Lucas suddenly withdrew from the kiss and studied her, his gaze calculating as if trying to make some sort of decision.
“What?” Liliah asked artlessly, tilting her head slightly with curiosity.
Lucas glanced to the door, then back, resolve hardening in his expression. “Are you willing?” He slowly traced his hand from her shoulder down to her breast, covering her curves seductively, then tracing his touch down her belly to the heated part between her legs. The fire in his expression made her burn.
“Yes.”
“Thank God,” he swore, then kissed her deeply but quickly and lifted her in his arms. In short order she was reclining on the sofa that she had so often sat upon while reading, with his delicious weight pressing into her. The memories of their one night came back in full force and Liliah arched her back, needing to feel more.
Lucas’s movements were hurried, desperate and needy as he slipped his hands up her skirt and navigated her underthings. She aided by tugging at his breeches, and with a low oath, he assisted her in removing all barriers. With one hot stroke, he buried himself within her, kissing her deeply with each movement. Liliah’s body shook with the violent need of it, arching her back, her hips, allowing her hands their hungry need to roam his person as he savagely loved her.
It was everything she remembered but so much more. Her senses were just as heightened, yet there was this powerful expectation that built her body’s need into a fever as she settled her hands on his lower back and pressed him deeper within, feeling the edge of her release coming closer—knowing its power and expecting its pleasure. Luc’s body shook with raw power, adding to her already aroused senses and he silenced her cries of pleasure with his kiss, devouring her passion as he released his own with a muffled groan.
Liliah’s body pulsed, the afterglow almost as poignant as the climax as she forced time to slow down so that she could memorize every nuance. The weight of Luc as he completed her with his own body was erotic in its own right, but add to it the familiar scent of him, the warmth of his body melting through her clothes, the warm expression in his eyes as he met her surely awed gaze.
His blue eyes were clear, the cynical and hard edge absent. His shoulders were rounded with sheathed muscle as he supported his position, and his body still sang within hers. With a slight wince of displeasure, he slowly withdrew himself and sat upright, his hair disheveled just enough to hint at scandal. Liliah yearned to run her fingers through its thick texture, yet she understood the necessity in remaining undiscovered.
Not for her sake.
But for his.
Her heart ached with the knowledge that while these moments were precious, they were fleeting and of no lasting consequence. She pushed such melancholy thoughts to the back of her mind and chose to bask in the glow of being thoroughly loved—at least physically. For while it was certainly the act of the marriage bed, it was only an act of passion for them—and could never be more.
Her heart threatened to fracture at the thought, yet she breathed deep and slowly sat up, righting herself as much as she was able.
While she collected herself, she kept her gaze away from Luc, lest he suspect her deeper feelings that she had been warned against. She almost missed the low oath he muttered. Startled by the shift in emotional atmosphere, she glanced at him, immediately noting displeasure on his face.
Unexpectedly, her heart pounded with suspicion that it was some sort of lack on her part. Insecurity crept into her heart. “What is the matter?” she asked hesitantly.
His tousled hair became more disheveled as he ran a hand through its dark texture before wiping down his face in a regretful gesture.
Liliah’s heart pounded harder.
“I—that is—” Luc began, then froze as a knock sounded at the door.
Liliah’s gaze shot to the locked door, her heart pounding a new rhythm born of fear. “Yes?” she asked, then belatedly wondered if she should have kept her peace.
“Oh, my lady!” Sarah’s relieved tone had Liliah rising up on her feet, casting a wary and frantic glance to Lucas.
Lucas held a finger to his lips, then glanced about the room. He silently strode to a row of low bookcases and slipped behind them in a crouch.
Liliah took measured steps to the door, adjusting her hair and dress as she walked, formulating a believable lie.
Or so she hoped.
She paused before the lock, then a smile tipped her lips. Tugging the door, she shook it meaningfully, then tried again. “Oh my, it seems to be locked, Sarah. Wait just a moment.” She unlatched the lock in an exaggerated motion, then opened the door to her maid.
“My lady!” Sarah sighed in relief, then tilted her head in bewilderment.
“I confess I fell asleep. The door must have locked when I shut it. Have you been looking for me for very long?” Liliah asked, yawning for good measure.
“Oh, my lady! Your father had a guest who has refused to leave. Just now he has sent the staff after you, but I’ll report directly that you’re quite well,” Sarah added, curtseying.
“Thank you, I assure you, I’m quite well.” Liliah gave a small smile while her mind worked on a plan to get Lucas out of the house unnoticed.
“Very good, my lady. Your father wished me to remind you of the ball tonight, he intends to leave slightly early.”
“I shall be ready,” Liliah replied, hoping that Sarah would be on her way quickly. She’d have requested it if she didn’t think it would raise suspicion, but she elected to simply wait.
