Jean and Lucien wished Matthew a goodnight and cleared away the last of the remaining dinner dishes. These little moments of domesticity-Jean washing, Lucien drying and putting away-were the moments they cherished most.
Tossing the towel over his shoulder, Lucien leaned against the counter, watching Jean dry her hands and push a curl behind her ear. She was breathtakingly beautiful and Lucien loved her more and more each day.
This case had reminded him how important it was to follow your heart and march to the beat of your own drum. Jean was Lucien's heart and drum and he would follow her anywhere.
Thoughts of the case reminded him of something.
"Jean, you know I never did check you for hepatitis." He took her hand in his and rubbed his thumb over her engagement ring. He hadn't been able to stop touching it all night; hadn't been able to stop looking at it on her finger.
Jean waved him off. "Oh, Lucien. I'm fine, honestly. I don't feel unwell at all."
He brought her hands to his lips and pressed a kiss to the soft skin there. "All the same, I'd feel better if I could just check on you. Come on."
He led her out of the kitchen and into his surgery, ignoring her protests that she was fine, and closed the door behind them. Grinning, Lucien turned to face his fiancée. Jean took notice of the look on his face and narrowed her eyes at him.
"Lucien, what are you up to?"
He stepped towards her, arms wrapping around her waist and lifting her up onto the exam table. Jean let out a yelp of surprise and pursed her lips at him.
"What on earth-"
He pressed a kiss to her lips to silence her. "I told you, Jean. I'm checking you for signs of hepatitis. What kind of doctor would I be if I didn't look after you?" He gently pushed at her shoulders, encouraging her to lay down on the table.
Jean sighed, indulging him and laid back. "Then my all means, doctor."
Lucien smiled. "Well, first we check for signs of fever." Jean opened her mouth, ready for a thermometer, but Lucien had other plans. Gently closing her mouth with his fingers, Lucien pressed his lips to her forehead, just above her left brow bone. He pressed a series of small, soft kisses across her forehead.
Beneath his touch, Jean's breathing hitched. "Lucien? What are you doing?"
He pulled away and cupped her face, stroking her cheek. "Well, I'm checking your temperature."
"And the thermometer wasn't good enough?"
"Nope. It's a doctors only secret. Lips are the best indicator of temperature." Ignoring Jean's eye roll, Lucien carried on. "Now the next worrisome sign of hepatitis is liver inflammation. Now, most doctors would just draw bloods and be done with it. But I prefer a more hands on approach."
His fingers brushed the hem of her blouse and he slipped a finger under the fabric, stroking the soft skin of her stomach. Lucien leaned down to press another kiss to her lips, tongue swiping gently at her bottom lip.
Pulling away, Lucien looked down at her, the playfulness suddenly gone. "Jeannie, love, is this okay? Just say the word if this is too much."
He watched Jean bite her lip and he wished, not for the first time since meeting Jean Beazley, that he was a mindreader. Jean's hands wrapped around his neck, stroking the curling hair at his nape. "It's okay, I want you to touch me. But if it becomes too much, I'll tell you."
"Promise?"
She smiled at him, still a little unsure but her desire for him overriding any shyness. "I promise."
Lucien ducked his head and pressed a kiss to her cheek, to the underside of her jaw, to the soft skin of her neck. Meanwhile, his hand resumed the soft stroking of her stomach.
Jean sighed in pleasure. There was something strangely erotic about being laid out on his exam table, Lucien leaning over her to touch her body. His hands were calloused and the drag of his skin against hers caused shivers to spread across her body.
Lucien meanwhile was busy unbuttoning the bottom three buttons of her blouse, exposing Jean's stomach to him. He looked up at her, "Still okay?"
She nodded at him, eyes dark. Heart in his throat, Lucien leaned down and pressed a kiss to her stomach. Jean groaned at his touch and sighed out, "Lucien..."
His tongue snuck out to trace the silvery stretch marks at her hips and Jean tilted her hips away from his touch. "Lucien, don't. They're.."
But Lucien was looking at her from beneath dark eyelashes, blue eyes blown black with desire. "They're beautiful, Jean. They're part of you and I love you, so I love them." Another kiss to her hip. "Still okay?"
Relaxing, Jean nodded. "Still okay." As he resumed working his mouth over her skin, Jean threaded her hands through his hair, marveling at the intimacy of the moment. She had permission-forever-to be with him this way. No more hidden feelings, no more repressed desires. They were here together, damn the people of Ballarat to hell.
Lucien's hands slipped beneath the waistband of her pants, exploring further and bringing Jean back to reality.
"Lucien, we need to stop now before we can't stop ourselves." She hated that it came out as a gasping plea and longed for the night she wouldn't have to ask him to stop but instead encourage him to keep going.
Immediately, he removed his hands from her waistband and dropped his head to her stomach, pressing one last kiss to her navel. Jean sat up and fixed her mussed hair, watching as Lucien buttoned her blouse back up.
It was strangely erotic watching Lucien redress her.
He wrapped his arms around her and tugged her close, his forehead resting on hers. They enjoyed sharing each other's breath, sharing each other's space for this one, quiet moment.
Pulling away, he cupped her face in both of his hands. Jean's breath still caught in her throat every time he looked at her this way: like he was drowning and she was his last breath.
"Soon, my love."
She smiled at him and nuzzled into his hands. "I know, I know."
"Jean?"
"Yes?"
"I did a very thorough exam of your liver when I was down there and I can say with somer certainty, you don't have hepatitis."
Jean rolled her eyes and leaned forward to press a kiss to the tip of his nose. "My hero."