Page 54 of Sins of the Father
A faint smile curved her lips. “All those scented soaps weren’t my gifts?” she teased softly.
“I confess,” he murmured, his mouth tilting into a wicked grin, “those were for my pleasure. This morning your skin smelled like grapes, and when I tasted you…” His voice dropped, husky and intimate. “You tasted the same.”
Her breath caught, heat blooming low in her belly.
Then he kissed her. Luc cupped her face in his hands, his thumbs brushing over her cheeks as his lips moved over hers with a tenderness that felt like a new beginning. Mia melted into him, her hands sliding up his chest and around his neck. She felt incredible in his arms—soft, warm, too easy to hold. And as he kissed her, Luc felt himself drowning in her, powerless to stop the fall even as he knew how dangerous it was to have a weakness.
Mia tastedthe coffee on Luc’s tongue, the faint, metallic hint of blood from where he’d bitten his lip in restraint. That very restraint—the dangerous, simmering control she’d come to both crave and resent—thrummed between them like a live wire. It was the one barrier left between who they were and what they could destroy together. She wanted to shatter it.
When her nails scraped down his chest, sending buttons skittering across the floor, the sound of tearing fabric broke something open inside him—and inside her.
“Christ, Mia.” His groan vibrated against her throat, low and primal.
Her fingertips brushed the raised scar beneath his collarbone, a ridge of flesh she’d noticed before but never dared to touch.
“You don’t know what you’re—”
“I know because I feel it too.” Her voice trembled, not from fear, but from conviction. She arched into him, wanting to feel every solid, unyielding inch of him.
The desk met her back with a jarring thud. Papers fluttered to the floor like fallen leaves, forgotten as Luc’s hands slid up her thighs with slow, consuming intent. Everywhere he touched, her body responded, a spark turning to flame, flame to hunger.
“Look at me.”
The quiet command sent a shiver through her. When she obeyed, the rawness in his gaze stripped her bare in a way no touch ever could.
“This isn’t just fucking,” he said roughly. “Do you understand?”
She nodded, her throat too tight to speak. His teeth grazed her neck, and the sharp sting bled into pleasure, a perfect reflection of them—pain and passion, defiance and surrender, bound together in impossible ways. When he entered her, it wasn’t with dominance but reverence. Luc’s forehead dropped to hers, his breath mingling with hers, hot and unsteady. The stretch was exquisite, an ache that turned to bliss as he stilled inside her. Her hands clutched at him, needing the solidity, the reality of his weight pressing her into the world.
“Luc, I—” Her words dissolved into a moan as he began to move, each thrust carving her open, claiming, yet somehow giving.
The rhythm built until everything else fell away—the creak of the desk, their ragged breaths, the slap of skin meeting skin. Her nails raked down his back, leaving crescent moons of desperation and want.
He bit gently at the shell of her ear, then soothed the spot with his tongue. Her release came like a wave she couldn’t contain, tearing a cry from her throat. He followed her, shuddering, her name on his lips, a prayer, a curse, a confession. When it was over, he stayed there, his breath rough against her skin. Mia’s fingers drifted to the tattoo over his shoulder—a dagger wrapped in roses. She traced it slowly, thinking how perfectly it captured him: danger cloaked in beauty. And yet, somehow, this peril had come to feel like home.
A sudden knock startled her. She gasped, the spell shattering. Luc eased back, and she slid off the desk, tugging her panties into place. Her body still throbbed from their joining, slick with the reminder of him.
“Your surprise is here,” he murmured.
“My surprise?”
“Yes.”
Mia smiled. They straightened their clothes, and Luc took her hand, leading her from the study and down the hall. A woman stood waiting, dressed in a sleek red dress that stopped mid-thigh. Mia frowned, her mind still fogged from pleasure, curiosity stirring as the woman turned.
Mia’s breath caught. “Bianca?”
A rush of emotion surged through her, disorienting and overwhelming. With a joyful cry, she rushed forward, just as her friend did. They collided in laughter and tears, clutching each other as words tumbled out between gasps and sobs.
“You’re here. How are you here?” Mia managed, emotion thick in her throat.
“Luc arranged everything,” Bianca said, laughing and crying all at once. “Mia, I’vemissedyou so much.”
“I missed you too,” Mia sobbed. “I am so happy you are here.”
When they finally drew apart, Mia turned to find Luc standing a few paces away, watching them with that small, almost imperceptible smile tugging at his mouth. Something in her chest clenched. She crossed to him in quick strides, grabbed the lapels of his jacket, and tugged him closer. “Thank you,” she whispered, her voice hoarse with feeling. “This is the most perfect surprise.”
Then she kissed him. It wasn’t soft or tentative; it was fierce, grateful, overflowing. She poured everything into it—the ache, the longing, the impossible love that had taken root between them despite every reason it shouldn’t have. His hands came to her waist, steadying her as she leaned into him, her heart pounding so hard she could feel it in her lips.
