Chapter 43

A nother week passed, and the messages from my mother demanding I come home became so unbearable that I spent most of my time with my phone off. When she wasn't yelling at me through calls, her texts were equally demeaning and cruel.

I wanted to talk to Addie about it, to ask her how she got it to stop—if she ever did.

She still wouldn't answer the phone.

"You know, I appreciate this," I said as I trudged along behind Simon, adjusting the sunglasses I wore to alleviate my discomfort in the sunlight and hide my vampire eyes if they decided to make an appearance. "But I kind of wanted to wallow today."

Simon glanced back at me with a raised eyebrow. "You've wallowed every day for two weeks, Lucinda."

I wrinkled my nose at him. "I have not."

He fell into step beside me and slipped his hand into mine. "I think you'll enjoy this, my darling."

"I know I will. I trust you. I'm just—I don't know what to do anymore," I huffed, my shoulders slumping. "I'm sorry; I'll stop complaining."

Simon kissed my knuckles. "You have every right to feel the way you do."

I stopped walking and pulled him in front of me, leaning up on my toes to kiss him. Simon hummed against my mouth, his free hand slipping around my waist to tug me closer.

I had so many unanswered questions: about vampirism, about my life, about my relationship with Simon. When he kissed me, they all went away.

I sucked in a breath when he released me, blinking back red tears. Simon placed his hand on my cheek with a gentle smile. "Okay," I said. "Pity party over. Where are we going?"

Simon teasingly tapped the bottom of my chin. "To the Moulin Rouge."

"Isn't that a strip club?" I asked.

"It's a burlesque show," he countered, beckoning me along. "It's sexy. It's dark. It's the perfect place to disconnect."

I pursed my lips, unsure, but shrugged and followed him. Simon led the way down into the metro station, a skip to his step. I lingered at the top of the steps, watching my vampire for a moment longer than necessary before descending into the metro.

Truthfully, I worried I was in far too deep. I enjoyed Simon's company. The sound of his laugh made my soul soar. His smile took my breath away. Even lying on the couch next to him made me feel more alive than any other person had before. We'd spent several evenings over the last few weeks watching trashy TV and getting to know each other.

I learned he had not one but four doctorate degrees: one in literature, one in history, and two in medicine. He was a nurse during both the world wars. While he'd traveled to every corner of the world, France was the only place he'd ever lived for extended periods. He preferred sunrises to sunsets and hated the flavor of pistachio.

I'd known him for two and a half weeks, and I wanted him.

I wanted every part of Simon. His body. His mind.

His love.

I breathed in the scent of his cologne as I stepped onto the metro train and leaned against him to avoid standing too close to anyone else. Simon dipped his head to kiss my cheek, then my jaw and my throat.

"We're in public," I hummed, blushing.

"And? You're irresistible," he growled, nipping at the bare skin of my throat.

I giggled. "Keep it in your pants and you can have me tonight, all you want."

He laughed. "I'm going to hold you to that."

I gaped at the theatre around us. Everything was decorated in a thousand shades of red and was more glamorous than I could ever have anticipated. People settled into their seats and champagne was already flowing. Servers came around with appetizers and meals for those who had been here a while. Laughter and cigarette smoke filled the air. I could hear the dancers and smell the hairspray from backstage.

Simon slid a glass of champagne across the table moments after we sat down. I clinked my glass against his, grinning.

I noticed all the other tables were full of four or six people. Even though the room was mostly full, no one was shown to the other two seats of ours. I didn't have to ask Simon to know he had something to do with it. Simon moved around the table to sit next to me instead of across, placing his hand on my knee.

"This is beautiful," I said, admiring the room.

"The show hasn't even started yet," Simon countered.

I grinned.

The lights went out a half an hour later and the show began. I eagerly leaned forward in my seat as music pulsed through the room, filling every space. For half a second, I worried it would be too loud. I adjusted quickly to the sensations bombarding me and fell in love with every sequin, every bright piece of fabric, and every note of music. My eyes glided over the bare skin of the burlesque dancers, entranced by their movements.

I jumped when Simon leaned forward, his breath on my throat. I tensed, instinctively melting into his touch. "You would look very pretty in an outfit like that," Simon murmured, gesturing to the women on the stage.

I snorted. "Simon, those women's breasts are on full display."

He nipped at my skin again. "I know, my darling."

I laughed and winked at him through the dark before turning my attention back to the stage. Simon scooted his chair closer to mine, leaning down to kiss my neck again. He tugged on the fabric of my shirt, moving it down my shoulder slightly to gain access to more of my skin.

"Simon," I warned.

"Lucinda," he teased.

I blushed so bright it burned my cheeks. I did not stop Simon when his hand slid down the front of my chest. He dipped his hand beneath the fabric of my shirt, exploring under my bra. I sucked in a deep breath, trembling when he pinched my nipple between two fingers. Immediately, my body felt like it was on fire.

"How do you do that?" I whispered through the dark, trying my hardest to keep my eyes on the stage.

"Do what?"

"Ignite me," I gasped.

Simon hummed. His hand pulled out from my shirt, tracing down my torso. He settled at the top of my jeans before dipping below my shirt again. I sucked in a breath. His fingers left fireworks in their wake.

"I'm trying to watch the show," I protested weakly.

He popped the button of my jeans. "Are you?"

I could only whimper.

The room was dark, but all it would take was one person to glance over and watch as Simon's hand slid below the waistband of my pants. I refused to take my eyes off the scene in front of me—beautiful people in magnificent costumes. Simon's fingers found my core, tracing over my clit. I jolted my hips in my seat, reaching for my champagne to act as normally as possible.

Simon chuckled, his lips brushing my throat. I shifted my hips forward, closer to the edge of my seat. I longed to touch him too, to take him in my mouth and show him how good he made me feel.

I stayed where I was. Simon's hand moved impossibly lower and he pushed one finger into me, then two.

"Already so fucking wet," Simon murmured.

My eyes fluttered. Despite my best efforts to keep my eyes on the show, my head fell back to rest on Simon's shoulder as he thrust his fingers into me. With each pump of his fingers, the palm of his hand rubbed against my clit, creating the most delicious kind of friction.

"Watch the show," Simon reminded me.

I lifted my head, clamping my mouth shut to suppress a moan. My eyes settled on a beautiful blonde dancer dressed in burning red. Her hair cascaded over her shoulders like a golden halo, long enough to cover her bare chest. She spun in circles on the stage… faster and faster.

Faster and faster, Simon's hand moved.

I gripped the table to keep myself from rolling my hips up to meet his hand, sipping champagne to hide the cries of desire building within me.

Faster and faster.

Faster and faster.

My head swam.

I swore I locked eyes with the dancer right as my orgasm crashed through me.