Chapter Fourteen

I end up having to beg him for his grandma's secret. Of course, without success.

‘This was amazing. I could eat this dough non-stop,' I say, running my tongue over my lips. My stomach has stopped complaining long ago.

‘I know, right?' Luc looks happy.

I can see satisfaction all over his face at the sight of my full belly.

‘You'll need me if you ever want to eat Quiche Lamaire again,' he says, watching me.

‘Or your grannie.' This makes him laugh his delicious, easy laugh.

‘If my grandma ever shares her secret with you, I'll have to marry you,' he says, teasing, but it makes me flush. I down the remaining champagne in my flute.

‘Why?'

‘So the secret stays in the family,' he winks at me and our eyes stay fixed on each other for what feels like minutes.

He pulls my stool closer to his, placing me between his legs. His face's flushed too, his eyes pinkish. He looks tired, but relaxed. He decides that burying his face between my collarbone and neck is a good idea. I agree. He lingers there, breathing in my scent, his strong arms embracing me around my waist. I'm caught by surprise at first, but after a moment I let down my guard. I sniff his hair, hold him back and let my shoulders relax. Though it feels good, it's scary as hell too. Whatever this is, it's too late to stop without leaving marks. We stay like this for a while, until I realise I feel like sharing something he has asked me about before, something I never talk about.

‘Josh,' I say. The name I avoid speaking out loud at all costs. Saying it right now even feels wrong, because Luc has nothing to do with Josh. Both names should never be said in the same room, it's almost a crime.

He stays where he is, waiting for me to elaborate.

‘My ex.' I open my eyes and stare into nothing, past Luc's amazing hair, and continue, ‘One day I told him I wanted to spend my summer doing a design course in Paris. He wouldn't let me, as if he was my owner. The day I told him everything was already arranged was the first day he hit me.'

Luc sits up straight on his stool, but before I miss his warmth, I'm greeted with his warm hand on my knee and eyes watching me. It gives me the courage to continue.

‘I was the one who started it when I pushed him against the wall, so I told myself I kind of deserved it. I also thought it was a one-time thing. I was mad because I really did want to go, and he wasn't going to change my mind. He slapped me hard across my face. I fell on the couch. But I stood up and hit him back. He hit me again, harder than the first time. There was no way I was going to win that fight. It was the day I realised that fighting back was never going to end well for me.'

Luc threads his fingers through mine, holding my hand in his. He props his elbow on the island and watches me attentively. His wide eyes are fully awake, studying me.

‘After I sobbed for an hour, guilt hit him hard. He fell on his knees and begged me to forgive him, that he was drunk and didn't know what he was doing.' I say this, rolling my eyes at my old self, for wanting to believe him.

‘It was the first of many times that he'd beg for forgiveness for hitting me. I stayed the night because I didn't have the courage to let my friends see how my face looked. I also didn't want to answer their questions.'

I feel a lump building in my throat—more disgusted than painful—as I revisit the moment.

‘Everyone loved him, my family, my friends. We stayed together for two more years after that day. At some point I got used to having to hide bruises. Each time, I hid at his place until it got better, at least enough to be covered with makeup. And so it became a vicious circle. We would have some kind of fight, mainly about something that he felt defensive about, he would get angry, hit me, feel guilty, beg for forgiveness, care for my bruises, then do it all again after a couple of months.'

I can tell by the way Luc's watching me that he feels sorry, but his face is full of worry.

‘When did you manage to break up with him?' he asks me.

‘When it became too much. I could already recognise when it was coming, and it was killing me in many ways. I wasn't even eating anymore, it was as if I was constantly on alert, watching my back all the time, afraid of making mistakes, of saying the wrong thing, doing something that would upset him. I was literally getting sick. I knew it was wrong and that I didn't deserve it, but getting out of that situation was much harder than I thought. He kept saying he loved me, but even though I didn't have much experience, I knew that wasn't love. How could he love me and do what he did to me?'

I'm not proud of what I'm telling Luc, I still feel ashamed of my past. But his calm and the lack of judgement on his face, invites me to share more. Another reason might be because I know he's not actually part of my world. His life is somewhere else and he's leaving soon.

‘The day I left him was one of the worst times, to the point where I was on the floor and he was kicking my ribs. I managed to get back to my flat, which I shared with my friend, Lexi. That night I told her everything. And it might sound stupid, but it felt so good to know that she believed me and that I was not carrying this heavy weight alone anymore. It was only then I realised I could have done this all along, shared it with my friends. I could have spared myself two years of being in an abusive relationship.'

Luc sighs and buries his face in his hands. He's speechless, trying to process my confession. After a moment, he looks up, frustrated and says, ‘I'm sorry this happened to you. I can't imagine what you've been through.'

I nod. I don't cry. I don't even remember the last time I cried, if I don't count when Gatsby, my Golden Retriever, died two years ago.

He holds me tight, and it feels like the hug is more for him than for me. It's as if by having me in his arms he can protect me from the world and somehow from my past.

‘Thank you for sharing this with me,' his voice is low and soft as he speaks into my hair.

‘Thank you for listening,' I say.

He watches me with a stern look, and says, ‘You're incredible and brave. So brave, Olivia. And yes, you deserve better. Don't let anyone ever make you feel otherwise.' Then he kisses me. There's warmth and need in his kiss. I give him what he needs, because it's just what I need too.

Slowly, his hand finds its way under my T-shirt and cups my breast. He stops immediately and stares at me, raising an eyebrow.

‘What are you wearing?' The way his gaze becomes dark and intense makes my heart sparkle inside my chest.

It's a black lacy bra with holes for the nipples.

‘You'll find out soon enough,' I say, giving Luc my best wicked grin.

He scoops me up from the stool and takes me to my bedroom.

He sits on the bed with me on his lap straddling him. His mouth fiercely kissing mine. I'm making a mess of his soft hair with my fingers as I feel him harden underneath me. He moves to kiss my collarbone, an insanely arousing combination of his warm soft tongue and his stubbles scratching my skin. He pulls my T-shirt up and watches me for a second with his naughty gaze focused on my exposed nipples.

‘Do you have any idea how arousing this is?' he asks with a serious expression, his eyes in flames meeting mine. He gently circles both my nipples with his thumbs, his hands cupping my breasts. I give him a moan as a reply. He has these magical hands, I don't know if it's the rough skin or his long fingers or the warmth of his palms, but when they touch me I feel like I'm under some kind of spell and only he has the power to put me to rest.

I pull his T-shirt over his head and push him onto the bed so I stay on top of him, my breasts on his face. He takes advantage of my strategic position and covers my nipple with his mouth. The contact makes me tip my head back with pleasure. I hold the headboard with one hand for support and start to roll my hips, causing a delicious friction between my sex and the length of his hard cock, our clothes still on. I move faster and if I do this for a little while longer I'm gonna come, because the face he's making as he sucks on the sensitive skin of my nipple is making me lose my mind.

‘Slow down or I'm gonna come in my pants,' he says breathing hard, his gaze holding mine. This almost makes me lose it. Though it feels too good, I slow down because I want to make it last longer. I might have spent the day waiting for this moment.

I prop myself on my elbow and kiss him. Hard and hungry, I suck on his tongue. He nibbles on my lower lip and I return the gesture. I cover his stubbled jaw with wet kisses, and with the tip of my tongue I trace a path down his throat, he groans shakily. Then I drag my tongue on the soft skin of his chest, and the hard muscles on his stomach, which are now clenching in reaction to my touch. I keep going down slowly, making him suck air through his teeth as my mouth reaches his jeans. I open his button and fly underneath me, I do it slowly on purpose and as I do so I watch him watching me. He places one arm under his head, flexing his biceps, the other gently tugs on my hair. I pull his Calvin Kleins down just the enough amount to free his erection and take it in my hands. It's hard and hot. It's so arousing to know that I'm doing this to him. It feels so good to be in power, to know that I'm also capable of driving Luc as crazy as he makes me.

I lick his salty precum and he inhales sharply, holding his breath as if containing himself. I cover his cock with my mouth and he stiffens, hardening even more. I circle the crown with the under surface of my tongue. He's pulsing inside my mouth, the muscles of his stomach clenching with the building pleasure, his tongue running along his lower lip, his gaze fixed on my mouth. When he's close, I stop, and he swallows hard.

He pulls me up so we are face to face, my legs on each side of him. He strokes my mouth with his thumb and lifts his eyes to meet mine. In one move he places me underneath him, one knee on each side of me, reversing our positions. He pulls my jeans down. He studies my panties and realises there is a very strategic hole there too. He smirks and shakes his head.

‘You're evil, Olivia.' He raises an eyebrow and bites his lower lip as his hooded eyes lock with mine.

Then he slides his middle finger inside of me through the hole in my panties, making me gasp. He does it a few more times, then fills me in with his hard, thick cock. He does it slowly, every inch of his skin sliding inside of me, filling me in. All the while he watches, having fun with the fact that he doesn't need to take my panties off.

He rolls his hips and glides inside of me, in and out, in and out. I'm so close, and he knows it. In and out. He pinches my nipple hard and keeps doing it as he slides in and out. My sex's tightening and pulsing faster around him. Just as I begin to tremble and moan, he retreats from me and releases himself on my belly. It is so insanely erotic it makes me lose any rational thought. It prolongs my own orgasm.

‘Fuck,' Luc moans and quivers, holding his length in one hand, propping himself on the other so he doesn't fall on top of me.

I watch him collapse beside me, trying to even his breathing. Once we recover from the intensity of the moment, he faces me and says, ‘I've made a mess.'

‘Yeah, you did,' I say grinning, not even close to being mad about it.

He smirks and says, ‘Sorry, let me help you.'

We clean ourselves up and snuggle on the bed, wearing only our underwear.

‘What is it with you and lingerie, woman? You're gonna make me crazy,' he says, playing with the lace of my bra.

‘What is it with you and lingerie?' I ask back.

‘I blame it on the designer and model,' he speaks against my mouth.

He traces a path with his finger between my breasts and down my belly. I immediately start to laugh and he begins to tickle-attack me. He's on top, holding me between his legs as he tickles me everywhere, I'm almost crying with laughter.

‘Stop. What is it with you and tickles?' I say with effort, laughing so much I can feel tears rolling down the corner of my eye to my ear.

Then he stops. He's watching me with a serious, almost painful expression. I stop smiling immediately.

‘What's wrong?' I ask. Luc can be so expressive and intense sometimes.

‘Nothing. I just …' he sighs and continues, ‘I wish I'd never make you cry. Unless it's of joy,' he says it in such a deep way I feel my heart squeezing inside my chest.

I raise a hand to his jawline, running my thumb over his scruff.

‘Good news is, I haven't cried in almost two years, so the chances are very slim,' I say, giving him a reassuring smile, but his smile isn't so convincing.

I pull him toward me and he rests his head on my chest, his ear against my heart. I realise he enjoys doing this, listening to my heart. I bury my nose in his head and wish we could stay like this for days, in this bubble, on this bed, alone, the smell of sex lingering in the air.