"I'll meet you where you are. Always."
"You are making a lot of promises that you might not be able to keep."
"And you keep directing the conversation towards our son, but not towards what I'd really like to know about. US."
"It was a one night stand, Lucian."
"Things have changed. I want both of you in my life, Kimber. What do I need to do to convince you that I'm here to stay."
"Frankly? Time. You need to give me time to get to know you and see all your sides, good ones and bad ones."
"Then that's what you'll get. You might get tired of me after a while."
"I look forward to it."
I pull her closer into my arms and give her a soft kiss on the lips. This is all I need. A chance for us to build a future together. I thought she'd fight me harder, but I think she wants this as much as I do. Now, to make the rest of our lives a dream come true.
Chapter 11
The Wedding Day
Kimber
The heavy oak door of the suite clicks shut behind us, the sound echoing in the opulent silence. Lucian’s arm is a steelband around my waist, and his other hand is tangled in the hair at the nape of my neck, holding me close.
The scent of him—clean, spicy, and undeniably male—fills my senses, making my head swim. We haven't even taken in the room yet, the sprawling view of the city lights at night, the plush cream-colored carpet, the enormous king-sized bed draped in what looks like a cloud of white silk. All I can see, all I can feel, is him.
"Finally," he growls against my lips, the vibration of his voice shooting straight down my spine.
His kiss is bruising, hungry, a testament to the agonizingly long day of formalities and forced smiles. I kiss him back with just as much ferocity, my hands fisting in the lapels of his tuxedo jacket, pulling him impossibly closer. My teeth scrape his lower lip, and he groans, a low, primal sound that makes my pussy clench with need.
"Lucian," I breathe his name, a plea and a promise all at once. "I've been waiting all day for this.”
"What? For me to do this?" In a single, fluid motion, he sweeps me off my feet. I let out a surprised squeal, my arms looping around his neck as he lifts me effortlessly, one arm under my knees and the other supporting my back. I’m a bride in her white dress, being carried over the threshold by her new husband. It’s so cliché, so utterly perfect, that a laugh bubbles up from my chest.
He doesn't carry me far. With a few long strides, he's standing beside the bed, his dark eyes burning into mine. There’s a wicked, playful glint in them that makes my stomach flip.
"Hold on tight, Mrs. de Luca," he murmurs, using my new name for the first time.
Then he throws me. I land on the bed with a soft bounce, the layers of my dress and tulle petticoats puffing up around me likea cloud. The impact knocks the air from my lungs for a second, but it’s followed by a peal of pure, uninhibited laughter.
I prop myself up on my elbows, my hair already a mess around my shoulders, and watch him shrug off his jacket. His movements are economical, full of a barely leashed energy that is all for me. He’s on the bed in an instant, his knees bracketing my hips.
"You look so fucking beautiful like that," he says, his voice a low rumble. "All spread out and waiting for me."
His hands are on me then, large and warm, tracing the curve of my waist through the satin of my gown. But his touch doesn't linger. With a firm grip, he grips my hip and shoulder, and in one smooth, dominant move, he flips me over.
My face is pressed into the cool, silky duvet, my ass now raised in the air. The position is utterly submissive, completely exposed, and a fresh wave of arousal drenches my panties. I can feel the heat of his body hovering over me, the ghost of his breath on the back of my neck.
He doesn't say anything, just lets the anticipation build. I hear the rustle of fabric, and then I feel his hands on my dress, gathering the voluminous material and slowly, deliberately, pulling it up over my hips and back, until it’s bunched around my waist.
The cool air hits my exposed skin, and I shiver. I’m wearing a white lace garter belt, sheer silk stockings, and a pair of tiny, lacy panties that are already soaked through. I hear his sharp intake of breath.
"Jesus, Kimber," he chokes out. "You're trying to kill me.”
I smile into the bedding, wiggling my hips enticingly.
"Is it working?”
