When I'm with You (Because You Are Mine 2)

“Is all of this to make up for the fact that you kept me in the dark for so long about your mother and Ian?”

“All of this is because I missed you,” he said, his nostrils flaring slightly as his gaze ran over her face. “And because I’ve wanted you for a long, long time and circumstances have prevented it.”

“Circumstances? Such as my lack of discipline?”

“Such as my inability to maintain my own discipline when you refused to attempt to control yours,” he said with a pointed glance. His head lowered. Her breath caught when he brushed his lips across hers and she inhaled his clean, spicy scent. “And because until the night I had to leave for Paris, you refused to tell me what it was you wanted. What you needed.”

She placed one opened hand against a smooth pectoral muscle, wondering at the solidness of him, the strength. “To submit to you?” she asked shakily.

He nodded, his gaze unwavering.

“In bed. To submit to you in bed,” she clarified breathlessly. “Because I don’t know that I can submit to anyone—even you—elsewhere.”

“You will,” he said softly, the hint of a smile on his mouth when he felt her backbone stiffen. “Whenever I want you, you will submit. It will often not be anywhere near a bed.”

She swallowed thickly and nodded. “You know what I meant. Sexually.”

“I know what you meant,” he said, his voice a velvet caress against her skin. He toyed with the strap of her gown, watching himself, his actions and stare highly distracting to her. “And yes, submission sexually is what I meant. What I expect.”

“All right,” she whispered, her pulse beginning to throb at her throat. What was he going to do with her, now that she’d agreed to submit and they were face-to-face? Liquid arousal surged between her thighs. She pressed them together to staunch the sudden ache. The rose fell away, unheeded.

His gaze shifted to meet her stare, but he kept playing with the strap of her gown, his fingertips flickering against her shoulder making it difficult for her to concentrate.

“Would you like your gift now?”

“What?” Elise asked, his hot eyes making her forget the velvet pouch he’d carried. She recalled sluggishly when he placed the pouch in her lap. She stared down at it dazedly.

“I had them made specifically for you.”

“You did?” she asked with restrained excitement. His long fingers moved in her lap, flipping back the flap of the pouch and sending prickles of pleasure through her. He tilted the pouch and two exquisite bracelets fell onto the silk of her gown.

“Oh, Lucien,” she whispered. The bracelets were a pair, although not identical. Candlelight made the sapphires flicker as though they contained trapped fires. The gems were interspersed with tiny, perfectly detailed platinum charms. Her eyes wide, she studied and took delight in each one in turn: a spoon in commemoration of her love of cooking; a horse in midstride that very much resembled Kesara; a tiny lock; a miniature flag with the English Union Jack on one side and the French tricolor on the other (the only painted charm), a homage to her heritage; and . . .

“Oh,” she exclaimed, grinning happily when she recognized a platinum fishing rod—a memento of that golden summer spent with Lucien so long ago. “Thank you,” she said fervently, beaming at him. She’d received some of the most expensive gifts in the world before, but never anything so intimate. So personal. “I love them. They’re so beautiful. So unique.”

“Like the wearer,” he said. She flushed with pleasure. He lifted his arm. She watched in amazement as he drew the chain and key off his neck. “Other charms may be added. You can wear them on one wrist when you go out in public. But when we’re together like this, I’d prefer you wore one on each wrist. I will use them to cuff you.”

“What?” she asked breathlessly, thinking she’d misunderstood him. Her eyes widened when he matter-of-factly lowered the straps of her gown down over her arms, causing the fabric to slide down her chest and drape at the tips of her breasts. “But . . . the bracelets are so delicate.”

“Do you value them?”

“So much,” she assured.

“Then as you learned with the pearls, you will take care not to pull at your restraints. Don’t worry,” he said, picking up one of the bracelets and releasing the clasp. He slipped it around her right wrist. “If I ever feel you are losing control, I will restrain you with something more durable. But it will please me to see you bound by restraints that pay tribute to your beauty.” He met her stare as he fastened the second bracelet around her other wrist. “It will please me to see you exhibit a little control, even in the midst of letting go.”

Elise swallowed thickly, both intimidated and aroused by his words. She would take care of the bracelets. They were an exquisite gift from Lucien. He would also drive her to mindless ecstasy. She knew he would. She watched as he used the key to unfasten the tiny platinum lock. He replaced the chain back around his neck, then bent his head to insert the lock through a metal loop on the opposite bracelet. The lock clicked shut. Her wrists were bound together now. Could she keep the priceless cuffs intact? she wondered anxiously. A pressure grew in her as Lucien regarded her, and she knew this delicious friction is what he’d intended all along by his gift of precious restraints.

“Put your arms above your head and lean back against the pillows,” he instructed gruffly, his hand warm on her upper arm. She raised her bound wrists over her head. He pressed closer to her, his crotch brushing her hip. At the same moment that she slid against the slick surface of the bedding, reclining on the pillows, his hand glided downward, tugging her nightgown down over the peaks of her breasts, then down over her belly and hips and off her feet. She was naked, completely exposed to the night sky and the candlelight. Her nipples stiffened, not from the cool lake breeze but from Lucien’s hot stare. He groaned softly as he looked down at her.