His Wicked Seduction novel Chapter 53

Dreams were wonderful things, no one could dispute that. But the moment when an intangible vision of one's desires becomes a reality? That is something infinitely more powerful and breathtaking than the moonlit inspired visions woven in the night. Now here Horatia was, waking beside Lucien. She blinked a few times to clear her vision and glimpsed snow falling outside the large window opposite her.

The flakes had clumped into penny-sized blotches, drifting down like feathers. It was still early. The light in the sky was reduced to a heavy gray by the voluminous winter clouds. Horatia lay nestled next to him, the heat of Lucien's body warming her back. She rolled over, settling deeper into the feather bedding as she studied him in the dim morning light.

Lucien was stretched out on his stomach. One hand was fisted around the bottom of his pillow, scrunching it up beneath his cheek. His other arm dangled off the side of the bed. The wide expanse of his shoulders and back were exposed as the sheets rode low on his hips. His face was turned towards her, his dark lashes spiking across his cheeks as he slept. Although Lucien was thirty-three, Horatia could see the boy in his features as they softened with sleep. She ached to brush her hand along his brows and trace the strong, straight aristocratic nose down to his sinful lips.

The lines of his body were carved with muscle. A long, pale pink scar dipped along the side of his chest and stopped at the top of his hip. Without thinking Horatia ran a curious fingertip along the raised surface of the mark. Lucien stirred at her touch, and his eyes opened. Horatia wished she knew the smallest details about him-the things a lover or a wife would know-such as whether he woke easily or not.

"Lucien, are you a light sleeper?" she asked.

His gaze warmed as he seemed to consider her question.

"Why do you wish to know?" He remained still, watching her, the closeness between them overwhelming her senses.

"I was curious," she hedged.

She realized her finger was still touching him near his left hip. She didn't pull her hand back.

I should stop touching him, she told herself. But instead she let the rest of her fingers splay defiantly on his skin, the touch intimate and possessive. Lucien did not shift his gaze away from her.

"I am a light sleeper. And you?" It seemed he was aware of the intimacy of the moment, and the conversation.

"Sometimes when I am worried or vexed I have trouble sleeping."

"You slept soundly last night," Lucien observed.

"That is because..." Horatia felt her cheeks flush.

"Because?"

"Because I feel safe when you are near." She could not tell him how she really felt. That being near him made her both restless and peaceful, that she trusted him with her body, heart and soul. When he was with her the dark memories that haunted her could not penetrate the ring of light he shone about her.

Lucien did not reply. Instead he propped his head up on one hand and removed Horatia's inquisitive hand from his hip. He studied her fingers and palm, his thumb teasing patterns on her skin. He spread her fingers and placed his own palm against hers, matching their hands, though his fingers were much longer than hers. Then he laced their fingers together and pulled her towards him.

Again, Horatia was struck by their closeness, and it left her struggling for breath. What if he pushed away again, as he always had before? The idea was unbearable. She had to emotionally take a step back through conversation.

"Lucien, how did you come by that scar?"

"Which one?"

"The...the one on your hip." She couldn't believe she was in bed with Lucien discussing his hips. If it weren't for her breathless fascination with his body, she would have laughed at the prudish shyness she was feeling.

"Oh that." Lucien laughed and placed a soft kiss on the back of her fingers.