Page 21 of Until She's Mine
“Is that why I’m here? To do something for myself?”
“Are you?” He looks at my lips again. “Then you should kiss me. One kiss,” he murmurs. “Just one taste and then tell me you don’t want more.”
My heartbeat echoes in my ears. I should pull away, should remember where I am, who I am. But the whiskey has dulled the edges of my resolve, and his nearness is intoxicating.
And I’m weak,so weak.
Lucian’s hand rises to cup my cheek. His eyes search mine for permission.
My silence is answer enough.
When his parted lips brush mine, the world narrows to this single point of contact. His kiss is nothing like I expected, not demanding or possessive, but achingly tender and reverent. His mouth moves against mine with the patience of a man who has been waiting a lifetime for this moment and intends to savor every second.
He nips my bottom lip, and I gasp, the sound swallowed by his mouth as he deepens the kiss. His tongue sweeps against mine, and I suck on it. He tastes so addictive. Like whiskey and warmspices. My hands find his shoulders, fingers digging into the soft cashmere as he pulls me closer.
Every rational thought dissolves under the heat of his touch. His hand slides to the nape of my neck, fingers tangling in my hair as he tilts my head back. The kiss grows hungrier, desperate. It is everything I’ve been denying myself—raw, consuming, perfect.
When we finally part, I’m breathless, my lips swollen and tingling. Lucian’s forehead rests against mine, his breathing as ragged as my own.
“Tell me to stop, and I will.” Lucian’s voice is rough; the words are being dragged from somewhere deep within him.
But I can’t.
The lie won’t form on my lips.
His gaze burns into mine, daring me to deny what’s already been set into motion. The fire crackles in the hearth, its warmth a stark contrast to the chill that runs through me, not from fear, but from anticipation.
“You should hate me,” I whisper.
His laugh is dark honey. “I don’t. Hate is too simple, too clean. What I feel for you is messy. Complicated. Inevitable.” His thumb traces the line of my jaw. “And you should hate me, too. But you don’t.”
I don’t. He’s Tobias’s brother, and he’s stalking me, for God’s sake. But instead of revulsion, I feel a pull so magnetic it defies logic. Every warning bell in my head is drowned out by the thundering of my pulse.
“This is wrong.”
Lucian leans in closer, the table digging into his side. “Wrong? Perhaps. But it feels right, doesn’t it?” His lips brush against my ear, and I close my eyes. “Tell me it doesn’t feel like the most honest thing you’ve done in years.”
Honesty is a luxury I haven’t allowed myself in so long. Not with Tobias, not with my work, not even with myself. But here, with Lucian’s presence consuming every inch of my awareness, there’s no room for pretense.
My fingers tighten on his sweater, anchoring myself against the flood of emotions threatening to pull me under. “You don’t play fair.”
“Fairness is overrated. Life isn’t fair, Evelyn. You know that better than most.”
I had a fair share of hardships. I worked three jobs to help with my mother’s medical bills before she passed. I buried her alone. Now, I have to hide every single piece of myself to fit into a mold Tobias created for me. But Lucian doesn’t ask me to fit into anything. He doesn’t ask me to be less than I am.
Instead, he demands more. He forces me to confront the parts of myself I’ve tried so hard to ignore. The parts that crave something real and consuming, something that doesn’t require me to shrink myself down to fit into someone else’s narrative.
“And what if I can’t give you what you want?” I ask.
Lucian’s hand slides from my cheek down my throat, his thumb resting lightly against the frantic pulse there. “You will. You just don’t know it yet.”
His fingers tangle in my hair as he pulls me closer once more. It feels like he’s giving me room to breathe, but also room to fall. The choice, as always, feels like mine, yet utterly predetermined by him.
I shift in my chair, leaning in to press my lips to his again, but this kiss is hard and messy. Wild. It’s not a surrender, but a claiming. A way of saying,See? I want this too. My other hand comes up to his face, tracing the sharp line of his jaw, feeling the slight rasp of stubble beneath my fingertips. Without breaking the kiss, I move onto his lap.
Lucian stiffens for a fraction of a second, surprised by the shift in dynamic, before his control snaps.
His arms envelop me, pulling me flush against his hard body, his strength palpable even while seated. The kiss turns ferocious, a battle of wills and desires that leaves me breathless and trembling. He devours my mouth, his tongue tangling with mine. His hands explore the curve of my spine, the dip of my waist, learning the landscape of my body with an unnerving familiarity, as if he’s touched me a thousand times before in his mind.
