Like Teenagers

"Jean, I'm so sorry that our wedding isn't going to be like that," Lucien apologized with a laugh, taking her hand as they walked to the car from the lavish Tyneman wedding reception.

She grinned. "Oh yes, such a pity we won't be spending a fortune on flowers and place settings and garish decorations," she replied sarcastically.

He opened the car door for her to get in before going around to the driver's side. "You know, it was actually a very lovely wedding. Just a bit much."

Jean nodded. "As with most things the Tynemans do."

"Quite right," he agreed. "Still, I hope they're happy. The guests seemed to be enjoying. I am sorry I didn't ask you to dance, but I assumed you'd want to leave."

"Yes, thank you. We can have more fun without all of those people," Jean said. She turned to him and smirked. "Besides, I don't know if I trust you to dance with me in public."

"I'm a wonderful dancer!" he protested.

"You are. But you can't seem to keep your hands to yourself," she replied knowingly.

He leaned over to her and murmured, "Yes, but you like when my hands are all over you."

Jean flushed bright pink, thinking back to the last time they'd danced together in their living room. Things had gone much further than just dancing. And she'd loved every second of it. Every touch, every kiss, every caress. "Which is why we shouldn't dance together in public until we're married and you've gotten everything out of your system."

"I will never get you out of my system, Jean. It's terminal, I'm afraid. I'll love and desire you until it kills me," he proclaimed melodramatically.

She laughed and scooted over on the seat to kiss him sweetly. Her intention was just a soft kiss and then they'd drive home. But Lucien had other plans. He usually did. His hand moved to her cheek, keeping her anchored to him as he deepened the kiss.

Jean moaned into his mouth. Rationally, she knew they shouldn't be kissing passionately in the parking lot outside Edward Tyneman's wedding, as though they were a pair of teenagers who couldn't control themselves. But they really couldn't control themselves. As the wedding got closer, Jean had all but given up all of her propriety and morals and self-restraint when it came to Lucien. Thank goodness he tried to respect her modesty, because Jean knew she wouldn't bat him away if his hand went up her skirt or if carried her to the bedroom weeks before they were married.

Contrary to how this would have gone if they were on the sofa at home, Lucien did not lean into Jean, causing her to lie down with him on top of her. No, this time he leaned back, pulling her with him. She ended up falling onto him. It was a strange sensation, lying on him like this. His strong, broad chest was beneath her. Jean shifted herself. Her breasts rubbed against him, and Lucien groaned, his grip on her waist tightening.

She just couldn't stop kissing him. The coarseness of his beard and the suppleness of his lips. His tongue hot and wet. His fingers playing her ribs like her body was his personal piano.

A sharp knock on the window caused Jean to scramble off him with a yelp.

"I will arrest you for indecency."

Lucien sat up slowly and growled in annoyance, looking out the car window to Matthew. "I will evict you!"

Matthew just laughed and walked away.

"I guess we'll go home," Lucien grumbled.

Jean reached over to wipe her lipstick off his face. "Well, at least we know Matthew isn't at the house. And Charlie is on duty, isn't he?"

Lucien brightened considerably. "Quite right!"

He gunned the motor, driving home as fast as he could. Only the sound of Jean's giddy laughter could be heard over the roar of the engine.