Page 68 of Twisted Trails
Fuck, he’s so damn sexy.
He kisses down my throat, his teeth grazing the skin at my neck, nipping just enough to make me squirm. Then he moves lower, lingering at the hollow of my collarbone, before trailing down slowly, until his mouth wraps around my nipple. I grab onto his hair and gasp, holding tight and anchoring him to me as he sucks. A shudder wracks through my body as his suck turns into a nibble, sending a ripple of pleasure all the way to my toes. I moan, hips tilting, my whole body instinctively reaching for more.
His hands slip beneath the waistband of my sweatpants, sliding them down, and leaving me in just my boxers. He grips my pussy over the fabric, making my clit throb as he strokes me teasingly with his broad, warm palm.
“Huh,” he murmurs with a wicked little smirk. “That’s odd. I could’ve sworn there was a littlesomethinghere last time I got a feel.”
My face burns, the flush already there from desire merging with embarrassment. “Yeah, well, it was a pair of socks.”
Luc throws his head back with a laugh, still palming me. His whole body shakes with it, and I can’t help it. I start giggling, too, my breasts bouncing with the rhythm. His laugh cuts off abruptly as he zeroes in on the movement, and mine chokes to a stop when he strokes up and down my slit, lighting my body on fire as he feels how damp the fabric has already gotten.
“No wonder you didn’t get hard for me. But you get wet for me pretty easily, it seems.”
I huff. “Full of yourself, Delacroix? You think you could have me?”
I’m not sure why I’m smack-talking the man rubbing my pussy like the champion he is, but I can’t seem to stop myself.
He smirks. “I already do,Petite.” Then he kisses me again, groaning into my mouth, like the sound is being pulled straight from his chest. “Fuck, I love you.”
My whole body stills.
Did he just?
“What?” I breathe out, laughter still clinging to the edges of my lips.
“Shit, sorry. That, ah, came out fast, didn’t it?” Luc’s movements against me slow, the air around him stilling as his face pinches in uncertainty. “I just…” He shifts, brushing his hand nervously through his hair. “I wasn’t going to say it, not yet. I didn’t mean to make it weird. It’s just, look at you, and look at this, and I didn’t expect it to hit me like this, but it did, and I?—”
“Luc,” I say, cutting into his adorable rambling as my heart gallops, my ribs stretching to contain it. “How do you sayI love youin French?”
He exhales, and softer than I’ve ever heard him, he breathes, “Je t’aime.”
I brush his hair from his forehead, needing to see him fully, and for him to see me.
“Je t’aime, Luc.”
I mean it with every bruised rib, scarred inch, and jagged piece of me that’s somehow still standing. The words come out quietly, but inside, they roar, crystal clear and unafraid. And somehow, saying them doesn’t make me feel exposed but makes me feelwhole.
Luc’s gaze softens, and with reverence that steals my breath. He hooks his fingers into the waistband of my boxers and slowly slides them down, baring me completely.
Everything else, every worry disappears, because there’s only him and me under the stars, wrapped in lavender, and only the sky to bear witness.
He kisses me again and again as if every press of his mouth is a vow. “Je t’aime, ma Petite.”
A soft rustle, a whisper of movement, and something featherlight brushes against the curve of my hip. I blink down to see that Luc is holding a single stem of lavender between his fingers.
He skims the purple petals over my skin and down my side, then up the arc of my ribs, before gliding across my stomach and chest, and circling one nipple. I gasp and arch against the blanket as goose bumps rise in its wake, following the slow path he draws.
His eyes darken as he watches it all, and from just that look, my squirming becomes writhing anticipation.
The bloom glides over my pelvis, and I suck in a hiccupping breath.
I feel it everywhere.
Luc chuckles. “You okay?”
I nod, but my hips shift at how wet I am already, howtightly wound I’ve become under just kisses, the touch of lavender, and his gaze. “Luc…”
“What do you want,Petite? Tell me.”
