Falling In (8 page)

Chapter 7

Just a Kiss

Scout's shoulders drooped as she wearily accepted her status for the next several days. Everything would be according to the wants and needs of Lucian Patras.

“Evelyn? Is something wrong?”

She sighed. “No. I just . . . I'm still in my uniform. My bag's still in my locker downstairs. I can't go shopping until I change.”

He stepped closer and a wicked gleam set into his dark eyes. “I find myself quite fond of your little maid's uniform.”

His finger reached out slowly and he gently caressed her cheek. Her breath filled her chest and held as his hand moved to her hair and removed a pin from her bun. It landed silently on the plush carpet. He removed another and then another, until her dark auburn hair was tumbling down her back.

Lucian sucked in a breath. “Evelyn, your hair . . . I had no idea it was so long.” His hands lifted the wavy curtain and spread it over her shoulders. “It's beautiful.”

His feet shifted and he stepped closer. He'd never been this close to her before. Her heart raced. She could see the shadow of hair beneath the tanned skin of his jaw, the fine fleshy line that outlined his full lips, the dark onyx flecks in his chestnut eyes. They were more deep ebony than black or brown.

His eyes appeared softer in that moment. Stunning. He had lashes so thick they were almost feminine. The dark crests gave his visage a pirate's sharpness as if his piercing eyes were lined with soot, making his penetrating gaze all the more menacing. His tanned skin was smooth. He really was quite striking.

His scent cocooned her, made her slightly light-headed. Scout's lips parted as his thumb gently traced the plump curve of her lower lip.

“I'm going to kiss you, Evelyn.”

Her pulse jumped as his head lowered. His palm sifted through her hair until he cupped the back of her skull. Chills skittered down her collar and underneath her clothing. A warm pinching sensation tickled her belly. It was like falling; frightening, but slightly more pleasant.

He pulled her into him. His breath coasted over her lips, warm. Barely making contact, his lips brushed over hers and her belly pulled tight. Scout's thighs suddenly felt oddly disconnected from her numb knees, and then his mouth was on hers.

Her eyes opened wide as his closed. She squeaked, as the kiss grew firm. His other hand trailed below her arm and around her back. He pulled her closer until her front was pressed into his, her breasts crushed against the hard muscle of his chest. Then his mouth opened.

Lucian's head tilted and the kiss became moist. She tensed as his tongue traced the seam of her slightly parted lips. He nuzzled her cheek and sealed his mouth over hers, his slowly opening and closing coaxingly.

His touch was gentle. Her arms hung lifelessly at her sides as his palm slid possessively low on her back. His teeth closed over her lower lip and her neck extended. Scout gasped and he took full advantage, plunging his warm tongue deep into her mouth.

Stepping forward, as if he intended to walk through her, his grip tightened. He tipped her head back and kissed the corner of her lips. The hand at her back massaged gently. His head tilted and his tongue was back at it again, licking deep into her mouth.

Suddenly, he tickled the roof of her mouth and her own tongue instinctively lifted, dueling with his. He groaned and chuckled.

“That's it, Evelyn, kiss me back,” his mouth whispered against hers.

The touch of their tongues was warm and soft. They caressed one another, his battling for control. The kiss was more enjoyable if she let him lead. She also figured out that when her eyes were closed it was easier to concentrate. She lowered her lashes and let him take command of the kiss.

Her body heated. Fire churned in her belly and her breath grew shallow and rushed. She had no illusions about her purpose here, but her body's reaction to him confused and surprised her all the same. Lucian Patras would use her for his own sexual satisfaction. She was perfectly aware of what that would entail. She'd been exposed to the act of sex at a very young age, seeing many adults perform such acts with no regard to privacy or onlooking eyes.

What she was unprepared for were the sensations flooding her blood. Scout never expected her skin to feel so hot, so hungry, her limbs to grow weightless and too heavy at the same time. She was incredibly aware of her hips and the space in between.

Lucian pulled back from her mouth and she found herself extending, chasing his touch. He chuckled arrogantly and she hated her need. His mouth worked over her jaw and down the slender column of her throat. He sucked on the flesh over her racing pulse. His tongue skittered to her ear and his breath tickled the hollow, sending chills up and down her spine.

“I cannot wait to get inside of you,” he whispered over her warming flesh.

His palm slid down to her butt and she froze. It wasn't the fact that he was touching her rear that had her tensing. It was the possessive way in which he held her. His hand had moved directly to the crease of her ass and his fingers clamped down on her private parts where no man had ever touched her intimately before.

It was too much. He was overwhelming her and she was thinking outside of her head, constantly forgetting what she had been considering from one second to the next, as her body struggled to feel. Scout lifted her palms to his chest and pushed, but he only pulled her closer.

His tongue plundered her mouth again as he took from her with such entitlement. Her hands curled into fists. No matter how much she was aware of what she was permitting herself to become, actually giving herself over to what it meant hurt her pride.

The unsettling thought lanced through the warmth churning in her body and chilled her warming blood. Scout turned her face away and broke the kiss.

Lucian waited, his breath beating over the low curve of her shoulder peeking past the collar of her uniform. She hated herself in that moment. Hated what she was surrendering herself to.

A few days, she told herself, a couple of weeks at best. She'd do this thing, and then the position could be passed along to the next pathetic charity case that stumbled into Lucian Patras's life.

He was a beautiful man. It wouldn't be difficult to give herself to him if she could just get off this moral cross. She was simply trading one title for another, and then she'd set aside all labels and live a normal life.

This had to be better than homeless vagrant. At least one led to some sign of improvement in the end. All of this was the cost of her financial independence.

Scout turned in his hold and his grip on her loosened.

“I need a moment. I . . . I'm sorry.”
Get a grip, Scout! She
turned away from him.

Stepping away, needing some space, she caught her breath. He was silent, but she could feel him watching her. Her mind painted him as a giant, crouching behind her in a shrinking room. When his hands pressed into her shoulders, she flinched.

“You need to get used to my touch, Evelyn. I can't have you flinching every time I touch you when we're out in public.”

Scout's arms wrapped around her waist protectively only to have his follow, the heat of his front scalding her spine. He held her wrists and slowly pulled her banded arms back. Entitlement. He was entitled to touch her. She was expected to surrender. His palm flattened on her torso and pressed until her back was flush against his front. Hands moved over her, caressing, feeling, mapping her every curve.

As his fingers tripped over the money belt fastened tightly under her gown and around her ribs he momentarily paused. She could sense him frowning curiously, but he moved on. His thumb grazed the underside of her breast and he continued on his exploration of her. Her breath hitched as he drew sensation after sensation from her untried body. His hands slid up her front until he was cupping her, holding her to him in a way no man had ever held her.

His thumbs traced over the protruding tips.

“Why, Evelyn . . .” he whispered, amusement laced in his voice. “You're not wearing a bra. Is this something I can expect on a regular basis?”

Her belly quivered and there seemed to be some fine thread connecting where he touched her and her lower body. He was like a puppeteer pulling her strings and commanding her body to do as he wished. He pinched her there, but it didn't hurt.

“Please . . .” Scout was confused and overwhelmed.

He squeezed. “Please, what?”

Her small hands covered his, still shaping her breast. “Please stop.”

He froze. A chill filled the air and a moment later he released her and stepped away.

She couldn't face him. “I—I'm sorry,” she stammered. “Next time will be better. You just took me off guard.”

“It's fine.” His words were terse and forced. They bit through her faltering courage and she shivered. “When you're ready, we'll go.”

Go? Did he still expect to go shopping? She sighed. “I need to get my bag.”

“I'll have it brought up.”

“It's in my locker.”

Scout had no doubt he could somehow manage to retrieve her things regardless of some measly locked metal box that held them, but she didn't want someone else handling her stuff. Everything she owned was in that locker.

She explained, “I'd rather get it myself.”

“Fine.” His fast concession surprised her.

Scout frowned. Maybe he wanted her to leave. She was about to ask if that was the case when he said, “I'll have Dugan bring the car around. Meet me out front in ten minutes. Do not be late.”

Ten minutes wasn't a whole lot of time to make it all the way to the basement, get to her locker, change, and make it back to the front of the hotel. She needed more time, but before she could ask for it, Lucian turned and held his phone to his ear, already summoning Dugan.

Chapter 8

Reflection

Without attracting much attention, Scout kept her head low and speed walked through the lobby of Patras. A man dressed in pristine Patras livery held the heavy glass door as she stepped out of the softly lit hotel and squinted at the sunny street. Cabs lined the curb as finely dressed guests alighted to the gold-fringed red runner at the bottom of the grand marble stairs. Brass luggage carts were stacked with designer cases and garment bags, and she never felt more like a sore thumb in her life.

Scout shifted her raggedy backpack over her shoulders and looked for Lucian. He wasn't out there. Stepping as far into the shadows and out of the way as possible, she searched.

A man with a neat brimmed hat and Patras blazer spoke in rapid French to a guest. Footmen traded keys with valets, and the line of vehicles moved on. A shiny black limousine took up a large portion of the shoulder as a chauffeur aptly stood and awaited his passengers.

The sun was drifting behind the high skyscrapers. A blustery wind slithered over the pathways, mingling in and out of people passing by, and she shivered, fisting her hands deep within the front pocket of her hooded sweatshirt. The denim of her jeans had long ago worn thin and didn't do much to shield against the gusty November chill.

The chauffeur twisted as the sleek black window of the limousine lowered half an inch. He listened then turned. His gaze landed on her and his bushy eyebrows jumped. His mouth remained tight beneath the handlebars of his mustache. Straightening his shoulders, he walked in her direction.

Her back stiffened. Lucian would be furious if she wasn't waiting for him when he got here. If this man was approaching to chase her away, he had an argument coming. She had every right to be here. She'd be interested to see what he had to say when he learned she was waiting for the owner of Patras, Lucian Patras himself.

Squaring her shoulders Scout opened her mouth, prepared to tell him she wasn't moving, when he surprised her by saying, “Ms. Keats?”

She fumbled. “Y-yes?”

“Mr. Patras is right this way. If you'll follow me?”

Her lip trembled as she got hold of her bearings and followed the chauffeur. He was quite an enormous man up close. Returning to his position beside the shiny black door of the limo, he opened it with a gentle click as she stepped nearer. The interior was low and dark. Scout bent to peek inside.

Lucian sat, a look of exasperation on his face, amber drink in his hand. He glanced at his watch dramatically and back at her and sighed. She quickly scurried into the car.

The soft leather seats cushioned her inelegant landing and she scooted in as the door closed with a quiet snick behind her. Blue lights accented small wooden compartments and a crystal decanter held securely on a small counter.

“Drink?”

The car pulled away from the curb and she lurched back in her seat, not used to being in cars. She looked at Lucian. “No, thank you. I don't drink.”

He raised an eyebrow, but said nothing more on the subject. They drove a few blocks in silence. Lucian's gaze raked over her, scrutinizing her attire. She tried not to fidget, but failed.

The clink of ice in his now empty glass drew her attention. “I can see we'll have our work cut out for us.”

Scout's spine stiffened. She didn't appreciate his comment. If he didn't want such an undertaking he should've asked someone else for their “company.” She sighed. This wasn't how she imagined this going. He'd done nothing he hadn't said he planned to do. It was her own wavering thoughts that were making her irritable and jumpy. She needed to jump into this thing with both feet or back out now.

“Lucian, I'm sorry about earlier. I've been up since three a.m. and I'm not at my best.”

He frowned. “If you were tired you should've told me. This could've waited.”

She had been tired, exhausted really, but since stepping into the limo her adrenaline kicked in. “I'm okay now. I must've gotten a second wind.”

He studied her face a moment then said, “I expect you to be at your best, Evelyn. If you require eight hours' sleep, take it. If you need ten, then make sure you get them.”

His words were bossy and rude, but there was also a bit of concern beneath his censure. Underneath all of the gruff and growl, she suspected there was a soft little puppy. No, not a puppy, more like a bear cub or baby lion. She hid her smile.

They arrived in a section of the city she had never visited before. “Is this still Folsom?”

“Yes, the upper west side.”

Scout looked out the tinted window as the lavish stores and boutiques rolled by. Shoppers patronized the ritzy strip in high heels and designer suits. Glancing down at her tattered clothing and worn through sneakers, she frowned.

The limousine pulled to a stop outside of a pristine store she couldn't read the name of. She swallowed as a lump formed in her stomach. Lucian placed his glass aside and flattened the front of his suit jacket. He'd forgone the casual air she'd grown used to seeing him in while in the comfort of his penthouse. Scout liked that Lucian better.

Dugan came around and opened the passenger door. She couldn't move. Well-dressed patrons bustled past her vantage with dogs dressed finer than her. Her breath was coming too fast and she was going to be sick.

“Evelyn? We're here.”

She looked at Lucian and he frowned. He leaned over her lap and said to Dugan, “Give us a minute.” He then pulled the door closed, submerging the heated car in silence.

“What's the matter, Evelyn?”

“When you said shopping for personal items I thought you meant we'd hit a drugstore or something.”

He pressed his lips together and, again, took visual inventory of her clothing. His fingers pinched a loose flap of her bag distastefully, rubbing together as if he touched something unsavory.

“You can't expect what you're wearing to be appropriate for the places we'll visit. You need clothes.”

“But you said the dinner wasn't until tomorrow.”

“That's right, we have a function tomorrow, but we still need to eat tonight. I have no problem with lunch or breakfast in the penthouse, but dining out is something I enjoy. What difference is there if we purchase some items tonight or tomorrow? Either way, you need an entirely new wardrobe.”

He was right, of course. Dressed the way she was, Scout was an embarrassment to a man like him. She looked out the window. But did they have to shop here? She'd be uncomfortable at a department store. This was beyond swank.

“Come on,” he said, nudging her leg and smiling. “Let me treat you. Clothing is armor. I prefer you feisty and I'm prepared to spend a great deal of money on you in order to have you that way. Let's go buy some courage.”

“People will stare at me.”

“You're beautiful, Evelyn. People will stare at you no matter what you wear.”

His words were sweet and warmed her heart, chasing away some of her trepidation, but not all of it. She sighed, resigned, and he tapped on the ceiling. The door opened and Dugan took her arm as she climbed onto the sidewalk.

Scout shivered and Lucian stepped out beside her. “Where's your coat?” he asked, again frowning.

“I don't have one.”

Her words seemed to render him momentarily speechless. He didn't comment, merely nodded and headed toward their first courage outlet.

A woman with hair the color of silken wheat greeted them. Her nails were long and painted white at the tips. She carefully ignored Scout's presence and purred up at Lucian. Scout's brow pinched and she decided not to like her right off the bat.

“Mr. Patras!” she cooed. “What a pleasure to have your company today. Is there something particular I can show you?”

Scout curled her lip at the woman's ridiculous advance. Lucian typed something into his phone. Without even looking at the woman he said, “Evelyn here requires an entirely new wardrobe. Do you think you can help her with that, Simone?”

The woman pouted. “Sonia.”

Lucian tucked his phone back in his pocket and looked at her in confusion. “Excuse me?”

“My name's Sonia, sir.”

“Of course.” He nodded a halfhearted apology and came to Scout's side. Slipping his hand around hers, lending some of his power and strength to her, he squeezed her fingers and smiled, sending her a sidelong glance.

Did he know the attendant's name? Was he fucking with her? Scout's lips twitched as she hid her smile. She squeezed his hand back. It was the first time he made her feel
with him
rather than against him or below him.

They were taken to the back of the store. Dugan arrived with Lucian's laptop and the ladies of the boutique brought him coffee and a table. He soon had himself his own little squatter office. He worked as one woman after another presented her with beautiful garments and accessories.

Lucian might have been otherwise occupied, but he always had a bead on what was happening around him. All Scout had to do was look in his direction and she'd find his gaze on her. He'd offer a slight nod or a shake of his head, and the women of the boutique would either discard or hang the garment he was rating. She found it amusing that a piece of clothing the women would rave about one moment could become a travesty of fashion in the next if it was something Lucian didn't favor.

Scout was soon bustled into a large room with mirrored walls and a button-upholstered round ottoman that reminded her of the inside of a genie bottle. Sonia began to tug at her clothes and she backed away. The attendant smiled, but some of the sincerity she recalled from when they were on the floor had left her eyes.

“You have to undress if you plan to try on clothes, honey.”

Scout scowled at her patronizing tone. “I've been undressing myself since I was a child. I'd like some privacy.”

The snobby attendant pursed her lips and shrugged. She backed out of the dressing room and left Scout there with a variety of outfits.

Quickly kicking off her shoes, she stuffed her oversized wool socks into them. Sliding out of her jeans, she folded them. Recalling the selection of undergarments Lucian had approved, Scout grimaced at her black cotton panties.

Her fingers reached under her sweatshirt and unlatched the clasp of her money belt and carefully stuffed it in the leg of her jeans. Taking a deep breath, she pulled her sweatshirt over her head and added it to the pile. As she turned to select her first outfit she gasped and jerked to a stop.

There, staring right back at her was her reflection. She hadn't seen herself so completely naked since . . . well, the last time she saw herself like this her body was very, very different.

Her lips parted and she blinked. Her hair was still down, forming a dark curtain of waves to her narrow hips. They barely swelled beneath her nipped-in waist. Her breasts were full, the tips darker than the rest of her skin, and pointed.

A half smile tickled her lips. She was quite pretty like this. She scrutinized her legs. They lacked any of the grace she noticed in the women's legs in the boutique. Scout recalled the beautiful Dr. Sheffield. Trying to mimic her grace, she awkwardly crossed one foot over the other. Her nose wrinkled. Her knees were knobby and juvenile. She stood on her toes. That helped.

When her gaze traveled back up to her face, she deflated. Her flesh-colored lips were lost on her plain skin. Her nose was small and unremarkable. Her eyes had always been her most unique quality. They were more silver than blue and had a way of getting lost against the whites of her eyes. Dark sapphire rims centered them and kept her appearance on the right side of that fine line between captivating and bizarre. Her lashes were long, but not as thick as Lucian's.

Her fingers gently nudged the loose skin beneath her eyes. It was deep purple and slightly bruised. She looked exhausted. Her cheeks were a little gaunt and she suddenly could see the slight resemblance between herself and Pearl. Scout averted her gaze, not wanting to look anymore. How had she gone from seeing someone beautiful moments ago, to hating the ugly person before her now?

There was a loud knock.

“Evelyn? What's taking so long?” Lucian's deep voice startled her.

She jumped. “J-Just a minute.”

Her hands quickly grabbed the first item she found and yanked it off the hanger. It was a dress, or something . . . She slipped it over her head and tugged the material around her behind. Perhaps it was a handkerchief. Yanking up the top, it covered her breasts, but she frowned when half of her curves were still hanging out.

Lucian knocked again. “Evelyn.”

She snapped her lips and scowled at the door. “I said I need a minute. It's too small.”

The door suddenly opened and she backed up. Her arms covered the ridiculously small scrap of fabric attempting to be clothing as Lucian stepped in. The mirrored walls created a hundred Lucians. Too many Lucians.

“What're you doing? You can't come in here!”

He tilted his head and rolled his eyes, telling her exactly how ludicrous he found her statement. “Let me see.”

She shook her head. “It doesn't fit. I look ridiculous.” Her protests only made him step into her personal space and force her arms to her side. He stilled.

“See . . .” she mumbled.

He stepped back, his eyes growing even darker. His gaze wandered over her like fingers. His Adam's apple bobbed under the stubble covering his throat as he swallowed. “You look . . .” His voice was a hoarse whisper. “I like it.”

“Lucian . . . It doesn't fit.”

“We'll take it. I want one in every color.”

Her palms slapped into her thighs. “It doesn't even make sense. There're no pockets to hold my stuff. It's November. I'll freeze.”

“Then you'll wear it in spring.”

“I won't be here in spring.”

His head jerked and his eyes narrowed. They stared at each other for a long moment, each seemingly challenging the other, but about what she wasn't sure.