In the Heat of the Spotlight

‘Okay,’ he said quietly, and began to unbutton his shirt.

Aurelie felt a little shiver of disbelief. He was actually obeying her. She was in control. She watched, her eyes wide, as he finished unbuttoning his shirt, shrugging out of the expensive cotton. She loved his chest. Loved the hard planes, the way that broad expanse narrowed to those slim hips.

‘Your belt,’ she snapped. ‘Your trousers.’

His gaze steady on her, he undid his belt. Took off his trousers.

‘Socks?’ he asked, eyebrows raised, and she felt an almost hysterical laugh well up inside her. She nodded. Luke took off his socks. He only wore a pair of navy silk boxers. He waited, and so did she, because hell if she knew what she wanted now.

‘Go lie down on the bed,’ she said, and heard the waver in her voice. She wasn’t sure about this any more. She’d started out angry and strong but now she just felt confused. Sad too, and dangerously close to tears.

She followed Luke into the bedroom and watched as he sat on the edge of the bed, swung his legs over. Lay down and waited, hands behind his head.

She let out a trembling laugh. ‘You look a lot more relaxed than I would.’

‘I am relaxed.’

‘Really?’ She sat on the edge of the bed.

‘What do you want, Aurelie?’ Luke asked quietly, and she knew, she knew that whatever she said she wanted, he would find a way to make it happen. He’d put himself completely in her hands, and she understood that that was what trust was.

Luke trusted her.

And she wanted to trust him.

‘I want,’ she said, her voice shaking, ‘you to hold me. Just hold me.’

And he did, pulling her gently into his arms. She curved her body around his, craving his solid warmth. And as he stroked her hair she did the one thing she’d never, ever wanted to do.

She cried.

Sobbed, really, ugly, harsh sounds that clawed their way out of her chest and tore at her throat. She wrapped her arms around Luke and he held on tight as she sobbed out all the loneliness and pain and confusion she’d ever felt.

Just when she thought she might get a handle on it, she felt new sobs coming up from deep within her and after fifteen minutes or an hour—she had no idea which—she finally managed to wipe her blotchy face and laugh shakily.

‘I’m a complete mess.’

‘You’re beautiful.’

She laughed again, the sound even shakier. ‘You cannot mean that.’

‘Don’t you know by now I never lie?’

She tilted her head to look up at him and saw the truth shining in his eyes. ‘How,’ she whispered, ‘did I ever deserve someone like you?’

‘I could ask the same thing.’

She shook her head. ‘I don’t see how.’

‘You’re selling yourself short, Aurelie. You often do, you know.’ Tenderly he wiped the damp strands of her hair away from her face, tucked them behind her ears. ‘You make me laugh. You challenge and thrill me. You stun me with your talent and your courage. Of course I could ask the same question.’

She shook her head, still incredulous, and tenderly Luke kissed her eyelids, her nose, and then her mouth. ‘I do ask it,’ he whispered against her lips and, without even thinking about it, just needing to, Aurelie kissed him back. Softly, yet with intent. With promise.

Luke hesitated, just for a second, but long enough so she whispered, ‘My terms.’

His hands stilled on her shoulders. ‘Which are?’ he asked softly.

‘I want to kiss you. And you’ve got to kiss me back.’

‘Those are terms I can live with.’ She felt him smile against her mouth and then she kissed him again, deeper this time, exploring him in a way she never had before, because she hadn’t dared or dreamed of it.

Now she had the time, the desire and most of all the control to kiss him at leisure. In depth. She rolled him onto his back and propped herself up on her elbow, kissing every part of him that she wanted to: his lips, his eyes, the curve of his neck, the line of his jaw. His ear, his shoulder, the taut skin of his chest. She heard him groan softly and she felt a thrill of—no, not power. This wasn’t even about power. It was about pleasure and trust and love.