11
Luc
Natalie was quiet on the drive back to the estate. I couldn’t blame her. I knew it had been a stressful afternoon for her.
I was quiet too, still processing everything Abigail and I had discussed in our session. And I was trying to figure out how to share some of it with Natalie without stressing her out even more.
I parked the Lexus Fee and Marco had left us to use in the drive. As we moved into the house, Natalie set her purse on the kitchen table and moved toward the fridge. “You’re probably hungry. I’m sure there’s something in here I can make for di—”
“Not yet.”
I closed my hand around hers and tugged her toward me. She turned surprised eyes my way and pushed the refrigerator closed as I pulled her in, but I didn’t let that stop me. As soon as I felt her soft body brush mine, I sifted my fingers into her hair, tipped her face up to mine, and lowered my lips to hers.
Her hands landed on my chest, and she tensed against me. It was a very subtle movement, but I felt it. And I knew it was because this day had not gone as either of us had hoped.
I wanted to change that. I was desperate to show her just how much she meant to me.
The kiss was gentle. Soft. And when she sighed and opened, relaxing just the slightest bit against me so I could taste all her warm, wet sweetness, it was all I could do not to dive in and devour her. But I didn’t want to do that. I had something else in mind. Something I hoped would prove to her I was still the man she remembered.
I was trying desperately to get back to him, at least.
I drew away from her lips long before I was ready. “You’re tired.”
“I-I guess I am.” Her gaze dropped to my chest, almost as if she was having trouble looking me in the eye. “It’s been a long day.”
It had been a long couple of weeks. And I hadn’t made it easy on her. I’d realized that today, and I was determined to fix that as well.
I brushed the silky hair back from her eyes. “I’ll make dinner.”
“You don’t have to do that. I know you’re tired too.”
“I’m not, really.” She still wouldn’t look at me. Just kept staring at my collar as if she was afraid of what she’d see in my eyes. I was going to fix that too. “And you’ve been doing all the cooking. It’s time I started pulling my weight around here.”
“I’m not that hungry, so it’s fine if you don’t want to make anythi—”
“No arguments. I know you haven’t eaten today. Besides, you haven’t had my spaghetti alla carbonara yet. I make a mean bowl of pasta.”
That pulled a reluctant smirk from her even if she still wouldn’t meet my eyes. “Mean, huh? I do like pasta.”
“Good.” I pressed a kiss to her forehead. “While I cook, I want you to relax.” I let go of her and moved to the fridge to grab a bottle of white. “Get me a glass?”
She stepped toward the counter and retrieved a wine glass. Bringing it back to me at the table, she said, “I thought you liked red.”
“I do.” I popped the cork and filled her glass. “This is for you.”
“Oh, I’m really not thir—”
“You’re full of all kinds of arguments tonight.” I pushed the glass into her hand. “Hold on to this.”
“Wh—”
Before she could protest more, I swept her up into my arms. She bobbled the wine but quickly wrapped her free arm around my shoulder and held on. “Luc, what are you doing?”
“Taking care of you the way you’ve taken care of me. Stop fighting me on it and just give in.”
“Okay.” She relaxed against me as I headed up the stairs. “Point taken.”
Just the fact she was conceding so quickly told me how worn out she really was. I didn’t like that. I didn’t like seeing her stressed. I knew it was all because of me.
I carried her into our bedroom but bypassed the big four-poster bed and headed for the bathroom. Setting her on the counter near the sink, I said, “Don’t move.”
“What will happen if I do?” she asked as I turned away from her and reached for the spout above the tub. “Will you spank me?”
A wicked burst of heat rolled through me. One I hadn’t felt in a really long time. I glanced over my shoulder at her. “I just might.”
She didn’t respond. Just looked down at her wine with a forlorn expression, one that made me ache to kiss it from her lips.
I resisted the urge only because it wouldn’t help her relax right now, and flipped the water on. As the tub filled, I turned back to her and reached for the hem of her sweater. “Arms up.”
She set the glass on the counter and lifted her arms so I could pull the sweater up and over her head. After tugging off her shoes, I helped her down, then slid my hands into the stretchy material at her waist and pushed the long skirt down her shapely legs.
When I stood again, my gaze slid over the white lace bra and panties I’d watched her pull on this morning, and that heat rolled through me again. It was all I could do to keep from propping her back on that counter, spreading her thighs, and burying my face in the sweetness between her legs.
I reached for the front hook on her bra to help her take it off, but before I could flip the latch, she moved in to me, pressed her cheek against my chest, and wrapped her arms around my waist. “Can you just hold me for a few seconds?”
Something in her voice set the hair on my nape to attention. I’d seen Natalie upset. I’d seen her scared. I’d even seen her somewhat depressed, when she’d been on my island and she’d realized I wouldn’t let her leave. But until this moment, I’d never seen her look hopeless.
I wrapped my arms around her and slid one hand up into her hair to pull her in tight, terrified of what that meant.
“It’s all going to be okay,” I said as I massaged her scalp and ran my hand along her spine, my throat thick. “I know we haven’t talked about it all yet, but... things are better. I feel better. I’m going to be better. I promise.”
“One afternoon with the blonde bombshell did that?” she said against me. “You should have gone to see her sooner.”
My chest contracted, and I cupped the back of her head and tugged her away so she could see my eyes. “No, angioletto. A feisty brunette who dripped hot wax all over my chest did that. Today just reinforced everything that feisty brunette burned into my brain last night.”
“I didn’t burn you.” Her gaze drifted to my throat. “That was a low-temperature safe candle.”
“It was the jolt I needed. You always know what I need.”
“No, I don’t.” Her eyes drifted closed. “I don’t know anything.”
I hated the despondent sound of her voice. I hated that she wouldn’t look at me. And I especially hated that she didn’t believe me about last night making a difference, because it had.
It had made all the difference.
I pressed my lips against her forehead and drew in a deep whiff of her grapefruit-and-honey scent that had the power to calm me and make me weak, intent on fixing that. Fixing all of it.