn’t believe she was hearing him say this.
Of course
she recalled it. “My mother told me you completely dismissed the idea.”

“Naturally, I dismissed it. I was twenty-six when they first mentioned it. You were nineteen. I hadn’t seen you in five years. Do you really think I’d do anything but shoot down the idea before they got too far in spinning their web?”

Elise thought of the four people who were Lucien’s and her parents and his reference to them as calculating spiders.

“No. Of course not,” she said, perfectly seeing his point. If she recalled correctly, she’d been equally as dismissive when her mother oh-so-casually mentioned the topic. Her blood had quickened at the idea of seeing Lucien again—of something happening between them—but as in all things, she would never consider letting her mother notice that something mattered to her. She routinely downplayed romantic interests to Madeline, knowing the firsthand consequence of putting her heart on her sleeve when it came to her mother. It’d happened once, when she was very young, that she’d confessed her childish hopes to her mother about a beautiful teenage boy named Aaron. The day she’d accidentally witnessed Aaron’s body twined around her mother’s voluptuous curves like an adolescent boa constrictor had silenced Elise forever in that regard.

Besides, the scions of old, wealthy families were always contemptuous of their parents’ territory-building through arranged marriage. Defiance was the only defense they possessed. She’d said something flippant and hard every time her mother brought up the topic of Lucien again.

“Why are you bringing up our parents’ ancient wishes now?” she asked slowly.

“Not because I’m proposing marriage,” he said, a slow, sardonic smile shaping his mouth.
Damn those dimples.

She blinked. “No, of course not. I realize that,” she assured quickly, embarrassed.

“I just bring it up because the concept of us having a relationship isn’t all that far-fetched, although what I’m proposing is hardly something our parents would have condoned. No. This is just about you and me and our needs.”

You and me and our needs.

For a moment the silence seemed to press down on her until she felt as if she couldn’t breathe. She’d wanted Lucien for so long, but he’d remained an impossible, elusive fantasy. Was all that about to change?

“Did you know what you were doing when you walked in here today, pretending to be my chef?” he asked quietly.

Her mouth fell open in surprise at his question. “I was fighting for something I want. Very much. I was hoping to convince you.”

“I don’t think that’s what you were doing. Not entirely anyway.”

She laughed at his absolute confidence. “Please, enlighten me then.”

“I think you came here because of what I said last night. You’ve always run like an out-of-control wildfire, Elise. You knew I would give you a limit to your world, a measure of control that you sorely need. You threw down the gauntlet when you walked in here today and pretended to be my new chef. Well, I accept your dare. If you play by my rules.”

His quietly spoken words roared in her ears.

“I’m not sure what you mean.” She meant it, but something about the hard edge to his voice and the dangerous glint in his light eyes caused her skin to prickle with heightened awareness. Was it fear that mingled with her confusion, or was it excitement?

His gaze flickered over her face thoughtfully. “The wild child of the European social circuit, partying with the royals, flitting from one career to another . . . from one man to another. You’ve been the very embodiment of self-indulgence,” he mused.

“That part of my life is over,” she stated with much more confidence than she felt. It was her greatest fear that she wasn’t strong enough, that her lofty goals and aspirations were a façade draped over a hollow center. Ever since her friend Michael had been found dead, she’d vowed to change. But what did she really know about taking control of her life, of making it worthwhile? Precious little.

“It’s very hard to turn over a new leaf. If you are to be successful in this venture, a degree of self-control will be required.”

“I’m perfectly capable of looking out for myself,” she said with regal dismissiveness.

“I look forward to witnessing it.”

“Well you will,” she retorted hotly, realizing too late how defensive she’d sounded in response to his calm manner. She bristled, self-doubt and uncertainty rising in her when he merely studied her. “But what about . . . the other?”

“The other?” he asked, eyebrows going up. Helplessness twined with excitement in her chest. She had never been so confused by a man in her life.

“You were insinuating you wanted us to . . .” She trailed off as she lamely pointed at him, herself, and him again in a joining gesture. Join
how
, precisely? He wasn’t saying. Her desperation grew when he didn’t rush to assist her. “Do you
want
me, Lucien?”

“Of course I want you. You’re the most tempting creature I’ve ever laid eyes on.”

Her mouth fell open in shock at that. He was usually so stoic, so understated. Nothing could have taken her more off guard than his bald admission.

“You sent me away. In Paris, that night.” She listened to her heart pounding in the silence that followed.

“I didn’t send you away because I didn’t want you, Elise. I sent you away because you’re dangerous.”

“To your person?” she laughed.

“To my peace of mind. You’re like a thorn in a man’s flesh,” he muttered. “But none of that matters now. You walked in here today, and as I said, I think you were telling me something significant by doing that. Don’t you?”

She found it hard to meet his steady stare. “Maybe,” she conceded breathlessly.

“I’m not asking you to leave. If you go, it’ll be by your choice.”

Something about his honesty helped her find her courage. “You must know I’m attracted to you as well. I have been for as long as I can remember,” she admitted shakily.

His body jerked slightly. He caught himself and remained unmoving. For a split second, she thought he was going to straighten and . . . do
something
. Hold her?

“I will be the one to set the rules, Elise,” he said instead.

“Why?” she asked, back to being bewildered.

“Because it’s in my nature to be the dominant during sex.”

She just stared at him. A frisson of excitement went through her belly and flickered between her thighs.

“Surely you know about such proclivities?” he prompted.

She swallowed thickly. Yes, she knew. Not by direct experience. Typically, Elise liked to be the one to call the shots. Not in a dominatrix manner. It’s just that she typically got her own way, and that included sexual interaction. What Lucien said had struck her as both alien and exciting at once.

“Of course I do,” she blustered, trying to hide her confusion. She didn’t want him to think she was naïve, but well . . . she
was
, in many ways. Most of the people who considered her the irrepressible, wild
coquine
would be shocked to know just how inexperienced she was.

“It’s very simple. You’re very beautiful. I want you. It would give me great pleasure to see you submit, for once in your life. You require discipline,” he said firmly, his mouth curving into a god-awful sexy smile. “Besides, if you are determined to stay in Chicago, I want you close.”

“So you can keep tabs on me? Keep me in line?” she asked, insulted.

“Yes, to be honest.”

Their eyes met and he sobered. “And if we are to see each other, I will be the one to call the shots. Do you agree to this? Can you give up control to me?”

She bit her lip uncertainly. “Will this be an exclusive arrangement?”

“Yes. I won’t be sexually involved with another woman for the time period we are together. I expect sexual fidelity from you as well. In fact, I demand it,” he said in a harder tone with a pointed glance.

Her heart seemed to have swelled past its typical confines and was pressing into her throat. “And just how do you plan on keeping me in line?” she managed sarcastically, still insulted by his insinuation that he wanted to engage in this relationship to control her while she was in Chicago.

“At the moment? I will spank you by hand.”

She noticed him studying her reaction closely and strained for a neutral expression. He heart gave up pretending, however, and started running a race in her chest cavity.

“As I said, even though you may not have been entirely aware of it, I believe that’s why you came here. I want you to know that I won’t put up with your manipulation. I will punish you every time you defy me in the future. I will punish you every time I see you engaging in impulsive or unsafe behaviors. I will discipline you every time you lie to me.”

Nothing could have prepared her for what he’d said. The word
punishment
took on layers of new meaning when uttered in Lucien’s low, sexy voice . . . dark, forbidden, exciting complexities. Part of her was shocked, and yet another part wasn’t surprised at all.

She laughed incredulously, even though panic started to rise in her as she observed his calm, unruffled manner.

“You’re flipping mad,” she breathed out, hiding her bewilderment.

He regarded her through a hooded gaze.

“Those are my terms. I have told you that I want you. But I won’t have you running amok in my life if you plan to live in Chicago. One, I don’t need the drama. Two, I couldn’t abide witnessing it.” Her breath caught when she heard the emotion ringing in his compelling voice. “If your spoiled, oversexed mother was too weak to teach you to control yourself, and your father was too self-involved to bother, then someone has to do it. When you strutted into this restaurant today like you owned the place, you made that
someone
me
.

“Now unfasten your pants and lower them, then lean against my desk,” he continued, his matter-of-fact manner only amplifying the surreal sensation fogging her brain.
He couldn’t be serious.
He wanted to spank her? Lucien Sauvage? “You can go if you choose,” he said, not unkindly, when he noticed that she didn’t move and continued to stare at him in disbelief. “We won’t do this thing unless you are in full agreement.”

“
That’s
blackmail,” she whispered.

“No. You are not my employee, Elise. I have never offered you a job. I have never offered you anything but this relationship, which will be carried out by my rules, and mine alone. You pushed yourself in here. This isn’t about blackmail or harassment. This is about what you need; what I think you were asking for marching in here uninvited today. If you plan to live here in Chicago, if you are to be in my life, I will not allow you to manipulate and defy me. You will receive the discipline you require—and if I sense that you submit, there will be pleasure as well. If you can’t agree to that, then there’s the door.”

She didn’t move. She couldn’t.

He nodded once, seeing that she’d made her decision. Elise realized dazedly that she had, indeed, decided. He turned and walked over to a large antique cabinet. He opened one of the doors and she glimpsed an expensive stereo. Suddenly, the sounds of Beethoven’s rich, penetrating fifth symphony filled the air. She stared at Lucien stupidly as he returned to her.

“Do as I told you,” he said, not unkindly.

She glanced once at the door and back at him. His face was hard, but she saw something in his eyes—not gentleness, necessarily, but compassion . . . understanding that this was not an easy thing he was asking of her, but that he asked it anyway.

“I hate you, Lucien Sauvage,” she said as she began to unfasten her pants, the hissing sound of her voice barely rising above the swell of the music.

He nodded once matter-of-factly. “But you will still do as I say.”

She jerked down her pants as a defiant reply.

“Lean over the desk,” he said.

Her held breath burned in her lungs and blistered her throat as she did what he said. She’d never been punished before. She’d never voluntarily given up control to a man. This was an entirely new experience. She couldn’t believe she was allowing it to happen. What did it mean, that she was? Anger, bewilderment, and excitement twined in her and tightened around her lungs. Her breath hitched when Lucien stepped closer.

Something hot and forbidden surged through her pussy. She felt his hand at her hip. His long fingers slipped beneath the waistband of her underwear. A tendril of excitement flickered through her clit.

“Do you have to?” she asked shakily as she felt him lower her panties.

“Always,” was his reply. He released the skimpy underwear and it bunched next to her pants at her knees. She squeezed her eyes tight when she felt him lift her chef’s smock, fully baring her to his gaze. Mortification swept through her. Lucien would never believe it if she told him—so she didn’t say a word—but she wasn’t used to such intense intimacy.

She trembled with excitement when Lucien’s hand brushed against the sensitive skin of her right buttock. He cupped the flesh and squeezed. Liquid heat rushed through her pussy, the strength of her response confusing her. It was as if her body had a mind of its own. Her brain certainly hadn’t given her permission to find his possessive touch on her ass so arousing.

“You’re lovely. I will find it exciting to punish you. Very,” he murmured. “You may find it arousing as well, but it will also sting. That’s the consequence of your behavior. Even though I will enjoy this, today it will only be a punishment. As I mentioned, we will take things at my pace.”

She turned her chin. He saw her bewildered expression.

“We won’t be having sex after I finish,” he explained patiently. “That will come another time.”

She listened to all of this in anxious amazement.

“Elise?” he prompted. “Am I making myself clear?