CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
“I poured us some wine.” I smile, trying my hardest to pretend not to notice the look of disdain on Lucian's face.
“Trying to kill me now?” He grunts.
“What?” My expression contorts in confusion.
He closes his eyes and shakes his head. “I'm sorry, it's just been a long day.”
“Well, come in and I'll make it better.” I gesture for him to enter my apartment.
He takes a few quick strides to get to my living room, then just stands there with his arms wrapped around himself. It seems like he's putting up some kind of protective wall. I've never seen him act like this before.
I walk into the kitchen to retrieve our glasses of wine, then return to offer him his. He stares down at my hand as if it's a snake waiting to strike. Hesitantly, he takes the glass from me.
“So tell me about your day.” I do my best to remain chipper. Maybe if I'm kind to him, patching things up will go a lot smoother.
“Is that really what you called me over here for?” He watches the bubbles in the glass. It hurts that he won't look at me, that he's being so cold.
“I told you why I called you over here. I want to make things better.” I take a deep breath and approach him, resting my head against his chest.
The part of me that feels like I know him expects him to take me into his arms. He doesn't though, and it makes my heart ache. It's like I'm trying to cuddle a statue. He's unmoving, uncaring.
“Today isn't the best day for that.” He disengages from me, taking a few steps away to set his glass on the bar.
“Well then, we could get together tomorrow,” I suggest.
“I'm busy tomorrow.”
“Sunday?”
“And Sunday as well.” He turns his head but doesn't look at me. “It's today or not at all. That's the only reason why I'm here.”
“Then let's make the most of today.” I walk up behind him and put my hands on his shoulders, kneading into his muscles. They feel like steel beneath my fingertips, so tense that I doubt I'm doing him much good.
He sighs, gazing down at his wine glass. His body begins to relax, and I pray to God that I'm making some leeway. Instead of speaking, I just continue to rub his shoulders, then move down to his back. Giving him a massage while he's standing is awkward, but I'm not about to stop. He deserves at least this much from me.
“I lost a patient today,” his voice is so low that it's barely audible.
“What?” I pause, unable to fathom the weight of what he's saying.
He inhales deeply and lifts his face towards the ceiling. “She was an older lady, a long time patient of mine. She came in for her third facelift. I wanted to do IV sedation on her, but she insisted on general anesthesia because she wanted to make damn sure she didn't remember any of it. She went into cardiac arrest in the middle of the procedure. I did everything that I could, but...”
My hands are trembling against his back and I can't fight the tears that are coming to my eyes. They're not for the lady who died though, they're for Lucian. I can't imagine having to bear such an emotional burden. He was right, this isn't a good time to be discussing our relationship. He should have just gone straight home and did whatever he needed to do to get over this.
“It wasn't your fault, Lucian,” is all that I can think of to say, and I know it's not good enough.
“I know, but that doesn't make it any easier.” He turns to me and our eyes meet. The level of pain that I see staring back at me makes me suck up my own sorrow and go into pampering mode. All I can think about is making him feel better. I just wish I knew how.
“Come sit down.” I set my glass of wine next to his and then take him by the hand to lead him to the sofa.
We sit together in silence for several minutes, staring out into nothing. There are so many questions I want to ask him about what happened, but I know now isn't the time for curiosity. Desperately, I try to think of anything that I can do to help him, but my mind keeps coming up blank.
“What do you want to eat?” I ask, glancing down at his knee.
Today he's wearing gray slacks and a white button-down shirt and a gray silk tie. I would probably be lusting over him if the mood wasn't so grim. It's a big time hormone kill, but that doesn't really matter right now. All that matters is making sure he's going to be alright.
“You can order us whatever you want. I'm not really hungry, which is why I didn't want you to cook.”
“Oh.” I wish he would have just told me that over the phone. Then again, I can understand why this was something better said in person.
I reach up to smooth down his hair before caressing his face, drawing his attention to me. “Tonight is all about you, alright. We're going to do whatever you want to do. We don't have to do anything at all. We don't have to talk about what happened last night. We can just sit here if that's what you want.”
A solemn smile creases his lips and he takes my hand in his, giving it a gentle squeeze. “Thanks, Amy. I appreciate it.”
“Would you like to watch television? We have the History Channel.” Keeping his mind distracted would probably be the best thing.
“Sure. Mind if I take my shoes off?” He begins taking them off before even waiting for my reply.
“Get comfortable.” I reach forward and grab the remote off of the coffee table, flipping on the television and cycling through to the History Channel, since I don't have it memorized.
There's a documentary on Nostradamus. I'm sure it's going to bore me to death, but I don't really care. I'm just happy that Lucian came over and that hopefully we can do some healing, even if we don't discuss things.
Once Lucian has his shoes off, he brings his feet up onto the couch. It takes me a second to realize that he wants to lie down and use my lap as a pillow. I mirthfully oblige, scooting to the far edge of the sofa.
Understanding that he probably doesn't want to talk anymore, I lean back and try to focus on the show. There are several historians discussing the four-hundred-year-old prophecy of the Roman Popes. Just listening to them yammering on about something I care nothing about is making me sleepy. Lazily, I rake my fingertips through Lucian's hair, hoping to soothe him.
Just before sleep is about to take me, I glance down to check on Lucian. To my surprise, he's staring up at me. His eyes are hooded though not with exhaustion.
Very slowly, he begins to sit up, his face tilted towards mine. I smile softly before leaning down to kiss him, our lips tenderly molding together.
He rises the rest of the way and scoots over next to me, his arm sneaking around my back to pull me against him. I don't resist, completely lost in the moment. My core heats up like someone just flipped a switch. Knowing that he's so emotionally vulnerable does something to me, makes me feel a deeper desire for him.
His fingertips gently whisper across my cheek, and I lean into his touch, moaning softly. When he kisses me this time, it's deeper, more urgent. My fingers almost instinctively move to loosen his tie. I need to feel his body on top of mine. Good God, do I ever need this.
I break free from the kiss, my hand sliding down the front of his silk tie. “We should go to my room.”
“Should we?” he asks, a hint of the man I knew before breathed back into his voice.
“Mhm.” I nod, standing and curling my fingers around his tie to lead him to my room. He follows obediently, keeping close. At one point, he accidentally steps on my heel, but it just makes me giggle, though laughing feels inappropriate given what he just shared with me.
By the time we make it to my room, he's all lust. He turns me around and cages me in his arms, kissing me passionately. I'm surprised that he doesn't even take a second to look around. He's only interested in me.
I catch my breath as he unbuttons my blouse, my eyes fixed on the broad expanse of his chest. As soon as his arms are out of the way, I finish taking off his tie. Then I remove his shirt.
In a matter of minutes, we're both naked. He sits on the edge of my bed and pulls me on top of him. I straddle him, desperate to feel him inside of me.
I'm not sure if our bodies have ever joined more quickly, but I'm loving it. I toss my head back and moan as I move on top of him, feeling his thickness spreading me. He kisses my throat and gropes my breasts, his hips writhing.
I squeak as he tosses me down onto the bed, crawling between my legs. I hook them around his hips and gasp when he drives into me. I wrap my arms around his shoulders, holding onto him while he pushes us both towards oblivion. The sex is needy and intense. He thrusts into me with long deep strokes, causing a tiny bite of pleasure-pain every time he reaches the limits of my body. I whimper softly, gently pressing my teeth into his shoulder.
Knowing that I haven't lost him, my heart is so full of love that I'm drunk on it. I don't even need the wine.
Lucian picks up the pace, and I blush in embarrassment as my bed gives protest. Occasionally my headboard hits the wall. My neighbors must hate me right now. Serves them right though. I can remember all the times I've had to listen to them having sex. Now it's my turn. It's a silly thing to think about, but that's apartment life for you.
“Oh yeah,” I whisper as I feel the friction building at my core. “Don't stop.”
“I won't,” Lucian reassures me, clumsily kissing my lips before returning his focus on the task at hand.
He bucks into me a few more times before grunting out his release. My body follows suit, my clit throbbing from my climax. I groan shamelessly, my toes curling. So good.
Lucian stays on top of me for a couple more seconds before rolling off and staring up at the ceiling. I want him to pull me into his arms, but since he doesn't, I turn to rest my body against him, wrapping my arm around his waist. His breathing is labored, and I smirk in amusement at the feel of his muscles moving beneath my hand. I was so worried that I'd never get to experience this again. I'm glad that I can put that thought behind me. We're better now. We have to be after this.