Page 48 of All Mixed Up

As he glanced up, emergency man was gone. In his place was my lover Lucien all over again. Fresh heat ignited cobalt fire in his eyes. New intention—at least that’s what it looked like—defined every formidable angle of his face.

“Done,” he said simply—making me wish the whole mind-reading thing went both ways. It really was unfair. I’d have to have a talk with karma about that.

“Done…what?” I asked.

“Private messages to Yvette and Milo.” He smirked a little wider. “Neither of us is working this afternoon or tonight.” He blinked his eyes, all mock innocence. “I need you.”

I popped my gaze wider. Attempted a smile, despite feeling like a hunk of fresh bread about to be cleaved by D’Artganan’s…errrmmm…sword. “You need me for…what?”

As he stabbed his arms back into his shirt, coiling his muscles in a million alluring new ways, he stared liked I’d asked if the raindrops on our faces were real. “To continue our private training, of course.”

“Training at what?” Incredulity crept into it, my only way to stay serious here.

His eyebrows knit. “Does that matter?”

I huffed. But then giggled. I didn’t know whether to punch or kiss him. “Milo Proust really bought that?”

“Of course not. But Liev has been wanting a crack at the headliner position when you leave, so I instructed Milo to audition him tonight.”

“And Yvette?”

“Oh, she responded right away.” He cracked a mischievous grin. “Said she already cleared the afternoon. That she had a feeling.”

Finally, I surrendered to my own tiny smirk. “Lucien?”

“Hmmm, ma reve?”

“Give Yvette a big fucking raise.”

14 Days and Counting

“You know, Monsieur Paget…you could easily convert me.”

“Convert?”

Lucien hitched up on one elbow in the gazillion thread-count sheets of his master bedroom centerpiece. Seriously, I think this bed had belonged to Phillippe d’Orléans too. “Je ne comprende pas, petite,” he murmured, wearing a look of total bewilderment.

I didn’t answer him right away. It was too easy to revel in the pillows that felt like clouds and bask in the resplendence that was him. In the gray light of late morning, he was still stubbly, tousled, lazy—and naked.

Ohhhh, so gloriously naked.

In short, the way I wanted to freeze him forever.

The way I’d have him for only an hour more. Two if I was lucky.

A reality I didn’t have to confront yet.

Later, damn it. Deal with the pain later.

After the comfort sank in, I refocused on my goofy teasing. “To the whole corporate employment thing,” I clarified while rubbing a thumb across his breathtakingly scruffy chin. “I mean, if all training programs are like yours, what have I been missing out on?”

He chuckled while I pulled him down, but expanded the mirth to a growl when our mouths met again. The rough sound vibrated into my mouth as he took me with long, languorous seduction. I was soon returning the favor with high sighs and throaty mewls.

We pulled apart, but not very far. His gaze turned the shade of charcoal as he rasped, “No conversion for you. No other trainer for you.”

I let him tinge the words with solemnity. Since we’d arrived at his penthouse yesterday afternoon, we’d kept things humorous and horny—especially after anointing every room of the three levels with sex in a matching number of positions. We’d finally eaten our “picnic” on his living room floor, sprawled naked in front of the plate glass sliders, enjoying the light show of the storm over the city and sharing a bottle of Bordeaux. Around midnight, we’d fallen asleep in each other’s arms, waking as the dawn had brought a rain as intense as our passion.

It had been one of the best nights of my life.