His thoughts still on that tendril, Lucien saw they were home.
He hit the garage door opener and parked the Porsche next to the Cayenne. He was out of the car over to her side with her door open when she pretended to wake.
“We’re home?” she asked in a false drowsy voice.
Lucien bit back a smile. “Yes, pet.”
He helped her out and she started to wander sleepily to the door to the kitchen. He caught her and slid an arm along her shoulders, pulling her close and guiding her the rest of the way.
“Tired?” he asked with sham solicitousness as he halted them by the door so he could hang his keys on the hook on the kitchen wall.
She faked a yawn.
Then she answered, “Definitely.”
“Let’s get you to bed,” he murmured and she nodded.
He walked with her close to his side all the way to the bedroom where she pulled away. He moved to turn on the bedside light and she sat on the bed, bending double, her hands moving to the straps of her shoe.
He shrugged off his suit jacket and walked to the chaise.
“I take it you aren’t fond of opera?” he asked, throwing his jacket on the chaise and sitting to take off his own shoes.
“Um…” she hesitated, sliding her shoe off her foot, setting it aside and then going after the straps of the other one, “no.”
Pleased she hadn’t attempted to lie in order to tell him what she thought he would want to hear, Lucien stood and unbuttoned his shirt. “I think I got that.”
She rose from the bed without a reply or even looking at him and started toward the dressing room.
Using his natural speed, he slid off his shirt, dropped it on the chaise and was at her side before she walked three steps.
His hand caught hers, she quaked to a stop and looked up at him.
“Where are you going?” he queried.
“To take off my dress and put on my pajamas,” she answered.
“No pajamas,” Lucien replied, her eyes grew wide and he turned her so her back was facing him before he continued. “I want to feel you against me tonight, pet.”
Her body turned to stone as his fingers went to her zipper but she didn’t resist.
He slid it down and she stood ramrod straight. The material parted and then fell away. She was wearing nothing but a pair of sheer lavender-colored panties edged in the same colored lace. Her hands went up to shield her br**sts as he turned her again and pulled her to him, her arms caught between their bodies.
“Take off my trousers,” he ordered, his fingers drifting up the soft skin of her na**d back.
She blinked.
Then she asked, “What?”
His fingers found a butterfly clip in her hair. He squeezed the wings gently and pulled it out.
Then he repeated, “Leah, take off my trousers.
She hesitated a moment then, stiltedly, her hands went to his belt.
His fingers found another clip and he carefully pulled it out.
“So, I take it you’ve decided?” she whispered, his belt undone, she moved to the fastening.