Knight and Stay (18 page)

Sophie stretched her arms over her head, still only half awake and blissful without even remembering why.

Disjointed memories jostled to fit themselves back together. Dan had been here, but he wasn't the reason for the sweet ache in her body. She'd gone to bed alone, her mind spinning with anxiety and the best part of a bottle of wine. She had been sure she wouldn't sleep, but she must have, because she'd dreamed of Lucien.

He'd been here... he'd touched her there. Sophie's fingers moved over her breasts, and lower to the warm spot between her thighs, still tender from holding him inside her.

Lucien.
He'd come to her. She was as sure of it as she was sure she was alone now. No dream could be so vivid, no sensation so intense unless it were real.
Could it?

As she turned her face towards the alarm clock, her eyes settled on the key he'd left beside it. Her own front door key. Kara's key.

Lucien
had
been here, and he'd loved her better when she really needed it, and then he'd melted away again.

Only he'd gone too soon.

She still needed him.

Chapter Twenty-Five

Lucien looked up as Sophie came into the office on Monday morning and was hit square in the solar plexus by an irresistible urge to start the new week by locking the door behind her and dragging her down onto the sofa. She'd wound her hair neatly away from her face, and as she hung her cherry red coat on the hook, he took the chance to run his hungry eyes over her dark grey dress. How could a simple dress become as sexy as lingerie just because it was wrapped around Sophie's curves? And he couldn't be certain, but was that the telltale bump of a suspender clip through the soft fabric? His eyes skimmed the flare of her hip and the roundness of her breasts as she turned to him, every man's dream secretary.

"Good morning, Mr.Knight."

This self-possessed creature was a world away from the soft, vulnerable woman he'd held in his arms on Saturday evening. It was as if it hadn't happened. She passed behind him as he inclined his head, and her scent had him closing his eyes as she disappeared into her own office.

Fuck.
This was impossible.

He'd turned her words over and over in his mind since he'd left her sleeping.

She'd said she loved him.
Had she even realised that she’d said it, or who she was saying it to?
They'd been in her bed, and God knows she'd been drifting half way to sleep. She hadn't said his name.
Had she assumed he was her bastard of a husband?

The idea had made him hurl his brandy glass at the wall in frustration late last night. But then the thought that she'd known perfectly well who she was talking to came with a set of problems all of its own.
She couldn't love him.
He'd made it perfectly clear all the way through.
She couldn't love him.
He'd put his cards on the table early.
She couldn't love him.

He threw his pen down and stalked into her office.

Sophie deliberately didn't react straight away when Lucien came in. She had her back to him as she stood at the filing cabinet, which she rolled slowly closed before turning to find him sitting in the chair opposite hers at her desk. He looked pent up, unusually edgy. As well he might, fresh from sneaking into women's bedrooms in the dead of night.

She approached the desk, and found herself perching on the edge of it next to him rather than taking her own seat.

"Good weekend?" she asked, running the tip of her tongue over her lips.

He swallowed noticeably then nodded, a small tight movement that involved the lightest lift of his eyebrows.

She had no clue what she was doing, apart from trying to draw a reaction from him.

She'd spent yesterday thinking about him, trying to hold onto the memory of every blissful second of his late night visit to her bed. He'd been so different. So close.
So loving.
But she knew him well enough by now though to understand that he'd compromised himself, broken his own emotional rules. She also knew him well enough to appreciate that he'd be beating himself up for it.

Letting his guard down wasn't something Lucien did, but wow, the intensity of stealing behind those barriers with him for a little while had burned itself on her heart.  

She wanted to get in there again.

"Is there anything special you'd like me to do today, Mr. Knight?"

Lucien's eyes flickered to her legs as she crossed them, knowing full well that he'd get a glimpse of her stocking top. She'd dressed for him this morning, her body and mind aglow with the knowledge that she was going to see him again.

"Sophie..."

"Oh, hang on a sec." She leaned back across her desk for her pen, a slow, full stretch that inched the hem of her skirt higher and pulled her dress taut over her breasts.

Lucien cleared his throat. When she glanced back at him he was no longer defensive, resistant, at her mercy. His eyes had regained the unmistakable look of the predator, and she knew she had him where she wanted him.

He reached out and slid her along the desk until she was in front of him. "About the other night, Sophie." He sighed heavily, longingly, and eased her skirt up her thighs until he was satisfied with his view of her suspenders.

She popped a button on his shirt open, letting her fingers linger on the hollow at the base of his throat. "I thought I'd dreamt you."

He parted her knees and smoothed his hands up to her thighs, stroking his thumbs over the clips on her stockings.

"I shouldn't have come." He flicked them both open at once and rolled his chair closer between her legs.

"I'm glad you did," Sophie said softly, watching his hands stroke over the top of her stockings. "You were very, very sexy."

He pushed her skirt up until he could see her knickers. "You're very, very sexy right now." He stroked the satin barrier that covered her sex, watching her eyes. "Do you remember everything?"

At that precise moment, Sophie was struggling to remember her own name.

"I think so..." His finger teased along the edge of the material and she silently begged him to slide it underneath. "You were pretty unforgettable."

Lucien stood up and pulled her close, his hand hot between her legs.

"You said something to me." He pushed his fingers inside her knickers, making her gasp.

"I know." She worked another button open on his shirt and dipped her head to kiss the skin she'd exposed.

"Don't say it again," he murmured against her ear, drawing spirals on her clitoris with his fingertip. "Because I won't say it back."

Sophie lifted her mouth from the jumping pulse in his neck, her fingers on his belt. "I know that too."

He kissed her then as she freed his cock into her waiting hands, one hand behind her head, the other moving her underwear aside to make way for him.

Sophie opened her eyes and found his open too, storm blue and full of things he'd never say. He thrust forwards into her, swift and urgent, clamping her against him. His gaze never wavered, connecting with her as much with his eyes as his body.

He filled her. He filled her body with his, deeper with every push, and he filled her ears with his low, shallow breaths. He was going to come soon; this wasn't slow and prolonged sex. It was urgent and beautiful fucking.

She tensed and tipped her head back as her own orgasm hit, and Lucien dragged her into him as his hips jerked.

"I don't love you," he ground out, biting her lip.

Sophie wound her arms around his neck, her fingers in his hair as she kissed him gently. "I don't love you either," she whispered, holding him close and rocking the last ebbs of pleasure out of him. "I don't love you either."

Chapter Twenty-Six

Sophie had a problem.

Lucien Knight wasn't just her rebound guy.

He wasn't just the man who'd made her feel beautiful and desired when she needed it most.

He wasn't just her screwed up, sensational lover.

She was in big, big trouble, because she'd fallen head over heels in love with the one man who'd expressly told her not to.

Lucien had a problem.

He was in over his head with Sophie Black.

Every morning he told himself he wasn't going to screw her anymore, and then she walked into his office and his only thought was when and how soon could he get close to her again. On her desk. Under his desk. In his car. He'd had her everywhere over the last few weeks, and still he wanted more, more, more.

He had to end this thing. He didn't know how to do it, or how to go back to life without Sophie in it, but he needed to find the way, and fast, because she was soft, and vulnerable, and he sensed that this had gone beyond just physical for her now.

Trouble was, he craved her body in a way that made him selfish and unreasonable, and the only thing that eased the hunger was being inside her… but even that wasn't enough. He wanted her body, but he wanted a whole lot more, too. He wanted to hear her voice. He wanted to make her laugh. He wanted to demand she go home with him after work every day, and every morning he woke up hard with the anticipation of seeing her.

She was driving him crazy, and something had to give before he did or said something stupid.

He'd made her no promises and he'd told her no lies, yet he still didn't trust himself not to hurt her even more than her revolting husband had, and that was just about the worst feeling in the world. He needed to protect her, and the only way he could see to do that was by breaking his physical addiction.

He reached for his phone and scrolled down the names until he reached Tamara's.

Chapter Twenty- Seven

Sophie closed the file she'd been reading and looked up at her computer screen as the instant message window popped up.

'I'm leaving early this evening.'

She frowned at the monitor.
Why hadn't he just stuck his head around the door to tell her that?

'Hot date?'
she typed back, a smile on her lips.

She heard his fingers moving on his keyboard.

'Something like that.'

Her fingers stilled as more words appeared.

'An old friend.'

'Girlfriend?'
She asked the question even though she knew she shouldn't.

The pause waiting for his response stretched on.

'Yes.'

His reply winded her, and she couldn't look up straight away when he stepped half inside the doorway and leaned on it a few seconds later.

"It's just dinner."

She tried to read more from his expression, but there was nothing there. He was a closed book.

She nodded, clearing her throat as she tried to smile to disguise how hurt she was.

She had no claim on him or his time, but the idea of him sharing dinner, or anything else, with another woman cut deep.

"Well... have a good evening."

His eyes scanned her face, and for a second he seemed as if he was going to say something more. He didn't though, and he left a couple of minutes later without coming back through to say goodnight.

If Sophie had hoped to find a message or note on his desk when she left a little while later, she was disappointed. It was swept clean of any traces of the day, much as Lucien seemed able to sweep any traces of Sophie out of his mind.

Was it as simple as that? Had he finally grown bored of sex with her, as he'd assured her all along that he would?

The idea filled her with cold dread.
Had she really got him so wrong?

She sank down onto his chair, her coat buttoned up but her legs suddenly too weary to carry her home.

His desk was cool beneath her cheek when she laid her head down on it, too exhausted even to cry.

"Coffee?" Tamara asked, much later that evening.

Lucien nodded and followed her out of the Aston and up the steps to her front door.

It was freezing outside, but incredibly warm inside Tamara's tasteful lounge. He shrugged out of his jacket and sat at one end of the sofa. Tamara appeared a few moments later holding a brandy bottle rather than coffee cups.

"Plan B," she smiled, her dark hair in sophisticated waves over one shapely shoulder as she sat down next to him. He took the bottle from her fingers and reached for her waist instead.

She took her cue, sliding closer and winding her arms around him.

"It's good to see you, Lucien," she said. "It's been too long." She angled her head up to invite his kiss.

She was a beautiful woman, and he was a red-blooded man. He kissed her, noticing the synthetic taste of her lipstick and the heavy scent of her perfume. Desperation to feel more turned on had him probing her mouth hard and heavily, and Tamara reached for the side zip on her dress. She stood and let it fall, leaving her naked apart from a g-string and a small, suggestive smile.

"For you," she whispered, her hands lightly splayed at her sides to indicate that it was his move.

Her lean, athletic body could've graced any number of magazine covers, but as Lucien stood and drew her against him, he didn't feel any of the things he was supposed to feel. He wanted to want her. He wanted her small, pert breasts to feel good in his hands, and for the way her nipples hardened when he touched them to turn him on.

When she pulled his shirt out of his trousers, he sighed heavily and set her away from him gently.

"Stop."

She laughed and reached out to draw him back in, but he stepped away again more firmly this time.

"Tammy, stop." Lucien picked her dress up and handed it to her, feeling like a heel when she held it against her breasts to cover herself.

Her perfectly made up brown eyes surveyed him, cool and assessing.

"What's going on here, Lucien? You haven't called in months, and now you're here... and
this
?"