Living in Shadow (Living In…) (17 page)

She couldn’t stop those fucking tears. Because she hadn’t known how long she’d been waiting for someone to say those words to her… until now.

You don’t need to hold on to that bullshit.

The words came out of her, hoarse and broken. “I don’t know if I can—”

His hand pressed down, sending another jolt of pleasure through her. “You can. You’re strong and you’re brave, but you don’t need to do this alone,
soleil
.”

She wanted to believe Luc with everything in her. But she’d made the wrong choice in trusting Piers. What if she made the wrong choice now? What if Luc ended up hurting her?

Oh, she knew he’d never hurt her intentionally. But…she couldn’t take the risk.

Eleanor turned her head away, tears streaming down her cheeks, the pain in her chest making it difficult to breathe.

But Luc wouldn’t let her run. He wouldn’t let her hide. His thumb pressed against her clit again and she groaned. “I can’t…”

“Why not?” He leaned down, his breath brushing her cheek, inches away. “You know you can,
mon rayon de soleil
.
You’re mine now and I would never hurt you.”

“I want to,” she whispered brokenly, “but I don’t know if I can trust myself.”

“So don’t.” His hand moved, stroking. “Trust me instead.”

She swallowed and turned her head at that, looking up at him. There was so much ferocity in his black eyes. So much determination.

“Give me your trust, Eleanor.” It was the voice of absolute authority. Absolute command. “Give me all of it. Because I want it.”

It was an order and he was right, she was so sick of fighting. In fact, he’d been right about a lot of things. And maybe he was right about this too. Maybe if she was going to trust anyone, it should be him.

So she gave in. “Yes,” she said thickly. “Okay, it’s yours.” And as soon as she said the words, she felt the tension bleed out of her, a weight lifting from her shoulders.

“Close your eyes,” he murmured, “and keep them closed.”

Darkness. Hands everywhere. She couldn’t see and they didn’t listen to her. So scared. Alone in the blackness while they hurt her…

She let her eyes open just a crack, unable to help herself. But no, this wasn’t the club and the man with her now was Luc. She’d decided to trust him and even though it was hard, maybe the hardest thing she’d ever done, she closed her eyes again, feeling his thumb pressing down on her clit, a finger slowly easing inside her. Pleasure flared bright and she let herself fall into it.

“Say the words.” Kisses against her cheek, taking away her tears. “Tell me what’s mine. Give it to me,
mon soleil
, because I would never take it from you.”

No. He never would. So she told him what he needed to hear. “I’m yours, Luc. All of me.”

He covered her mouth with his, kissing her passionately, his finger sliding deep inside her, a gentle rhythm that was nothing like their first time. That wasn’t so fast and furious and yet had a desperation of its own.

Luc stroked her, sliding another finger inside, keeping it so easy and slow that she began to pant, her tears drying on her cheeks, memory falling away to be replaced by sensation. Pleasure. No pain or humiliation. Or fear.

While still holding her wrists above her head, his mouth moved over hers, a gentle exploration. The restraint only added to the ecstasy slowly building higher and hotter inside her.

All the fear she gave up to him and he took it away.

And God, it was good. It was like giving herself up to the wind and letting it take her wherever it wanted to go. There was freedom in that. And a peace she hadn’t realized was possible.

The orgasm, when it came, swept over her, not like a crashing wave but more as a deep sea swell, lifting her up in a gradual rise that tore a sob from her. That had her pulling at his restraining hands, a deep moan escaping. He kissed her through it, a long, sweet kiss, and when it was over, all she could do was lie there shaking.

Out of the cage for good.

Luc released her carefully, burying the intense, burning rage by focusing on the touch of her skin sliding under his hands, the movement of the bed as he shifted away from her. He couldn’t let that rage out, couldn’t let that anger burn through. Those motherfuckers hurt her, but there was nothing he could do about it now. It happened in the past and all he could do was make things better somehow in the present.

Eight years ago he would have killed the son of a bitch ex-husband and he wouldn’t have regretted it, not even for a moment.

He reached toward the nightstand, grabbing a condom from the drawer.

Pushing her hadn’t exactly been what he’d planned to do, but he’d come back into the room and there she was, lying on the bed exactly like he’d asked her to. Despite all the terrible things that had been done to her. And he’d known right then that she was capable of more. That she’d gone with him part of the way and was strong enough to take the rest.

Not only that, she deserved it. To step free of the shit that had been holding her back.

His gut had told him to push, so he had. And what she’d given him… Such a precious gift, her trust. He wanted to return that gift. Give her something not just good but incredible.

He looked down at her a moment, all pale skin and golden hair, her body still quivering from that last orgasm, her cheeks damp with tears.

No more crying. No more pain. No more fear.

His instinct nudged him.

Down beside the bed was a T-shirt from yesterday that he’d dumped there instead of putting it away. Leaving the condom on the sheet beside him, he reached down and picked up the T-shirt. Then he held it up between his fists so she could see it.

“Blindfold,” he said.

She said nothing. Only looked at him with eyes gone dark, steel gray.

He leaned forward and bound the material over those eyes and though he could feel the tension in her muscles, she remained silent.

Jesus. She was strong. She was like him, a fucking soldier.

Then he picked up the condom packet, ripped it open, took the condom and placed it in the palm of her hand. “Put it on me,” he ordered. “And when you do, I want you to think only of my cock. Of how it’ll feel when you put it inside you. Knowing that there won’t be any other men for you while you’re with me.”

Her throat moved as she swallowed and he could feel her hand tremble in his. But she sat up and he helped her, placing her other hand on his already hard dick and guiding her so she could roll the condom down on him.

Her touch was warm, delicate, and he had to grit his teeth as she put it on him. When she was done, she sat there, and he could see her tremble. They’d blindfolded her, those pricks. While they’d taken her. While they’d hurt her. No wonder she was afraid. But she was so brave. This was her commitment to the trust she’d put in him and if it was the last thing he did, he was going to make sure her trust wasn’t misplaced.

That was another thing he wanted to give back to her: her trust in herself.

“Lie down,” he said.

And she did, slowly. That fine tremor still running through her limbs.

“Good girl.” He put a hand on her stomach, stroking gently, trying to ease it. “You’re such a good girl. One last question.” And he didn’t want to ask it, but he was going to. He had to know. “Did they force you?”

Her mouth tightened and he saw how difficult this was for her. But she didn’t flinch, though her voice when she spoke was a croak. “Yes.”

Fuckers. If he ever found out who they were, he
would
kill them.

“So this is your choice. Put me inside you. Claim me for yourself. And do it nice and slow,
soleil
.
I want to watch.”

It felt natural to call her that, and even though it revealed more than he wanted it to, he didn’t fight the urge. He thought perhaps she liked it, so that couldn’t be a bad thing.

Her hand moved to grip him, guiding him to her without hesitation. Her breathing had become faster and she wasn’t trembling anymore. She lifted her hips and he kept his attention between her thighs as she moved to take him.

And fucking hell, the sight nearly blew his head off. She gasped as he slid into the tight heat of her, and this time he’d have laid money on the fact that the tremble in her thighs wasn’t from fear.

Jesus, she felt good. So bloody amazing.

He leaned over her, pushing deep into the slickness of her pussy, watching her blindfolded face. Her mouth was open, the sound of her breathing harsh.

“You weren’t wet for them,” he said softly. “It hurt.”

“Yes.” Her voice cracked.

“Does this hurt?”

She shook her head, hard and sure.

“Who are you thinking of,
soleil
?” He drew his hips back then thrust in a slow, easy movement.

Her mouth opened, a soft gasp escaping her. “You.”

“That’s right, me.” He drew back then another deep, slow thrust. “I am inside you, Eleanor. I am fucking you right now. Me. My cock. Not anyone else’s.”

She arched up, her mouth open, her breath coming faster.

And Christ, she felt so good around him. Soft and hot. Slick. Perfect.

“Yes,” he murmured, moving faster, keeping up the rhythm. “Think only of me. Only of what I’m doing to you. The pleasure I’m giving you. Not the pain or anything else. Just me.” And he thrust deeper. Harder.

Her back arched, her legs closing around his waist, her hips lifting in time with his. “Oh…Jesus…Luc…”

He shifted, gripping her hips, pulling her closer so he could go even deeper. Moving faster, the pleasure whispering like electricity down his spine. She reached for him, her nails sinking into his shoulders, small pricks of pain.

But it wasn’t enough. He wanted her even closer.

He slid his hands beneath her, gathering her into his arms, sitting her in his lap, her blindfolded face inches from his.

“Who are you thinking of?” he said raggedly. “Who is it now?”

“You,” she whispered. “Only you, Luc.”

The pleasure coiled tight inside him, an intense satisfaction propelling it. Because that felt like the truest thing he’d ever heard in his life.

His arms tightened around her and he gave one last, deep thrust. She cried out, arching her back, her pussy clenching around his cock.

And he slid a hand up her back, into her hair. Pressing her mouth down on his so that she could feel him and taste him as well. So that the only memory she would have was of him. Everywhere. Giving her nothing but pleasure.

Only then did he embrace the ecstasy himself and let it take him away, the orgasm thundering through him, all flash and fire, like a tropical rainstorm.

In the aftermath, he brought her back down onto the mattress, holding her close as their breathing slowed. He didn’t want to move or let her go, but eventually he had to do both. “I’ll be back in a second.”

She didn’t say a word as he got up and made a trip to the bathroom to get rid of the condom. And he was half-afraid of coming back to find her gone, his bed empty.

But it wasn’t. She was still there, a sheet now covering her beautiful body, blonde hair loose over her shoulders. She hadn’t even taken the blindfold off.

His heart was full and tight in his chest. Emotion pressing against it. A feeling he didn’t recognize or even know how to handle.

And like a frozen limb coming back to life, it was a raw, painful feeling.

He was a killer. A monster. And yet she’d given him her trust. What the fuck did he do with that? When she had no idea who he was and what he was capable of?

You made her give it to you.

Yeah, he had. And now he had to deal with the consequences, tell her the truth about himself. But…he didn’t want to do it. Didn’t want to overshadow her trauma by telling her what had happened to him. It couldn’t happen.

Which meant he should probably let her go. Tell her to leave. Something. Because this had gotten out of hand, had become about more than merely sex. And he hadn’t intended it to be that way.

He wasn’t capable of giving her what she’d given him, not when merely surviving was so difficult.

But he wasn’t going to tell her to leave. Not now.

Turned out he was a selfish prick after all.

Chapter Twelve

It had been a long time since she’d woken up in a man’s arms, and she had to admit it was nice. Actually no, not nice. Pretty damn fucking good.

Eleanor lay on her side with Luc’s body hot against her back, his arms wrapped tightly around her. One hand possessively covered her breast while the other rested on her stomach, long fingers almost brushing her clit. And there was something aggressively hard pressing against the curve of her butt.

“I guess that means you’re awake,” she said sleepily.

“What?”

“You’re hard.”

His mouth brushed against the back of her neck. “I’m always hard when you’re around. And that doesn’t necessarily mean I’m awake.”

“It’s true.” She settled against him, giving her butt an almost imperceptible wiggle to be a brat.

Luc spread his hands out on her stomach. “Are you being bad,
soleil
? Because you know what happens to bad girls.”

Oh yes she did. Blindfolds and restraints and intense pleasure. And she had a feeling that was only a start. There were more things Luc could do. Things she could teach him, because he certainly had an aptitude for it. And now that she was free, she could do…anything.

She smiled. It had been a long time since she’d woken up feeling this good too.

“You speak French when you’re about to come,” she murmured, remembering the night before. “Quite a lot of French actually.”

He went still and she could feel his muscles tense. Hell, what had she said? “Sorry, is that a sore subject?”

Silence behind her for a moment. Then he said, “It’s my mother’s language. I grew up speaking it. And…just bad memories.”

Of course. His parents who’d been killed in front of him in some political unrest. Wasn’t that why she’d initially come here in the first place? To learn more about him?

She put her hand over his where it rested on her stomach, sympathy twisting inside her. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said anything.”