Breaking Out (3 page)

“Let's do this again sometime, okay, Ev?”

Evelyn forced a tight smile. “Sure.”

Although so much of her current situation was new to her, Evelyn was coming to learn she could do without all the indulgent excursions wealthy people filled their time with. She was grateful for everything she had. According to her track record, she was very lucky at the moment.

She was secretly in love with the most incredible man she had ever met in her life. Her mother was finally getting the help she needed thanks to said amazing man. Evelyn was growing more literate with each passing day. And for the first time ever, she had a roof over her head she could depend on. It was wrong to complain.

Still, sometimes Evelyn wished she could hide away in Lucian's condo forever, safely sheltered from the rest of the world. She'd spent her entire life outside of walls. Now she wanted to be within them and stay there. But she knew that wasn't healthy.

Being born on the streets, literally, addicted to the heroin that ran through her mother's veins like water, she'd slept on benches, under bridges, in barrels, on playgrounds, and many more unsavory places that would scare the shit out of a normal girl. It was enough to last a lifetime. She'd be happy with never going out again now that she knew what inside felt like. She was a homebody to the extreme. Maybe she should talk to someone about that, her obsession with home sweet home.

Her concern that she might be developing some sort of unhealthy dependence on her home was distracted the moment the limo pulled up to Patras.
Ah . . . home.

She reached for the latch on the door just as Dugan pulled it open. He held out a hand and helped her to the sidewalk.

As always, the Patras Hotel was bustling with life. The place had a pulse of its own. There truly was no need to ever leave.

The hotel was its own little metropolis, complete with clothing stores, restaurants, bars, salons, art galleries, and over one thousand guest rooms.

She stepped onto the gold-tasseled red runner that no longer intimidated her, and Dugan followed her to the glass doors held open by Philippe, who was dressed in Patras livery.

“Good evening, Mademoiselle Keats. Monsieur Patras left instructions for your packages to be left at the front desk and delivered to your suite later this evening. He also asked that you meet him at Vogue for supper at eight.” Vogue was the hotel's main restaurant.

“Thank you, Philippe,” she said as she passed. Once they were a distance from the doorman, she turned to Dugan. “I only have the one bag. I can carry it. No need to bother the front desk.”

Dugan, who looked tired after an afternoon of following Toni Patras from store to store, cleared his throat. “Better do as Mr. Patras directed, Ms. Keats.”

She rolled her eyes. “No wonder you're his favorite.”

The tiniest grunt of what could possibly be laughter sounded in his throat. “I believe the title of favorite has been given to someone else.”

She playfully batted his shoulder and sighed. “Oh, Dugan, you sweet talker, you. Fine. I'll wait for it to be delivered.”

“Very good, Ms. Keats.”

She tipped her head at his unshakable formality. “One of these days I'm going to get you to laugh, like, really laugh. Pee-your-pants laugh.”

“I doubt that, Ms. Keats.”

She dug in her little clutch for her room key. “We'll see. Take it easy, Big D.” Waving at him with her keycard, she turned toward the bank of elevators.

The sophisticated whispers of the lobby silenced as the elevator doors closed. She sighed and leaned against the bronze mirrored wall of the car as it rushed up thirty floors with a hushed hum. She loved the clean sent of the elevators, the way guests' perfume sometimes lingered in the air over the scent of the smartly polished tiled floor.

At the quiet ping announcing her arrival, the doors parted. She exited the elevator and took the hall to the private bank of elevators that lead to the master suites. Sliding her room key through the slot, she entered the antiquated car that was more like a gilded cage than a means of transportation. Once she was on her way, she slipped off her kitten heels and moaned as the blood flowed back into her tired toes.

As she scooped up her shoes, fantasies of sliding out of her jeans and into her robe filled her mind. How long until Lucian would be home? If dinner was at eight she still had a few hours. Maybe she would nap. She hated when he wasn't around. He made everything more fun.

The elevator slowed, eased to a stop and quietly opened. Stepping into the private entrance of their suite, she swiped her keycard again and entered the silent condo. The lights were off and the sun was fading, painting the gray shadows in a muted golden tone. By the door her shoes dropped with a muffled clunk to the plush carpet, and she removed her scarf.

Dropping her clutch to the table in the hall, she began unbuttoning her coat and heading toward their bedroom. As she focused on the buttons, a shadow passed by the blurred edge of her peripheral vision. Turning quickly, she screamed as hands suddenly grabbed her shoulders, forced her pivoting feet to reverse, and pressed her front firmly into the cool papered wall.

“Not a word,” a deep masculine voice whispered, soft lips pressing over her hair and into the shell of her ear. Panic gave way to relief as her ears recognized his voice at the same moment her nose registered his familiar scent.

Lucian.

“Your lover won't be home for hours and I plan on having you several times by then.”

Her breath hitched as a strong hand snaked under the material of her coat and gripped the apex of her thighs. Her body caught fire. Firm hips pressed into her backside, grinding and forcing her flat against the wall as his palm fit into the crease of her jeans. The heat of his palm bled through the denim of her pants. She regretted that he hadn't given her a chance to remove more of her clothing.

His grip on her thigh tightened, thumb pressing hard into a sensitive crease, massaging as she moaned, already growing aroused and needy.

“Shh . . . Lucian's not here.”

Pressing up on the balls of her feet, she rocked into his grip and he chuckled. “Is that how it is? So ready to give yourself over to an intruder? Perhaps your lover hasn't been keeping you satisfied.”

Her scarf was yanked out of her hands, the velvet a slippery tease between her fingers. Every bit of her flesh was suddenly hypersensitive and on alert. She gasped as her coat was jerked off of her shoulders, drawn back at the curve of her elbows, forcing her spine to arch, thrusting her breasts high. And that quickly he had her restrained.

The dim room suddenly went black as velvet covered her eyes, soft and cool over the arch of her cheeks. Her hair tugged as he knotted the scarf at the back of her head. Her heart ratcheted up as she could only anticipate what would come next. Would he be relentless, push her to the brink and tease her there until she begged him to finish her? Or would he be cruel and selfish, making the fantasy all the more real?

“Let's see how many times I can make you come before your lover returns,” he growled, turning her quickly. The fast turn disoriented her. The wall pressed into her back and his warm lips crashed down over hers. Taking advantage of her startled gasp, his tongue breached her lips forcefully, taking from her greedily. Evelyn moaned and reached for his broad shoulders, but her coat was still in the way.

His lips tore from hers as a chill caressed her front, his touch suddenly absent. “Don't move.” His deep voice was gravelly in a way he sounded only when highly aroused. It crawled over her senses like a physical touch and she shivered.

Breathing deeply, she pressed her back into the wall, fingers nervously opening and closing into fists. Wherever he was going she hoped he would be quick. Her eyes were adjusting to the darkness as her other senses sharpened. She could keenly hear his muffled footsteps over the carpet. They silenced as he paused and then slapped along the dark marble floor of their bedroom. He was barefoot.

She had barely seen him before he blindfolded her, catching only a flash before he was on her, depriving her of sight. She imagined him in the dark dress slacks he'd chosen that morning, shirt now wrinkled and rolled at the cuffs, collar undone and without a tie. Dressed down, buttoned up, naked, or bundled, Lucian always looked amazing.

The rich scent of coffee lingered from breakfast. The condo was cooler than usual. Did he lower the thermostat to heighten her anxiety, make the fantasy more genuine as though she were really walking into an abandoned suite with a stranger crouching in wait in the shadows? Once she considered the cold a chill took hold of her. Her shoulders trembled as her nipples tightened beneath her clothing.

The muffled sound of his footsteps drew nearer and she licked her lips, tasting his unique flavor lingering there. Anticipation shivered up her spine as her heart beat wildly in her chest. She wanted to be ravished. How would he take her? There was no doubt he would have her trussed up and at his mercy within minutes. This was Lucian Patras. When he saw something he wanted, he took it. Asking was child's play to him, something that took some getting used to for her, but over time she had learned to simply surrender where intimacy was concerned and she had never been disappointed. Even when Lucian took, he gave.

Would he be kind or relentless? Generous or demanding? He was a trespasser. Excitement allowed her to easily fall into the fantasy play. She focused on the sound of his breathing, the anticipation of him approaching. Her breath quickened as the heat of his body mingled with hers.

“What are you going to do?” she whimpered. It wasn't an act. He had her so excited that her voice quivered on its own.

A large hand gripped her jaw, pressing firmly into the soft flesh of her cheek, and tilting her head back to an incredibly vulnerable angle. “I said no talking. I have ways to silence you if you can't follow directions. Do I need to find something to occupy that sweet mouth of yours?”

Before she could answer, his tongue licked over the plump curve of her lips. She couldn't stifle the moan that followed. She was incredibly aroused.

There was an unspoken security in playing with Lucian that gave her the courage to surrender, allowing her to let go, give over to him as if he were truly taking from her with no concern for her comforts or needs.

It was fun to pretend with him, because she trusted him to stay in control therefore giving her the gift of losing herself in the game. During her childhood she rarely played, so playing now, with him, was an endorphin rush she'd never known before. She loved it.

She wanted him to take. She wanted him aggressive. Her thighs pressed together tightly and she trembled with the sudden desire for him to rip her clothing away. She felt no shame. If things got out of hand, well, that's why she had a safe word. All she had to do was call
checkmate
and Lucian would stop everything.

Like a child with a stick, she poked the impressive beast, anxious to see what he would do. “My lover will be here soon, any minute! And you won't touch me. He's very protective of me and when he sees what you planned to do, he'll make you regret ever contemplating putting your hands on me.”

Harsh laughter filled the quiet space between them. The puff of his warm breath against her cheek told her how close he was, yet he was no longer touching her. She wanted to lean forward and press into him, but held herself still, rigid and proud.

His laugh abruptly stopped and the sudden silence had her catching her breath. All calm slowly tingled away, replaced with the slight tickling of unease at the nape of her neck. Perhaps it was her blindness, but more than likely it was the absence of his touch.

Something shifted and reality wavered. How did he do that, shift the energy of an entire room? Her breath quickened as anxiety pressed into her thoughts. Rationalization of her situation became a blurry mirage in her mind slipping through her grip.

“Lucian?”

“He's not here. Just me. Me and you.”

She stiffened as his cool finger trailed over the crest of her cheek, past her ear, and down her neck. He had somehow transformed his touch, disguised it. Adrenaline coursed through her veins. It was him, yet it wasn't. How had he suddenly made her apprehension so real? She knew if she wanted to stop they would. All she had to do was say her safe word, but she didn't even want to think it in that electrified moment where she stood poised on the cusp of dark need.

Like the slight static of a balloon lifting the soft hairs on an arm, she felt him ease closer. Her lungs held as his breath echoed in the shell of her ear. In. Out. In. Out. She was glad one of them was breathing.

Like a top tightened on a string, he suddenly said the one word that threw everything into motion. His lips pressed over the soft curve of her ear and he whispered, “
Run!
”

Evelyn didn't think. She only reacted, knowing she might seriously hurt herself being unable to see, she shrugged her coat back over her shoulders, held her hands out in front of her and bolted. It didn't matter anyway. He caught her before she barely had a chance to move.

She struggled against him and he subdued her every attempt to break free of his hold. The great thing about Lucian being so unbreakable was he never had a problem with playing rough. She made the trek to the bedroom as difficult as possible for him, catching her flailing feet on furniture and biting him through his dress shirt. She'd earned a few swats on her ass along the way, but it was worth it. She loved the adrenaline rush of rough housing with her lover.

Her body landed on the cool, plush bedding and bounced with the impact. Hurried fingers attacked the snap of her jeans, and as they were yanked below her knees she twisted to her stomach and hastily crawled away. Like a manacle, fingers wrapped around her ankle and yanked her back to him.

Her heart raced as he laughed at her pathetic attempt. “That's it. Fight me. There's no escaping what I plan to do to you.”