There was a slow burn under his skin all day, like an itch that couldn't be scratched. His leg was constantly bouncing, his fingers drumming, his tongue clicking.
After coming home, he'd headed straight for his study and poured himself a drink but it still hadn't taken the edge off. Downing the rest of his scotch in a single gulp, he perked up at the sound of Jean coming in through the sunroom door. Ever since their engagement, Lucien's thoughts never strayed far from her and today it was especially true. He'd missed her terribly.
Padding through the house in search of her, he found Jean settling on the couch with a cup of tea. Her stocking-clad feet were curled up under her and she was delicately handling the teacup, using her palms to bring it to her lips.
Looking at his fiancée so at home and incredibly feminine warmed Lucien from head-to-toe and that itching, burning feeling under his skin returned full force. He needed to touch her. Now.
"Hello, sweetheart. You're just getting home?"
Jean smiled at him in greeting and lifted her head for a quick, hello 'kiss.' She hummed against his mouth before pulling away. "Yes. Some of the ladies from my sewing circle thought it would be fun to have a bit of a girl's day out. So we went for lunch and got our nails done."
She wriggled her fingers at him and smiled. His eyes flicked over the freshly painted nails, a deep, enticing red. Lucien closed his eyes against the images of those nails scratching down his back, her legs wrapped around his waist, his name dripping from her lips...
Shaking himself away from those thoughts, he sat down next to her, hand resting on her calf. "They look absolutely lovely, Jean. As does the rest of you, may I add." Lucien leaned over her and took the teacup out of her hands, placing it on the side table.
"Lucien, what-I was drinking that!"
He ignored her protests. Now that he had her so close, he identified that itch under his skin. Arousal. "I missed you today." He nuzzled at her neck, inhaling the scent of her perfume-rose and clean soap.
She rolled her eyes at him, fondly, rolling her neck to the side to allow him access. "Lucien, we've been apart far longer than a few hours before."
Lucien nodded, pressing his lips to the curve of her neck. "I know, love. But today, well, I just wanted to be near you. I've been jumpy all day, ask Matthew."
He decided Jean was too far away from him and with a tug on her arm, carefully avoiding her freshly painted nails, he pulled her on top of him so they were laying horizontally on the couch.
Jean let out a yelp, hands bracing herself on his chest. Lucien looked rather smug and wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her even tighter against him. He wanted to feel her-every inch of her-pressed against him.
She looked down on him, exasperated and wary. "Lucien, wha-We can't lay like this."
"Why not? You're my fiancée. I'm going to marry you. You're going to be my wife. We are going to do much more than lie together on a couch when we're married."
Jean's face flushed with warmth at the sound of him reaffirming their future together and at the thought of what married life would entail. She leaned down and pressed a kiss to his lips, gentle and probing.
So many of their kisses were hurried, but now with the house empty and Lucien pliable beneath her, Jean felt she could finally take her time. It had been so long since she'd kissed a man this thoroughly.
She took his bottom lip between her lips, sucking gently before biting down lightly. Lucien bucked beneath her, hands tight on her hips.
She pulled away, smiling. Lucien's eyes were looking up at her, dark with desire and want. She had a feeling if she asked him to jump right now, he'd ask her how high. It had been too long since she'd exercised this particular power over a man.
Before she could resume her exploration of his mouth, she caught sight of her nails. The polish on her pinky was smudged.
"Oh, Lucien, we can't, not now. My nails..."
Groaning, he sat up, still clutching her to his chest. "Jean, my love, we most certainly still can. Just, just let me." He knew he was begging at this point, was literally on his knees as he pushed her back onto the couch and sat between her legs.
"Please, just let me."
Jean's heart was racing in her chest. Her doctor, her Lucien, was kneeling between her legs and begging to touch her. That sense of power surged through her again. This incredible man was brought to his knees by his need to be close to her.
How could she deny him? With a dry mouth, she nodded and widened her legs, allowing more room for him.
He kissed the inside of each of her wrists and placed them on either side of her thighs. "Just don't move your hands," he instructed. "Don't smudge the polish."
And then Lucien fell upon her like a man dying of thirst and she was a tall glass of water. He surged up to tangle his hands in her hair, bringing her mouth to his. Instinctively, her legs came up to hitch over his hip, tugging him closer. Lucien was in control, his hands wandered from the base of her head, around the curve of her neck, grazing down over her breast, and finally coming to rest at her hip, tugging her into him.
Jean moaned against him, her body hot and tingling everywhere he touched her. Instinctively, she moved to wrap her hands around his neck but Lucien caught her by the wrist, shaking his head. "No, love. Not with your nails still wet."
She shifted against him, desperate to touch him. He smiled at her sound of displeasure and, still holding her wrists, ducked his head to kiss the inside of her wrists, trailing kisses up her arm, and stealing another kiss from her lips. The feel of his beard scraping against her sensitive, soft skin heightened her pleasure.
Then, his lips were by her hear. "Don't make me tie you down, love."
He pulled away, grinning smugly. He expected to see her look shocked but instead, her lips parted in desire, her eyes darkening further. She didn't look shocked at all, she looked intrigued.
Lucien groaned at the image of Jean tied up on his bed, completely spread out before him, writhing beneath his touch.
Jean leaned forward to press another kiss to his lips before stopping to lean her forehead on his, closing her eyes and breathing deeply. She squeezed her legs around his waist once more before disentangling herself from him.
"We should stop before we can't, Lucien."
He nodded against her and sat back on his heels, hands drifting over the tops of her thighs. "Not much longer, love. Once we're married, we'll never have to stop ourselves."
Lucien stood, hoping Jean didn't notice how tight his trousers were against his straining erection. Jean's hair was disheveled, her face flushed, and her chest rising and falling rapidly, still catching her breath. He felt irrationally proud that his touch had done this to her.
He pressed a kiss to the top of her head. "If you'll excuse me, love, I need to just, take care of some, uh, paperwork."
He shuffled off to his bedroom, each step more uncomfortable than the last. He was loathe to leave Jean behind. There was nothing he wanted to do more than to carry on with their coupling, to slide his hands under her blouse and tug her stockings down over her legs and press kisses over every exposed inch of skin.
Jean, for her part, bit her lip to hide her grin. Paperwork? Really? Lucien had apparently forgotten she was married once. She knew exactly what paperwork he had to fill out. Standing up on shaky legs, she picked up the teacup and caught side of her nails.
She had never hated red nail polish more.