Exposed: Laid Bare (Laid Bare #1)(17)

With his throbbing cock pressing at my entrance, he asked, “Do you do this to me?”

“You tell me,” I said.

With that, he thrust into me—encompassing me, owning me. I thought things would become rough and harsh, as they had the night before, but Lucien stilled and peered down at me. In a pained voice, he admitted, “You are my weakness, Dahlia.”

His eyes were normal tonight, no otherworldliness. I stared up into the rich brown pools, searching for more. I wanted to find meaning behind his words, more insight into this man…if he even was just a man. I also longed to ask how I could be his weakness, when it seemed the exact opposite was true.

But there was no chance to discern or ask anything. Lucien buried his face in the crux of my neck, and then got down to the business of f*cking me senseless.

Time ceased to exist. The pleasure I experienced with him was again unparalleled. My entire body—no, my entire being—became one with Lucien. There was no more him and me, there was only us.

Afterward, I slept encircled in his strong arms. But unfortunately, when I awoke, he was gone from my bed.

“Lucien,” I called out.

Silence.

I sat up and pulled the sheet we’d left wrinkled and damp around my bare body. It was then I noticed all my bruises and marks from our earlier encounters were gone.

“That’s impossible,” I murmured.

But no, the truth was before me. I was healed.

Lucien had healed me. Now, I really needed to see him.

I knotted the sheet at my chest to keep it in place and stood. I hurried to the living room, but no one was there.

Lucien Chambers was gone. I felt it in my heart.

Collapsing onto the sofa, I let out a long breath. “No,” I cried out. “He can’t be gone.”

I shifted my weight and felt something slide beneath me. Lifting my ass, I glanced down to see what was there.

Aah, all the photographs I’d printed.

Quickly, I moved aside and gathered the images. All the shots of Lucien appeared to be in order.

But wait… All were accounted for, except for one.

“No, no, no,” I cried as I dropped the photos back onto the sofa and raced over to the computer.

It seemed to take forever to boot up. “Come on, come on,” I urged the machine.

At last, when everything was up and running I accessed my folders. The folder marked Private—the one with all the sexy shots of me—was still there, as was the folder with the normal pics of Lucien. I opened that folder, and like with all the printed pictures, the pictures I’d taken of him were in order.

Except for one…one picture had been deleted.

“You erased it,” I whispered. “And you took the one printed photo that could have exposed you for who you really are. You took the one picture that would show the world you’re more than just a man.”

In my head I heard Lucien laughing. Laughing, as he admitted, “Yes, Dahlia, I took the photo. I took what you should never have captured.”

And in that instant, all went silent.

There was no more Lucien in my head, and my body no longer felt in that constant state of arousal.

I felt only two things now—tired and spent.

I would never again see Lucien. Sure, I might run into him somewhere someday, but our time together as I knew it, however short, was over.

Bereft in a profound way, I crumpled to the ground.

I would complete my assignment, I vowed. I’d turn in the shots of Lucien. They were good photographs, capturing a confident and successful business man, but I no longer cared about the accolades I’d receive.

I felt too lost to care about anything.

How could I ever forget what I knew about Lucien Chambers? I had seen more, been touched by more. I was different now because of the things he’d exposed to me. I knew in my soul I was still connected to Lucien in some visceral way. He may have tried to break our connection, but it was still there. Faintly, yes, but not completely severed.

So where was I supposed to go from here?





Days passed, weeks passed, months passed. My photos of Lucien ran in the magazine. I received several accolades, as I’d expected. I even won a small award.

But it all meant nothing.

I got up every day. I ate, I showered, I worked, and I slept. On the weekends, I spent time with Veronica, watching movies or ordering in food. I never went out socially. I had no desire to date or meet men.

How could any man ever compare to what I had experienced?

Veronica tried to cheer me up, but it was of no use. I was empty, incomplete. Something was missing. And I knew what that something was—Lucien.

It was ridiculous of me to hold onto him like this. He’d moved on. There were photos of him out with models—dating, living his life. Never a clear shot of him, he didn’t allow that, but the paparazzi had caught him out a time or two.

On a wintry March morning, with a thick carpet of snow still on the ground, I bundled up in a heavy sweater, high boots, and a bulky coat, and drove north of the city.

“This is crazy,” I told myself as I pulled into a lot in a public park, a public park not far from Lucien’s estate. The park was empty, save for a flock of Canada geese out on the ice-covered lake.

“I need to do this,” I whispered, glancing up at my reflection in the rearview mirror.

I looked tired, with dark circles under my eyes. The past two months had been rough. No Lucien, no hits of whatever it was he gave to me.