Page 12 of Lucien & Olivia

“Do you want to take your coat off?” she whispers.

I glance down. She’s so distracting I didn’t realize I’m still in my coat and shoes. Her lips curve in a smirk as I get up and take them off, tossing them aside. I start unbuttoning my shirt and her eyes drop. Her mouth parts as I strip it and undo my belt.

“How do you look so good?” she murmurs.

I’m too distracted to answer properly. “You look pretty good yourself, Mrs. Esposito.”

My pants hit the floor and I push her back and climb over her in just my boxer briefs. She slides her red nails up my chest, dragging them over the skull covered in roses. Sometimes I think it scares her, sometimes it turns her on.

She wraps her legs around my lower back. Not breaking eye contact, I pull her panties aside and slide into her. She’s still wet from the last time we fucked and I enter her easily, pushing until we’re fully joined. I sink down against her body and our mouths meet.

She tastes like heaven and Prosecco and if I could make tonight last forever, I would. Beneath me, she writhes and releases a soft moan. My hips move, driving my cock deep insideher pussy with short, slow strokes. Tilting my body so I hit the spots that make her whimper and roll her eyes back.

We fuck slowly. Drawing it out, savoring the feeling of our bodies together. I can feel her relax as we move beneath the sheets, the only sound our panting breaths. I sit back on my heels and drag her hips into my lap so I can stroke her clit while I thrust up against her G-spot. Her eyes roll back and her stomach tenses as she comes.

I fall over her, our mouths meeting. Pleasure surges down my spine and erupts in my groin. A groan escapes me and she catches it on her tongue, pulling my breath into her lungs. We sink down together, tangled up. Our bodies joined, her leg thrown over my thigh. I’m still inside her when her lashes flutter and I hear her breathing deepen.

I fall asleep just minutes after she does. Thoroughly satisfied.

CHAPTER EIGHT

Olivia

I wake up mid stretch. Lucien’s watch is laying on the bedside table and I reach over and grab it. It’s almost ten.

I forgot to text my sons goodnight. I snatch for my phone, checking to see if they texted. There’s a series of photos of them out in the snow in the dark, looking like they’re having the time of their lives. The last picture is all three boys lined up in front of the fireplace. I can tell Iris made them stand still for the photo because they’re all scowling and Ettore has his hand pulled back like he’s about to deck Hugo.

They’re impossible.

Lucien’s sons through and through.

Despite my best efforts to make my sons gentle, their bloodline came through strong. They’re hotheaded troublemakers. All except Marco, but he’s his own set of problems.

I push myself upright and send a group text to all the boys wishing them a Merry Christmas. Lucien is still dead asleep on his side, facing away from me. Being as quiet as possible, I slip from the bed and go to the bar to make up an ice water. I’m not hungover, but my mouth feels fuzzy. Bare footed, I pad to the window to the pull the curtain open.

It must have snowed even harder last night. The mountain is carpeted in snow. It sits in huge drifts over the hotel and the quad where we sat by the fire. Guests and staff are moving about and the mood is jovial. A group of children are having a snowball fight by the drive.

My mind drifts to our dinner with Marco and Freja. He’s been so secretive this past year. I brought it up with Lucien once several months ago and he released a long sigh and pulled me into his lap. Giving me that patient look that means I’m worrying the subject to death.

“I’m sorry, Liv,” he said softly. “I think your rose-colored glasses might be slipping.”

“What does that mean?” I frowned.

He rubbed my back. “It means…Marco grew up under your protection. You did such a good job, but he’s a man now. He’s wrestling with his dark side.”

“Marco doesn’t have a dark side,” I protested.

“Marco is my son.”

I stared at him, still confused.

“I don’t get it, Lucien,” I sighed.

“You raised him to be soft, gentle. If he’s going to accept his legacy, all that has to burn away. It’s painful to pick the person you’re going to be, it hurts to come of age.”

“Did…you do that?”

“I did it in the opposite order,” he said. “My father raised me to be an animal, no thoughts, just cruelty. You burned all that away and I had to find a balance and pick who I wanted to be for you.”

---