Exposed: Laid Bare (Laid Bare #1)(14)

But even that unsettling thought didn’t stop me from smiling and saying, “Let’s go.”





Maybe this man was capable of magic. Maybe he himself was filled with some kind of magical powers.

I wasn’t sure, and it all seemed kind of nutty, but I had no other explanation for how I was able to so willingly forget his dismissive treatment of me on the phone.

But forget it I did.

I allowed Lucien to lead me away from the throngs of people. I allowed him to guide me—my hand in his—to a private, closed-off part of the club where the music was nothing but a distant echo of bass beats.

“This is a much more private spot for us to talk,” he murmured as he led me farther and farther away from any lingering people.

Talk… Somehow I had a feeling we’d not be doing much talking.

We walked up three winding sets of metal rungs, my high heels making little ting-tings along the way.

“Am I walking too quickly for you?” Lucien asked, concerned, it seemed, as he slowed to a stop.

When he turned to me, one step higher than where I stood, I glanced up at him.

Beautiful, I thought as I gazed into his deep brown eyes. Everything looked normal, at first, but then I saw beyond Lucien’s chiseled features, beyond his perfection. I saw myself reflected back to me in his gaze. And I knew then what he saw in me. I was what he ultimately wanted—innocence he’d corrupted.

As if on cue, the peaks of my breasts grew taut beneath the draped sequin material of my dress. “Are you doing this to me?” I inquired.

“No. Your reactions are your own.”

“And you approve.”

He nodded slowly, a smile curving one side of his mouth. “Yes, I approve.”

The skin exposed at the tops of my stockings, and below the hem of my dress, suddenly felt all tingly. I somehow knew that in Lucien’s eyes it looked creamy and inviting.

“Good enough to eat,” he whispered.

And it was then I felt too exposed. Damn, my dress was entirely too short. Why had I worn it?

But these were not my thoughts, these were thoughts Lucien was putting in my head to mess with me.

“Stop it,” I snapped.

“No,” he retorted.

His control was unwavering. His will was ironclad, and I was no match. Again, Lucien asked why I’d worn the dress. He asked his question from inside my head.

“I wore it for you,” I whispered, capitulating. “Part of me hoped you’d show up tonight. But you probably knew that already, right?”

No answer.

We were near the top of the steps, mere feet from the entrance to the private area to which he’d guided me. I thought we’d continue the rest of the way at this point, but we stayed where we were—Lucien one step above me.

Slowly, he reached out and moved aside the draped material at my chest, exposing one breast.

“I like this dress,” he said. “And I’m glad you wore it.”

He pinched one nipple, and I gasped from the sharp pain. I was also instantly aroused. This state of arousal, however, was unlike all the other times I’d thought of Lucien, all the times I’d touched myself thinking of him. Almost unbelievingly, this was much more intense.

Lucien smiled, and I thought: He must know my thoughts. If he can inject himself in my head, perhaps he can see what is in there, as well?

“Not everything,” he replied in a low, husky voice.

“You heard me in your head?”

“Yes.”

“What are you?” I asked, peering up at him curiously.

I received no answer. Instead, he said, “I want that picture, Dahlia.”

I shook my head. “No.”

It was my only hold over him, my only power play.

“We’ll see about that,” he replied, smirking.

Lucien suddenly swept me up in his arms. His strength was amazing. He held me pressed to him with ease as he leaned down and kissed me ferociously. There were no other words to accurately describe his hunger, his desperate touches, or his exertion of power over me.

Finally, he lowered me so I could stand beside him on the step. I found my footing and waited while he moved one step lower, to the step I’d been standing on before he lifted me to him.

From this new vantage point, he crouched down, like a feral being, and ran a firm hand up my stocking-covered leg. Stopping at the garter, he rasped, “Sexy. You are so sexy.”

“Lucien,” I moaned.

His touch was already driving me wild with lust. I felt my * grow wetter and wetter. Lucien’s strong hand trailed higher, and when he found me lacking panties—and dripping for him—he let out a lust-filled growl.

Kneeling on the step below me, he urged me to spread my legs wider. “Lean back and hold onto the railing,” he ordered.

I did as commanded, and then Lucien lifted my dress and placed his head between my legs. He went at me like my folds were the most delicious treat, lapping and licking and doing things with his tongue that were decadent and sinful.

I gripped his dark hair, and gasped. “Yes, right there,” when he drove his tongue up into me.

Pressing at just the right spot resulted in me coming…and coming…and coming. Finally spent, I almost crumpled to the ground. But Lucien kept me upright.

I thought it would all end there, I thought he would send me on my way. And I especially thought he would once again demand I relinquish the photograph of him, the incriminating shot that exposed him as something more than a mere man.