Page 32 of Silver Fox's Christmas Scandal
I readjusted on his lap and felt the evidence of his arousal, but I focused on his heart instead. "You can't change the past. But you could try building bridges now."
"How? They're adults with their own lives. I'm just the man who pays their bills."
"Start small. Call Elena about something other than money. Ask Blake about his classes. Show interest in their lives, not their expenses."
He let his head drop on the headrest behind him and looked up at me. "When did you become so wise about family dynamics?"
"When I watched my mother struggle to raise me alone. I know what it feels like to want a parent's attention." I reached for his hand, threading our fingers together. "Your children don't want your money, Lucian. They want to know they matter to you."
"They do matter. They always have."
"Then show them. It's never too late."
Something shifted in his expression, a softening around his eyes. "You really believe that?"
"I do."
He cupped my face in his hands, his thumbs brushing across my cheekbones. "How do you do that?"
"Do what?"
"Make me believe things could be different."
Before I could respond, his mouth was on mine, but this kiss was different. Slower, deeper, full of passion and tenderness I hadn't ever experienced from him.
When he pulled away I physically ached for his lips to return to mine again.
"Tessa," he whispered against my lips.
"I know."
The fire warmed the room, but Lucian’s body was the real heat I felt. His hands slid down my back, palms tracing the curve of my spine as he pulled me closer against him.
I could taste the wine he’d had lingering on his mouth, but it was softened now, not demanding. His kiss deepened slowly, intent in a way that had me arching into him without hesitation.
He shifted beneath me, the smooth leather couch creaking faintly as I straddled him more fully. The tension in his frame had eased, but not the strength—his arms locked around me, holding me steady as though he refused to let me slip away.
I pressed down against him, feeling the firm ridge beneath his pants. His breath caught, and I savored the sound, pressing my lips to his jaw.
“Bedroom,” he growled, and he was already shifting to stand.
But I shook my head, brushing my lips along his throat. “Here.”
Something dangerous flickered in his eyes, but he didn’t argue. He lifted me, shifting his hips until I was flat against the couch beneath him.
His mouth covered mine again, hunger reasserting itself. He kissed me until I was dizzy, until I hardly heard the fire popping in the hearth.
My blouse was the first thing he stripped away, the buttons undone one by one until his mouth was on my collarbone.
His teeth grazed lightly across my skin, and my back arched into him. The bra followed, tossed carelessly aside, his gaze locking on me as if memorizing every curve.
His hands cupped my breasts, his thumbs circling until I gasped.
“Beautiful,” he mumbled against my skin while his fingers kneaded my nipples.
Heat pooled low in my stomach at the reverence in his tone. I tugged at his sweater, impatient now, and he let me peel it off him. His torso was warm beneath my palms, hard muscle and strength revealed in the flickering glow. My fingers trailed over the ridges of his abdomen, drawing a soft sound from his throat.
He shifted down, unfastening my jeans, and tugged them away. I was almost bare beneath him, skin tingling with every brush of his hand.
