When she reemerged from the bathroom, he’d turned on the stair lights, turned off the others, and sat on the sofa, waiting.
“I like you, Abby.”
She stopped.
“I am trying to say that I like you too much.”
She nodded but nothing else. He wasn’t sure what he’d expected.
“You have everything you need?”
“Yes. Thank you.” She watched him for a long moment, those eyes seeing right through him, filled with something close to pity. Or maybe it was regret. “Good night, Luc.”
“Good night, Abby.”
“Thank you for helping me. For saving me, I mean.”
He started to shake his head to deny and then stopped. “I would do it again.”And again. And again.
With a last nod, she turned and disappeared up the stairs, leaving him alone with Le Dog’s quiet snoring and the suffocatingly cozy crackle of the fire.
He couldn’t sleep, of course. Not twisted up and turned on like this, hot and aching like a teenager, consumed with a teenager’s guilt. Knowing she was ready and willing, right up those steps.
But herback.
Right. He concentrated on the memory of her back, the shocking, red lines printed deep, the fresh ones still too puffy to make out the patterns. The way the burns went to the edges of those perfectly curved shoulders, the way her breasts, braless, hung heavy against the fabric of his shirt. He’d seen her nipples stiffen. Her mouth slightly open, her eyes pinned on him… He could smell her, still, could almost taste her and—Merde, he couldn’t stop thoughts of her body from haunting his brain. Didn’t want to stop.
He reached down and clasped himself. He pressed hard at first, in hopes of abating the pressure, but it only served to chafe and stir things up. What would she feel like down there, between her legs? She’d be tight, wouldn’t she? Tighter than anything he’d felt around him, he’d bet. And pink, like those lips. The same color and probably plush in the same way, ripe and wet and…
He was breathing hard now, with his hand on his cock, shamelessly working up and down over his pants, until the fabric was too much in the way. He worked it down to midthigh, exhaling hard at the feel of cool air on his hot, hot skin.
And then, taking a tight hold of himself with his left hand, he worked it up and down, added a twist at the top, imagining that twist like the hot glove of her sex, only she’d be tighter. Suppressing a moan, he turned slightly to the side, wanting to see his hand in the firelight and hoping it would look like hers. He was closer to coming than he’d have thought possible after just a few strokes. So close that, when his eyes landed on her silhouette on the steps, he almost kept going. Almost.
But the figure let out a shocked, ladylike gasp, and instead of finishing, he pulled the blanket back over himself, stilled, breathing hard, and waited.
19
“Abby?” Luc sounded strangled.
Abby swallowed, tried to reply, and then shook her head.
“What are…” He sounded tortured and a bit shocked. “What do you need?”
He shifted, the movement nothing like that frantic self-flagellation she’d been mesmerized by for those few seconds before he’d seen her.
Need? Goodness, what didn’t she need right now? She needed lessons, firstly, on how to navigate all the newness and these frighteningly raw sensations. How could she have known that the sight of a man doing things to himself would shake her so thoroughly?
She opened her mouth again and tried to speak, only her voice was gone. Broken apart, dried up, and splintered into hot shards embedded in her throat. In fact, there was nothing left in the bright, hollow upper half of her body, only a shell of craving.Thirstbeyond anything she’d ever known.
Her bottom half, though, was different. Everything below her stomach was warm and full, weighted down by that same hunger—only there, it was swollen and plush, hefty with her desire. And she was wet. Absolutely soaking through the trousers she wore, making them uncomfortably damp against her skin.
“You. I need you, Luc.”
He sucked in a harsh breath but didn’t say anything.
She moved slowly, almost despite herself, toward the sofa, her eyes glued to that man. She sank to the sofa beside him, close enough to smell him.
“You were supposed to stay upstairs.” The words were like bright slaps, lighting her up in places she’d never fully explored.
