Page 43 of All Mixed Up

The words were a sizzling taunt in my brain as he broke away and tugged me toward the bikes. Karma let me exact a little vengeance as he swung onto his saddle, groaning while attempting to adjust things at the crux of his thighs, before we were off to pedal up Rue Rembrandt.

Within a few minutes, we pedaled up to the wrought iron fences flanking a side entrance to Parc Monceau. Beyond the boundaries, the retreat beckoned with sun-dappled pathways, vast green lawns, and plentiful banks of blooming flowers. The park, which had once served as the private gardens for Phillippe d’Orléans, was brimming with natural glory. The Duc’s vision of borrowing many architectural icons for the park’s structures was still evident, making for an eclectic journey for park visitors—not that I could focus on much of it with Lucien leading the way. Even on a rented bicycle with rickety gears, he glided as if born to ride the thing, giving me a very fine view of his natural athleticism. And of course, a chance to appreciate it too.

A lot.

Oh, hell.

I was getting damp down there already.

Maybe even wet.

Note to self: Bicycle shorts are unforgiving when it comes to abject arousal.

Less than a hundred yards into the park, the man slammed on his brakes. Thank God I was paying attention, and was able to stop just as fast.

My reflexes weren’t so on point when it came to his next move.

In an effortless sweep of motion, he dismounted the bike and then laid it down. I was so preoccupied with how he made it all look like a ballet that I got off my own machine in a mess of gangly limbs and fumbling hands. Not that he cared. The next second, he had my hand wrapped in his vice grip and my body spun all the way around. I barely managed to stumble behind as he marched toward a copse of trees and bushes. With every step we took, the man’s passionate intent poured off of him in bigger waves.

Second note to self: When needing to get one’s hands on Lucien Paget, take him into the park through the Rembrandt gate.

He pushed back the branches as if they were thick bed drapes. Swung me around as if gracefully twirling me on a dance floor—though one glance at his face said a staid waltz and polite conversation were not at the forefront of his mind.

God, how I hoped I was right about that.

Viva le espoir. Hurray for the hope.

And every hot, consuming thing he did to explode it into life.

With his grip, digging and demanding.

With his kiss, brutal and devouring.

With his presence, enveloping and entrancing—and then erotic, unwavering and utterly eviscerating.

As he conquered me with his mouth, and got started on vanquishing me with his body.

A dark groan vibrated up my throat as we kept kissing, all but eating each other up. Lucien blended in his own version of the sound from the second he tore his hands beneath my jersey and swiftly discovered the thing had a flexible sports bra built in.

He grunted and swore, urgently battling to free me from the garment, but finally stepped back with obvious frustration. “Get it off,” he snarled, already pushing his shirt buttons free from their moorings. “The shorts as well. I need to see all of you. Now.”

If he thought a glimpse of his sculpted chest would help his cause in getting me naked, he was totally right. Yes, we were in the middle of a public park, shielded from the world by some awesomely cooperative tree branches, but he could’ve led me to the plaza in front of the Barrier Chartres and I wouldn’t have cared. Not right now. Seriously, not right now. Not with him.

Bizarrely, that realization helped me with an even bigger one.

For the first time in a very long time, I wasn’t afraid. Of anything.

I was…free.

Of all of it.

The stress about the money. The terror about Mom. The worries about where my next gig would come from, or whether there’d be gigs at all. It was all gone. I was so unhindered, I could’ve ridden through this park like a bike-bound Lady Godiva had the man asked.

Lucien made it all okay. All of me okay.

Just like he’d done from the beginning.

Just like he would again now.