Living in Shadow (Living In…) (14 page)

“I…I don’t know if I have the time,” she forced out, looking at her watch so she didn’t have to look at him. “I have a lecture—”

“You can spare me five minutes.”

No. No, she couldn’t spare him anything. “I—”

He reached past her and she froze, a wave of heat washing over her. Yet he didn’t touch her and when he pulled back he was holding her latte and James’s cappuccino. “Here,” he said, handing the coffees to her. “I’ll be there in a minute.”

And she found herself turning and walking away, off down the corridor toward her office in a kind of daze, her heart racing, anticipation coiling tightly inside her.

Eleanor stopped in the middle of the corridor, still holding the coffees. What the hell was she doing? He was
so
not doing this to her at work. Just because she’d allowed him control over her body for one freaking night, did not mean he could waltz in and start doing the same thing outside the bedroom. That kind of behavior could jeopardize her entire career.

She turned, only to see his tall figure striding down the corridor toward her, the look on his face intent. Making the sub inside her tremble with longing.

“Lucien,” she began forcefully, fighting down the feeling, determined to make a stand.

But he didn’t let her continue. “Into your office,” he ordered. “This’ll only be five minutes.”

And much to her extreme irritation, she found herself responding instinctively to the command in his tone. Opening up her office door without a word and going inside.

She headed straight for her desk, needing the barrier and the feeling of authority it gave her to stand behind it.

Luc followed her in, kicking the door shut with a decisive click.

Eleanor put the coffees down, her pulse loud in her head. She folded her arms, stiffened her spine. “Don’t shut the door, please.”

He ignored her, coming to stand right in front of her desk. Staring at her in that way that made her want to look down.

But she wasn’t going to. She was at fucking work. And he was way out of line. “How dare you pull that Dom shit here?” she said, injecting as much ice as she could into her voice. “Just because we had one night where—”

“You left,” he interrupted flatly, “without even a fucking goodbye.”

She took a steadying breath. Okay, so he was angry. And yeah, he probably had a right to it. But she could own that, she wasn’t going to deny it. “Yes I did. And I’m sorry. But we had one night, Luc. That’s all. That’s what we decided between us. So don’t you come in here, where I goddamn work, telling me what to do and acting like you own me. That stays in the bedroom.”

His gaze bored into her, hot and black as liquid tar. “What if I want more?”

“What?”

“What if I want more than one night? What if that’s not enough?”

Eleanor hugged her arms tight to her chest, trying to stop her heart from racing even faster than it was doing so already. Trying to stop the strange longing that kept twisting inside her. “There is no more. One night is all there is.”

“Oh, I see. I help you get over your submission problems, give you a couple of great orgasms, and then you fuck off without even a thank-you?”

She blinked, prickles of shame washing over her. Was that how he saw it? Her selfishly taking what he had to offer?

Well, it’s not like you stuck around to explain, was it?

“It…it wasn’t like that,” she said, knowing how lame it sounded. “I thought it would be easier on us both if I left.”

“Yeah well, it wasn’t easier,” he replied harshly. “You took what you wanted from me and then left like you didn’t give a damn.”

She could feel the weight of his anger pressing down on her, the force of his gaze making her want to drop to her knees.

And beg for punishment.

“It was one night.” If she kept saying it enough times, perhaps that would convince her stupid body and maybe her head too. “That’s all.”

Luc put his hands on her desk and leaned forward, getting even closer. “And that’s what you want?” he demanded. “That’s
all
you want?”

She swallowed. “Yes.”
Liar.

His gaze flickered over her face, studying her in that focused, intense way he had. Then after a moment, he pushed himself away and started coming around the desk. Toward her.

Her heart hammered in her chest, her breathing getting short.

She felt suddenly and desperately exposed.

“Truth,” she said, the word coming out harsh. “Truth, Luc.”

He stopped. Because he had to. Because he’d promised her that night he would.

But he didn’t want to.

She was standing behind her desk like she was hiding behind a wall, her tightly folded arms another barrier. Her face was as pale as the white-silk blouse she wore and he could see the fear in her eyes.

And every instinct he had was telling him to push, break down those walls. Yet she’d said her safe word and since he’d been the one who’d started the Dom stuff back there in the coffee queue, he couldn’t say it didn’t apply now.

He gripped the strap of his backpack, suppressing the urge that told him he needed to get close to her, use their chemistry to strip that armor from her, get her to admit to what he knew was there even though she tried to hide it.

That one night wasn’t enough for her either.

“Nice excuse,” he said into the deafening silence. “Hiding behind your safe word.”

Her mouth became a hard line. “I’m not hiding behind it. I would have thought after Friday night you’d understand how important it is for me to know you’ll stop when I say it.”

“And I did and I have. But that doesn’t change the fact that we’re not in the bedroom now and you’re not in any danger. You don’t want me to get close to you, in case you—”

“In case I what?” Her chin lifted, her jaw tight. “Accidentally fall to my knees and beg to suck your cock again?”

“Girls who interrupt don’t get cock, Professor. So if you’re doing that to prove a point, I suggest you stop it right now.”

Her chest rose sharply, pink staining her cheekbones.

Okay, so he was pushing a line by acting the Dom here. But she was protecting herself again, withdrawing into herself like an anemone, and he didn’t know how else to get through to her.

And he fucking wanted to get through to her.

He’d been pissed to wake up and find her gone that morning, but he’d tried to put it from his mind as he’d got on with his day. Not that his day consisted of much beyond going for a run and organizing his references for one of his international law papers, but even so.

He couldn’t stop thinking about it. About her. About what they’d done. About what she’d given him and what she’d taught him about himself.

Because he’d liked being in charge of her. Dominating her. It felt good to be able to indulge the part of him that had been the soldier and make it about pleasure instead of pain. Affirm life instead of bringing death. It made him feel almost as if there was hope for him after all. That he could come back from the shadows that had fallen over his life.

He’d even sat down on Sunday to do some research into the whole BDSM lifestyle, thinking that maybe he could find one of those clubs and go along. Find another woman who might like to give him what Eleanor had given him.

Yet as he’d sat there in front of his PC, scrolling through the images of bound and gagged subs, and Doms with floggers and whips, he knew he wouldn’t be going and finding another woman anytime soon.

It had to be Eleanor. No one else made him feel like she did, as if he was alive and not ice all the way through. Shit, by giving him a piece of her trust, she even made him feel worthy.

“You’re not my Dom, Luc,” she said flatly. “So how about you stop posturing.”

He ignored her. He wasn’t the one doing the posturing. “You want it too, though,” he said softly, staring at her. Daring her. “Don’t tell me you didn’t want to obey me in the café. Don’t tell me you don’t want to get on your knees right now.”

Her whole body was stiff with tension and he could almost see her determination to hold his gaze, to mask her emotions. To keep him out.

“What do you want from me, Luc? What do you hope to achieve from this?”

He couldn’t touch her. He’d respect that safe word. But it didn’t mean he didn’t have any other options. He already knew she liked it when he talked dirty to her, for a start. “I’m trying to get you to acknowledge what you want, Eleanor. The fact is, whether you admit it or not, you like me being in control. You like me telling you what to do, even here, even in your fucking office.”

“I don’t—”

“Are you wet for me, Professor?” he interrupted, cutting her off. “Are you standing there telling me you don’t want another night with me, with your panties all wet and your nipples hard?”

Her eyes had darkened, her breathing short and fast. “Stop. Stop saying those things.”

“I’ll stop saying them when you stop denying what you want. When you stop letting your fucking fear do your thinking for you.”

She looked sharply away, down at her desk, dropping her arms and beginning to fuss with the papers on her desk. “You have no idea what you’re talking about.” A bright thread of anger ran through her voice. “You think one night cures everything? That your penis is some kind of magical fucking bullet? Jesus, what am I saying?” She picked up a piece of paper, balled it up in her hands and threw it forcefully into the wastebasket near her desk. “Of course you bloody do.”

He stared at her. At the lines of pain around her mouth. At the tight cast of her delicate jaw. She’d told him she’d had a bad experience as a sub, but he still didn’t have any details, apart from her Dom not respecting her safe word. And there was clearly more to it than that.

“This is about your husband, isn’t it?” he asked, testing.

Her hands paused in their shuffle through the papers, but only for a second. “Let it go, Luc. And I’m asking nicely.”

“No,” he said flatly, letting the hard edge of the soldier show in his voice. “You don’t get to give me orders, Professor. I’m the one who asks nicely. And I’m the one who deals out the punishment if you don’t obey.”

She kept her head down, balling up another piece of paper in her hands. “I don’t want to talk about it. Don’t make me say the word again.”

“What?
Truth
? Strange fucking safe word for a woman who’s lying to herself.”

Eleanor dropped the paper, putting her hands flat on the desk with a slap. “
Stop
it. Just stop. You know nothing about it, so how about you shut the fuck up?”

What the hell are you doing? You’re hurting her.

Guilt twisted inside him. Pain was the last thing he wanted to cause her and yet he couldn’t forget the woman she’d been in his apartment on Friday night. Kneeling at his feet with her wrists tied. Letting herself go. He’d seen how much she’d liked that and it was shitty that she was holding herself back now.

In the militia, he’d seen boys who’d been pushed too far. Pushed so hard they broke. And shit, he’d nearly been one of them. But he didn’t think Eleanor May would break. Behind her delicate front he sensed a strength that ran deep. A strength that perhaps she wasn’t even aware of herself.

“You’re wrong,” he said quietly. “I know what it’s like to be hurt. And I know what it’s like to be afraid. You’re not the only one.”

Her head came up finally, sharp gray gaze meeting his. “What? Tell me.”

Like he’d ever fucking tell her. Like he’d ever want to lay that kind of weight on her when he could barely carry it himself.

Pushing himself away from the desk, he straightened. “If you want to know, come by my apartment tonight and perhaps I’ll tell you.”

She began to shake her head, but he wasn’t having any of that, so he just stared at her. Letting her see the soldier. The commander. “Or perhaps not. Perhaps I’ll tie you to my bed. Spread your legs. Eat your pussy until you beg me to bury my cock so deep in your cunt that you’ll be screaming for mercy instead.”

Her mouth thinned into a line and her gaze dropped. She didn’t say anything.

He didn’t know if he’d given her enough to change her mind. He hoped he had.

Hoped he wasn’t doing this purely for his own selfish reasons because saying those things to her had got him hard.

But no, he wasn’t doing this only for himself.

He was going to break through those walls of hers and get rid of her fear completely. She’d given him the first piece of her trust and, dammit, he wanted the rest.

Luc turned to the door. “I’ll see you tonight, Professor. And don’t be late.”

Then he strode out.

Chapter Ten

Eleanor told herself all the rest of that day she wasn’t going to go. That Lucien Fucking North couldn’t come into her office, say all that dirty shit to her, then expect her to come panting after him like a bitch in heat.

He had no right. No fucking right whatsoever. He didn’t own her. One night of good sex didn’t mean she was his. And it certainly didn’t mean she wanted more.

One night had been enough for her. She’d tested the waters and found them perfectly acceptable, but that didn’t mean she wanted to go jumping back in at the deep end. Especially with a guy she wasn’t supposed to be seeing in the first place.

She spent the rest of the day angry, both at him and at herself. Particularly at the way her body had responded to him and his authority, to those rough, dirty words he’d said to her.

He unlocked your cage. Are you surprised your body wants to get out and dance?

Sitting at her desk, marking essays later that day, Eleanor ran a red line angrily through a badly constructed paragraph. No, she didn’t want to fucking dance. She wanted to get on with her damn life and stop thinking about it.

Which should have been easy, given the mountain of undergraduate essays she had to mark.

But naturally, enough it wasn’t.

Perhaps I’ll tie you to my bed…

Bastard.

Frustrated, she pushed aside the essay she’d just graded and pulled over another one. She didn’t know what the hell this particular student was trying to do by including some French in their essay on the British legal system, but it didn’t make her any more likely to give them an A.