Thirty-Eight ◑ The Lover (18+)

“No, wait.” Cade discarded his coat himself and threw it in the corner. “Let's go to my bedroom.”

Lucille trailed kisses down his neck, eager to feel heat, anything but this emptiness in her stomach. “You have a perfectly good sofa right here.”

The sound of the little laugh that he just let out shot straight to her core. "I think I'm in love."

Cade took him in his arms again, lifting her off the floor towards his bedroom. She didn’t even protest. She was submerging herself in the sensation of his fingers squeezing the back of her thighs, in the ravishing sweetness of their locked lips. It wasn't enough. Hungrily, she tugged his shirt up, exposing his fine torso as he set her down on the bed and rolled on top of her.

She accepted his weight with a sigh, watching a dark haze settle over his eyes, a contrast against the pale light streaking in from the blinds.

He stripped her down then, hiking her dress over her head until she was left in her thong and her stockings, her breasts bared until he closed his hands and lips over them.

Now. Thank God it was now.

The roughness of his palms and the heat of his mouth sent Lucille’s body on overdrive, but her brain wasn't numb. She pulled him up by the hair to move him away so she could unbutton his jeans, but he drew her hands above her head and continued his slow torture until she was writhing under him.

The air was red now, a perfect mix of lust, hunger, and perhaps even fury. Lucille had certainly shifted away from all her limits and was now guiding Cade out of his usual gentleness. She was unravelling herself with him shred by shred, pushing herself to near insanity with this new fiery greed.

His touches were still light, though. She wanted more. She wanted to forget everything.

She tried to roll on top of him, but he kept her pinned, taking off every last bit of clothing until she lied naked under him. His skin was pressing against hers, and while it was glorious, it still wasn't soothing the thorns that grew in her in the past hours.

Still, she exhaled slowly into their kiss, closing her eyes as his fingers trailed along her stomach, down her navel, and into her core.

Pleasure was slowly building up inside her, but her mind was still busy churning out thoughts that she couldn't get there. She couldn't reach her peak.

Lucille shifted underneath him, reaching over to touch him in the hopes of shaking out her thoughts, but he drew her wrists above her head and kept them there.

“Let me,” she whispered, locking her leg around his waist as his other hand roamed her core again, this time barely connecting with her skin. “I want to feel you.”

*I want to feel you because I feel nothing else,* her mental voice added. *I want to feel something.*

Cade didn’t release her wrists. Instead, he brought her lips back on hers as she arched her body against his.

Lucille was waiting for another build-up that would hopefully turn into a shattering release. He was touching her there, caressing, driving her nearly to a high. It was great and she wanted to get lost in the sensation, but it didn’t trap her. Nothing about this was making her feel as she’d hoped to be. She yearned for more, for something different, to silence the scream of the hollow spaces in her.

All she could think about was Dimitri.

Dimitri, who'd always been there for her. Dimitri, who'd just vowed never to see her again.

She should be mad at him. He'd basically given away the truth. She should despise him for the things he'd done.

But why did she feel like she'd just lost someone who she should be keeping? Why was her heart so against it? Why did she feel so wrong about everything?

It was as though her entire being, right to the core of her soul, was telling her that she'd just made the worst mistake of her life. A mistake that brought her here, to this very bed with a man she was hoping she'd love.

"Stop," Lucille found herself saying. "Let's stop."

Cade pulled away. "What's wrong?"

"I don't know," she confessed.

For a tense moment she thought he'd get mad, but he just rolled off of her and asked, "Do you want to talk about it?"

"No." The reply came almost automatically. "I just . . . I'm sorry."

"Hey, it's okay." He pulled her towards him as he laid on his back, against the pillows. Then he secured the covers over their naked bodies. "Let's just stay here if you like."

She nodded, adjusting herself against him. He was warm, sturdy. The distinct male scent coming from him was stirring something primal in her, but it didn't bring out anything else. Her thoughts were too muddied up for that.

Cade put an arm around her, playing with locks of her hair as she rested her head against his chest and hugged him. "I'm just here if you want to talk about it."

"I know," she whispered, ignoring the fact that his words refreshed the thought of the one who wasn't there, who would never be there for her anymore.

She wanted to forget. She wished she could just wake up one day and not remember anything at all.

◑≡◑≡◑≡◑

When Lucille woke up, it was already dark outside. She and Cade had fallen asleep, bundled up under his covers and in each other's arms. Her eyelids were still quite heavy, her body just as drained, but she sat up nonetheless.

And Cade wasn't there.

His side of the bed was still messy, like he'd just rolled out of bed, but he wasn't in the dark room. It just came to her how cramped the space was, even though it was neat. It was also quite bare. Just a bed, a drawer, a closet, and a shelf that contained about five books. The only garments scattered around were the clothes she'd discarded. The door was also closed.

She wanted to lie down for a few more hours, perhaps even call Cade back so they could sleep again. However, there was a strange hum in the pit of her stomach, and it made her feel quite jumpy. Quite uneasy.

Stretching, she swung her bare legs off the bed and began to dress, leaving the stockings since it was warm inside. The rain had gotten stronger, making a loud spattering noise. She was about to head out when she noticed that it wasn't the only highly audible sound in the apartment.

Two people were talking in hushed voices in the distance. A man and a woman.

“. . . . I was waiting for you for hours,” the woman was saying, her voice rising in impatience. “Hours. Where have you been?”

“I've been here,” the man said, and all of Lucille's nerves snapped into attention when she realized it was Cade. “Look, I know—”

“You said you were on your way!” the woman hissed. “What happened?”

“I saw that she was heading here,” Cade muttered. “I had to go back. I can't just leave, not when I realized that it has to be tonight.”

Pause. For a while none of them talked. Then, the woman stammered, “Miss Lucille is here?”

Lucille's entire body froze. The woman was Agnes.