He released his grip of her hand and moved toward her. Lia’s back was to the wall, and she could feel the scratchiness of the paper against her bare skin.
His face came closer. She knew he was going to kiss her, and allowed it to happen. She was expecting him to be harsh, but the kiss was surprisingly tender against her closed lips.
“Open for me, cara mia,” he said and then gently forced her lips apart and slipped into the moist heat of her mouth so she could taste the whiskey against her tongue. His every move was slow, controlled, orchestrated. His mouth on her own, his hands coming up between them, sliding over the silk that covered her sensitive breasts, pausing on her erect nipples then rubbing the tips so softly, over and over, until her knees went weak, and moist heat pooled at the juncture of her thighs. She thrust her hips forward, feeling the hard length of his erection against her belly, rubbed against him, pushing at his hands, desperate to increase the pressure. His mouth pulled back slightly, and he laughed softly.
“You are so responsive, cara.”
Lia knew there was something not right. He seemed so detached, but she couldn’t bring her body under control. She wanted this too much, realized she had been wanting it for days. His hand slid down between their bodies, his palm cupping between her thighs, bunching the material of her dress until she felt the warmth of his hand against her bare skin. She went instantly still like a trapped animal, her heart beating inside her chest, echoing the throbbing between her thighs. His finger slipped beneath the lace of her panties, flexed against her, stroking her, and she writhed against him.
He held her still with the weight of his body against her, and she felt herself reaching for that release she knew he could give her. Almost there. But then he removed his hand and pushed himself away. She reached for him, and he took a step back. He appeared unmoved, staring down at her.
“No,” he said in a soft, silky voice. “I find that after all I don’t care to do this.”
Lia stared at him, her mind blank. “Why?” she asked eventually when her brain slowly started to function again.
“You want it, Lia, but you don’t want me. I’m not good enough. You can’t bring yourself to trust me, and I find that under those circumstances I would rather pass on what you are so generously offering.”
He picked up his jacket, stuffed his tie into his pocket, and left the room without looking back.
Lia waited until she heard the soft click of the door shutting behind him, then relaxed the rigid control on her body. Her legs buckled, and she slid to the floor. Hugging her knees to her chest, she tried to make sense of what had just happened. She had been so convinced she was in the right. Why did she now feel as though she had done something bad, as though she had hurt Luc? Why did she have an almost overwhelming urge to run after him and apologize?
Her body ached for him. Was this how her mother had felt for her father, knowing it was wrong, but wanting it desperately? Craving his touch even after he had deliberately humiliated her?
She didn’t want to feel like this for a man, but most of all for one who she knew virtually nothing about, or nothing good anyway. A man who had been willing to blackmail her to get what he wanted. A man who wouldn’t deny he had killed another, but refused to tell her the circumstances. She had to get out before she got in any deeper, before she got to the point where she would be willing to do anything just to keep him close for a while longer.
Somehow, she had to convince him to let her go.
…
Luc didn’t go back to the party; he didn’t trust himself to behave in a civilized manner right now. Instead, he headed out into the warm night. The anger had drained from him as soon as he’d walked away, leaving him cold, empty, and curiously guilty.
Shit, he was a bastard.
He’d overreacted, and his only excuse was that Lia had hurt him. The emotion had taken him by surprise and he had responded instinctively, wanting to hurt her back, maybe even needing to know he had the power to hurt her in return.
He slammed his fist into the wall and winced. Since Serena’s betrayal all those years ago, he hadn’t let anyone close enough to hurt him. This was Serena all over again, the past repeating itself. But even as the thought crossed his mind, he knew that in reality the two scenarios were wildly different. Serena had had no reason not to trust him. Lia had every reason.
His relationship with Lia was so fragile, built on lies and the betrayals of the past. How could she be expected to trust him? Trust had to be earned.
He wanted to go back to apologize, but he’d never been very good at apologies. And he had a feeling that right now Lia wouldn’t be pleased to see him.
No, for tonight, he would go drown his sorrows. Then he needed to do some serious thinking and maybe even work himself up to that apology.
Chapter Thirteen
“I want to talk to you.”
It was two days since she had been driven back alone in the limousine. Two days since she had seen Luc. Or heard from him. Now, she watched through narrowed eyes as he came into the room, threw his jacket onto the back of a chair, and sank down opposite her. He stretched his long legs out in front of him, sighed, and closed his eyes. He appeared tired, but at least he didn’t seem angry anymore.
She’d done a lot of thinking over the past two days, and she had come to realize something important. It had come to her slowly. At first, she had been way too hurt to think clearly, but then she had analyzed the whole scene. Luc was a proud man, and she had hurt him by what he obviously perceived as her lack of trust. He’d lashed out at her in the one way he knew her to be vulnerable, and that was what scared her most—that Luc should realize how much she wanted him and use that against her. Her father had done the same thing to her mother, using her love for him until her mother had turned into a shadow of the woman she should have been.
Right now, Luc only knew that she wanted him. If he ever got the notion that her feelings might go beyond mere lust, she was sure he would have no compunction about using that against her as well. The thought had brought her up short; she knew her feelings had started to deepen. That day with her brother. And then the night at the party, before it all went wrong, she had seen another Luc, one she could easily care for. It wasn’t going to happen, not if she could help it. Lia hardened herself.
“Did you hear me? I said I want to talk to you.”
He opened his eyes. “Really,” he said, running a hand through his thick dark hair. “I somehow got the impression you’d never want to talk to me again.”