Page 52 of Back to Claim His Crown
She caressed the scar, it was a tough cord of gnarled skin, breaking the perfection of his eyebrow. And then she kissed him. His arms lifted—urging her closer. Too quickly. She pulled free and laughed again, before teasing him every way she could think of. Letting instinct—imagination...sheer curiosity—guide her. She swept her hand over his chest—tracing the tattoo, then the scar from the skating accident, the one that had helped identify him to the world. The other scars, the stories she didn’t yet know. She wanted to know. Everything. And he lay back and let her—until he was shaking and incoherent and straining in that sweet torture.
‘Lucian,’ she breathed and bent to him again.
He roared his release and she swallowed the salty heat of him, stretching her hands wide to soothe his shudders, then licked her way back up his body.
‘Pleased with yourself?’ He held her above him.
She smiled. Then felt him move beneath her. Desire coloured her vision as he took his turn—his time—in teasing her. It was only moments until she couldn’t stand any more. She moved quickly to mount him, grinding in absolute, fierce abandonment. Riding him was such pleasure. She gazed into his eyes and moaned as his devilish fingers teased, giving her the slightest of nudges to topple her over the edge.
‘Zara.’ He pulled her down to rest on him. ‘Zara, Zara, Zara...’
His arms were so heavy, trapping her to him. This was what she’d wanted. What she’d ached for all this time. To be held by him—for them to be curled together in a tangle thatcouldn’tbe undone. With both ofthemundone. Able to rest at last.
Finally, he sank into sleep.
Hours later, Zara paced in the small lounge, silently biting her nails. Finally, she heard stirring from the room next door. A mutter. Then the thud of heavy footsteps.
‘What time is it?’ Lucian appeared in the doorway, naked save for a towel. He stared at the clock in horror. ‘I slept fornine hours! I—’
‘Clearly needed it.’ She held her ground, hiding her knotted fingers behind her back.
His jaw dropped. ‘What did you do? Surely Victor knocked?’
‘I sent him away.’
‘Youwhat?’ He looked astonished. Then irate.
‘You needed sleep. I don’t think you’ve slept for longer than a ninety-minute stretch in days.’
‘You had no right.’
‘No, but I did it anyway and I’m not sorry.’
‘I have people to meet. I have acountrythat I owe—’
‘You don’t need to feel guilty about what happened.’
‘I don’t need you to mother me,’ he snarled.
‘Don’t be reductive. I know perfectly well I’m not your mother. But Iamyour friend.’
‘No—’ he turned cold ‘—you’re not my friend.’
‘Suck it up, Lucian,’ she flung back, instantly wounded. ‘You’re not invincible. You look so much better for it.’
That threw him. ‘I look better?’
‘You’re not a machine, you know. You’re human. With basic needs.’
‘Needs?’he echoed and advanced on her.
She’d not seen him like this, his jaw stubbled, his hair slightly in tufts. Why had she ever thought those eyes of his were cold? But she backed up a pace because now he was looking feral.
‘I thought you didn’t want to be late for your meeting.’
‘I’m so bloody late it barely matters now. What does matter is that I remind you who’s in charge around here.’
She was suddenly as angry. With him for being angry. With herself for caring when it was so clear he didn’t want her to. And how could he be souselessin caring for himself while at the same time demanding he meet impossibly perfect standards?
