Living in Shadow (Living In…) (12 page)

“I told you, I’m not talking about it. You wanted to know why I’m afraid, so that’s why. We’re here for a night, Luc. That’s all.”

He wanted to push, wanted to get to the bottom of all her puzzles. But then they weren’t here for heart-to-heart chats, were they? And besides, if he demanded answers from her, she could very well demand things from him in return, and there was no way in hell he was going to tell her about who he’d been. A child soldier, recruited to kill. She didn’t need that kind of shit in her head.

So all he said was, “What do you want then? Me to keep taking control?”

Her throat moved, pale and elegant. “I…do…but…”

“It requires trust, right?”

She bit her lip. “Yes.”

And she didn’t trust him. Jesus Christ, he wanted to kill the prick who’d done this to her. He moved his thumb along her jaw, stroking her, trying to give her reassurance. “I’ll make it good for you, I promise.”

“People have said that to me before. And they hurt me.”

Watching her carefully, he took her wrists and lifted them above her head, pressing them to the wall. She inhaled sharply, her body arching against his, the fabric of her blouse pulling tight across her breasts, outlining the hard tips of her nipples. “But you like this, don’t you?” he murmured. “This is what you want?”

A tremble swept through her. “I…”

“Some fears are reflexive,” he said, trying to remember what he’d been told by the people who’d helped him after he escaped the militia. “Just because you feel it now, doesn’t mean there’s anything to be afraid of.”

“I know that.”

“No, you don’t. You’re still responding to the reflex, Eleanor. See past it. There’s nothing here but what you want. What you desire.” He transferred his grip on her wrists to one hand and with the other gently circled his finger around one nipple, studying her reaction. “And you want this, I know you do. So don’t let fear stop you from taking it.”

Her body shook, her eyes pinned to his as if she thought he could save her. “I don’t…I don’t know how, Luc.”

He leaned in close so all she could see was him. “Sure you do, Professor. You met me tonight for a reason and it wasn’t to talk. You met me because you know I can give you what you want. Because you’re brave enough and strong enough to take it.” He pinched her nipple again, harder. “So take it. And don’t let fear hold you back.”

“How do you know all this?” she panted. “How can you see it?”

He stopped what he was doing, met her gaze. “Because that’s what I’ve been doing for the past eight years.”

Chapter Eight

He held her pinned against the wall, at his mercy, and yet for the first time since she’d met him, the bitter edge of fear wasn’t there.

She knew that look in his black eyes. It was the same one she told herself she didn’t see in her own. The look of someone who’d known trauma, known pain. Unsurprising, given his parents had been shot in front him. And part of her wanted to know more.

But the heat of his body pressed to hers and the maddening fingers toying with her nipple made it difficult to think. “Can you tell me about it?” She tried to make her voice sound level and probably failed miserably.

His finger rose to her mouth, tracing the line of her lower lip, leaving trails of fire. “You don’t want to talk about your shit, I don’t want to talk about mine. Fair enough?”

A small dart of something that felt like frustration pricked her. She ignored it. He was right. She could hardly ask him to share his details when she wasn’t going to share hers.

“Okay,” she said, attempting to keep the reluctance from her voice.

“Good.” He eased his caressing finger between her lips, into her mouth, and she tasted him, all salty and hot. “So what do you need from me? Is there something in particular you want? Somewhere you want to go?”

Eleanor shuddered, memories of the club Piers had taken her to flashing in her head. Not good memories. He’d told her to do whatever his friends asked her to do, not to shame him in front of them. So when they’d told her they didn’t use safe words, she’d accepted it, too naïve to insist. It had hurt, what they’d done to her. But the way Piers had watched and not intervened had hurt worst of all.

“No,” she said flatly. “Nowhere else. But I need to have a safe word and I need to know you’ll stop when I say it.”

Luc took away his hand. “I’ll stop.” The piercing look in his eyes told her he meant every word. “If you don’t want it, then I don’t want it.”

God, she wanted to believe him. Wanted to so much. “It’s…important. My Dom used to ignore me when I said it and I…” She stopped, not wanting the memories in her head.

“I hear you, Eleanor,” Luc said softly. “You can trust me.”

“I need to know I can. I
have
to be able to, otherwise this won’t work. This won’t—”

“You can,” he interrupted with so much certainty she was halfway convinced already. “In fact, I think you already do. You wouldn’t have let me give you two orgasms already if some part of you didn’t trust me.”

Something tight inside her eased. He was right, wasn’t he? She’d been so focused on her fear she hadn’t fully been aware that she would never have gone anywhere with him if she hadn’t trusted him on some level.

I would never hurt you,
he’d said that day on the grass, in the sun. Responding to the unspoken fear that lurked inside her. And subconsciously she must have believed him, otherwise she wouldn’t be standing here, would she?

But that was only your body. Your willing submission is another thing altogether.

It was. Completely. Yet she had to start somewhere, didn’t she? She wanted to be over this fear. And she didn’t know quite why, but she wanted to prove herself to Luc. Prove she was strong, that she wasn’t a coward. The way she had in the bar, spreading her thighs for him. Letting him touch her, responding to the challenge he’d set her…

You trusted him then. You can trust him now. And you want this. You want this for yourself.

Yes. She did want it. She was sick of denying her sexuality, of fighting it. And now that Luc knew, what was the point in pulling back?

“Okay,” she said, her voice firming. “My safe word is…
truth
.” Because that’s what she wanted tonight. To be true to herself.

“I like that. It’s appropriate. So, anything else? I don’t have any…uh…equipment if that’s what you want.”

Eleanor blinked.
Equipment.
Jesus, please don’t say she was going to have to explain everything to him. Then again… For some reason, that made the tension loosen even further. “Do you actually know anything about dominance and submission?”

Something in his eyes changed, the air around him charging with the intensity and focus he did so well. That charisma and authority that made her want to get down on her knees in front of him.

“No.” His fingers tightened around her wrists and she was suddenly very conscious of the way he was holding her. And how exciting it was. “But you’re a professor, aren’t you? I’m sure you can teach me.” His mouth curved. “I’m a quick learner.”

Her mouth dried. Maybe it should have made her anxious that he didn’t know anything about it. But it didn’t, perhaps because it made the power exchange more equal. And with Piers, the rules had already been written. With Luc, she could make some new ones.

“Then you don’t need equipment,” she said shakily. “I like…restraint, so you can use any kind of fabric for that.” She’d once quite liked blindfolds, until that night in the club with Piers’s friends. Now, the thought of being blinded filled her with dread. Baby steps, right?

“Restraint, I can do.” Luc released her and stepped away, the smile slowly ebbing from his face. Leaving that stern, hungry look in its place.

She shivered, helplessly.

“Turn around,” he ordered.

Eleanor did, her eyes closing as he gripped the back of her neck in that possessive, dominant hold.

“Come on. Down the hallway.” He exerted a bit of pressure, pushing her a little so that she turned and began to move down the darkened corridor.

And with every step she took, that fear began to abate. There was something about his hand on the back of her neck that called up old, forgotten feelings. Of safety. Of reassurance. Of belonging. Of love.

See past the fear…

So she did. She tried to hold on to those old feelings. Tried to keep them close as they walked down the hall to an open door and through it into a bare room with the curtains open, letting light from the city outside in, glinting off the water of the harbor below.

The room was bare of anything except the bed and a couple of bookshelves. No pictures on the walls. No art. And she stood there for a moment looking around, a strange sadness curling in her heart. Because there was nothing personal in this room. Nothing comforting. Nothing beautiful. It felt empty. Cold.

And then Luc’s fingers slid around her neck, the warmth of them undeniable, the pressure gentle. She felt the heat of him at her back as his hand turned so his palm pressed to her throat. How did he know she needed this touch? How did he understand?

She found herself relaxing back into him, all her muscles loose. Her body knew. Her body wanted this. And so she let herself trust a little bit more.

Luc bent his head, his breath against her ear. “Take off your clothes.”

It wasn’t a request but an order, her hands moving to obey before she’d even had time to process it. Taking off her blouse and bra, letting them fall. Her skirt, her panties. Stepping out of her shoes. Until she was naked and shivering, staring out into the city beyond the glass.

“I’m going to tie your hands behind your back,” he said, a quiet statement of fact, not a question. There was a small silence and she realized with a strange jolt that he was giving her room to say something. Her safe word maybe?

An odd emotion locked in her throat. He really was doing this for her, wasn’t he? A realization swept through her. That subconsciously she’d been expecting him to do this for himself, for his own gratification, not hers. And even out in the hallway, when he’d whispered in her ear it was all for her, she hadn’t believed him.

Well, maybe she needed to believe him now.

She didn’t say a word, merely put her hands behind her back in wordless acceptance of what he’d requested. He moved quietly and she wasn’t quite sure what he was doing until she felt him wrap something warm and soft around her wrists.

“My T-shirt,” he murmured. “In case you were wondering.”

Again she found herself shocked that he was telling her what he was doing. Answering the unspoken need she hadn’t even been aware of herself.

“I wasn’t,” she replied, not sure why she was denying it.

“Yes, you were.” He moved again, coming to stand in front of her. The light of the city was behind him; she couldn’t see much of his expression in the darkness of the room, only that he was looking at her. Studying her.

She looked down instinctively.

“I want to blindfold you,” he said. And began reaching for her blouse that lay on the floor.

“Truth.” The word was out before she’d had time to consider it. Instinctive and absolute, as fear bit deep.

He stilled, leaving the blouse on the floor, and slowly straightened. She could feel his gaze roaming over her, looking at her. But it didn’t feel threatening the way Piers’s sometimes had, as though he was looking for weaknesses to exploit. This felt as if he was studying her reactions for clues on how to proceed.

“No blindfold then.” The words were absolute. “This way I’ll get to look into your eyes when you come.”

Relief flooded through her, so intense she couldn’t speak for a moment. He was making this okay. He really was. Perhaps she could trust him with this after all.

His fingers caught her beneath the chin, tilting her head back so she met his gaze again. “I need this to be what you want, understand?”

She gave a jerky nod. She liked that rule. She wanted to keep it.

“Good.” He stepped close, curling his arm around her waist, pulling her hard against his body. Running one hand down her front, a long caress that traced the curve of her breast before dropping to her hip, her stomach, he kept his gaze on hers the whole time. “Have you fantasized about me, Professor? In your office? Alone in your bed?”

His touch made her ache, made her shiver. She couldn’t move and the soft fabric around her wrists gave her the most delicious feeling of helplessness. Oh fuck, she’d missed this. Missed this so much. “No,” she said, because she wanted more and to teach him to push her a little bit.

He seemed to get the message. “No?” His hand settled on her butt, squeezing hard. She gasped, arching away from him, and he took the opportunity to shift his leg so one muscular thigh pressed between her legs. “I think you’re a liar, Professor. I think you’ve fantasized about me quite a bit. Tell me now, otherwise you don’t get to come.”

Jesus, he was right about being a fast learner. Already she was wet, responding to the command in his voice like she’d been doing so all her life. “Okay, so yes,” she said breathlessly, “I have.”

He squeezed her butt again, fingers digging into her flesh, not too hard, but enough to give her a slight edge of pain. Somewhere a memory lurked, threatening to drag her down, but she pushed it away, concentrating on what was happening now. And perhaps he could sense it because he shifted his thigh again, pressing tantalizingly against her clit, sending little shock waves through her. “Tell me,” he murmured, bending his head. “Tell me your dirty fantasies, Professor. Right now or you can’t have my cock. And I know how badly you want it.”

She took a shuddering breath, responding to the command in his tone. “I…I fantasized once about giving you a blowjob. In my office.”

“A blowjob? How refined. Tell it like it is, Eleanor. The dirty words, I want to hear you say them.”

The way his thigh was pressing against her let her know exactly what those words would do to him too. He was already hard. And when she looked into his face, she could see the hunger in his eyes. He liked it too. Which was important because as much as she liked this, she wanted him to get off on it as well.