When I'm With You Part IV Read Free Page A

mouthed.
    He smiled and brushed a tendril of hair off her cheek. A shiver of pleasure went through her at his touch. “Then turn your face away from me and rest your cheek on the pillow. Your eyes have a way of undoing me. Try to relax. I’m going to finish restraining you.”
    Her heart began to thump uncomfortably against her breastbone as she lay there and allowed him to bind her naked body. When he got to her ankles, he flipped back the luxurious comforter and drew her legs toward each corner of the bed. It felt strange when he’d finished, to be spread-eagled, unable to move . . . vulnerable. He carefully covered her again with the sheet and comforter. By the time she felt his weight sink into the mattress next to her ribs, her breathing was coming erratically from nerves.
    He drew back the bed coverings down to the top of her buttocks, exposing her back. He stroked the muscles deeply with a big, warm hand, and she shuddered in a release of anxiety and pleasure.
    â€œThat’s right. It’s time to give up control,” he murmured. “Just relax.”
    He massaged her deeply, expertly for the next several minutes. She tried to resist, but his hands kneaded her rigid flesh into submission. Wherever did he learn the intricacies of pressure and release so well? She gasped when he swept his hand from her tailbone to her neck, applying a firm pressure. He repeated the movement, seeming to iron her anxiety and her resistance right out of her. She made a desperate noise in her throat as she tried to control an upwelling of emotion she couldn’t comprehend.
    â€œLet it go, Elise,” he ordered, digging his fingers deftly into her shoulders. “Let go, period. I’ve got you. Just relax.”
    â€œNo,” she grated out when he grasped her rib cage, holding her completely at his mercy, and worked his thumbs along her spine. She had no idea why she was protesting. His massage was heavenly. It was the fact that he was telling her to let go of control.
    â€œYes,” he said simply. He pressed his thumbs beneath her shoulder blades and maintained a relentless pressure. The air burned in her lungs. It hurt unbearably. It felt
so
good. She couldn’t hold it in any longer. What was he doing to her with those devil hands? Something snapped in her.
    She choked as emotion erupted out of her throat.
    â€œThat’s right,” she heard him say as if from a distance as he rubbed her back muscles, working the remaining tension out of her. She sunk into the mattress, gasping, every muscle in her body going limp, even though she never gave them permission to do so.
    He continued to rub her—for how long she didn’t know—occasionally murmuring to her in soothing tones, sometimes in English, sometimes in French. The torrential rush of emotion she’d experienced was unlike anything she’d ever known. She wasn’t crying from sadness or anger, but from some kind of whirlwind of unnamable feeling that felt as if it’d been living in her body, residing in muscle and flesh without her permission.
    The tears on her cheeks dried. A wave of sleepiness overwhelmed her, and her entire awareness focused on the sensation of Lucien’s magical hands. He peeled back the covers, exposing her ass and upper thighs.
    Her eyelids flew open. Tension sprang back into her muscles. His low chuckle and warm touch on her thighs reassured her anxiety, but did nothing to alleviate mounting excitement.
    â€œDon’t get worked up all over again. You did well. I’m proud of you. It’s hard to let go, when you feel like the rest of the world could turn into an enemy at any moment. You come by your vigilance honestly. But you must learn to let down your guard with me,” he chided. “Now . . . I’m going to give you a reward, something for especially sweet dreams.”
    His hand moved between her thighs, cupping her sex. Before she had a chance