The Surviving Trace

  I continue speaking. “I mean, clearly we have this… sexual tension between us.”

  “Clearly,” he remarks.

  “And we had a great, great time. But no more.”

  “Mmm-hmm,” Étienne says distractedly. He finds what he’s looking for and walks to the door.

  Pivoting, I watch him. “Are you even listening to me?”

  “Of course,” he says as he slides a skeleton key into the lock and turns it before facing me. “You’re givin’ me excuses on why we shouldn’t be together.”

  “They’re not excuses,” I rush out, though his words thrill me.

  Étienne walks toward me, an intent look in his eyes. My heart races so fast, it feels as if it’s going to jump out of my chest.

  This should be a pivotal moment where I stand firm, but who am I kidding? I need him like I need my next breath.

  “God, I want you.” I grab Étienne’s face and kiss him hard. Soft lips against mine instantly fill the ache that’s been building inside me since the minute I left his bed. I groan and press my body into his. I curl my hands around the back of his neck, jerking him closer. Deepening the kiss, I move my tongue against his. The heat coming from his powerful frame makes me kiss him harder; I can’t seem to get enough.

  He groans and curls his hands around my thighs. Instinctively, my legs wrap around his waist. With his jacket already off, I make record time unbuttoning his shirt. Étienne works the long row of buttons of my dress, and almost immediately, I feel the material pull away from my skin.

  I tug his tie up and over his head. Our hands collide as we move clothing aside to feel each other’s body.

  His hands slip beneath the sagging material of my dress, touching my stomach. His fingers dig into my hips. Without breaking the kiss, he lifts me and walks us toward his desk, where he places me on the very edge. He jerks my legs apart and moves between them.

  “I can’t stop thinkin’ about you,” he says between kisses.

  “That’s a bad thing?”

  “It’s terrible,” he rasps. “I have things to do, yet I see you wherever I go. I smell you on my clothes.”

  His words hold me captive. I don’t care that the sleeves of my dress sag around my arms. Or that the hem is bunched around my waist, revealing the garters holding my silk stockings in place. I place my hands on the desk and tilt my head back, meeting his gaze.

  My black bra is revealed to Étienne’s hungry eyes and he moans, his thumbs brushing against the upper slopes of my breast. Minutes ago, he was anxious to bare my skin and now that I’m exposed for him to touch, he’s taking his sweet time, staring at my bra as if it’s a piece of art.

  “Did I mention last night how much I love this?” he asks.

  “Not really, but I got the feeling you did.”

  The wait is driving me crazy, so I unhook the front clasp. Before cool air can touch my bare skin, Étienne’s hands are on me. My skin breaks out in goose bumps when his thumbs brush my nipples. When he rolls them between his fingers, my back arches.

  Étienne looks me up and down, a feral gleam in his eyes. He exhales loudly before his body sags, and his forehead touches mine. “Tell me how I can get you out of my system.”

  “The second I find the answer, I’ll let you know,” I pant.

  And I mean it. Every day that I stay here, my heart remains at risk. I know it’s wrong to become comfortable in a life that’s not my own. To want someone who will never—and never can—be mine.

  But I don’t want to think about that right now. I curl my fingers around his jaw, lean in, and lick his bottom lip before I gently bite it. He tilts his head to the side as I stroke my tongue against his. He tugs the sleeves of my dress and straps of my bra down my arms, and I lift my hands away from his body long enough for him to free my arms. The material pools around my waist. I lay my palms flat on the desk and tilt back my head. Étienne leans into me. Our bare skin touches and he groans.

  While my hands run over his chest and across his six-pack, his hands move between us, cupping my breasts.

  “I want more,” he whispers.

  “What do you want?”

  Étienne swallows loudly and gently tugs on my nipples, eliciting another gasp from me. “I want these in my mouth.”

  I nod anxiously. I couldn’t form a coherent thought at this point even if I was paid to.

  Étienne bends his head. He’s been teasing my breasts for minutes, making them tender. When his tongue draws a circle around my areola, I moan in relief. He switches to the other side. My hands go to grip the edge of the desk, but I miss and slip back, taking Étienne with me. My elbows save my fall, but I end up lying on his perfectly organized desk. Everything’s now scattered across the floor.

  “Sorry,” I pant.

  Étienne’s arms bracket me. His nose brushes against mine. “Doesn’t matter.”

  With his palms flat on the surface, he looms over me. He flicks the tip of my nipple with his tongue. Over and over. His eyes meet mine as he finally he pulls the nipple into his mouth. The whole time, he fondles the other breast. Gently, he bites my nipple, sending jolts of pleasure through me before he switches to the other breast. The whole time, my hands are laced through his hair, holding onto him for dear life.

  Étienne licks and sucks at my breasts for so long, I forget people can hear us and I shout his name.

  When he pulls back, he’s panting. I glance down at my chest and see the tips of my swollen breasts are covered in a glossy sheen. My breath is stuck in my throat, my body won’t stop shaking, and we’ve barely begun.

  “Turn around,” he commands.

  “So you can touch me but I can’t?” I ask.

  “No, I-I didn’t mean that. I just need you… now.”

  “I need you too.” I curl my index fingers into the hem of his pants and tug him closer. Étienne doesn’t object as I work the buttons.

  With my eyes on his, I wrap my hand around him. I touch him as he touched me—urgently, yet with barely restrained patience. Up and down, I move my hand. My heart is pounding, but I make sure to keep my pace slow and even. When I increase my grip, Étienne groans, panting against my neck. He presses his lips against my neck and sucks gently. My thumb brushes across the head, and I feel moisture on my fingers. My lips kick up into the smallest smirk because I know he’s so close to losing control.

  “Enough, enough.” He pushes away and stares at me in a half-daze. “Turn around.” Once again, he speaks with a commanding voice, but there’s an underlining sense of urgency and desperation.

  Any other time, I’d tell him to change his tone and say please. But I’ve already pushed him to his limits. I hop off the desk and turn around. My bare stomach touches the cold desk, making me jolt. But the feeling’s there and gone within seconds because Étienne’s hovers over me, his chest to my back. He nudges my legs apart with his knee. I rise on my tiptoes so my ass aligns perfectly with his lower stomach.

  There’s only the sound of our harsh breathing, then I feel him. His dick moves against my slit once, twice, before he pushes inside me. In this position, he fills me completely, making a moan slip from my lips.

  His hands move to my waist as he moves in and out. His tempo starts out slow, almost teasing, but the speed quickens, and I find myself holding onto the desk to push against him.

  “Faster,” I say.

  He complies and surges even deeper, his pace quickening until all I hear is the slap of our skin. I’m so close to release, I can feel it all the way down to my toes. Just one more push and—

  Someone knocks on the door. My shoulders tense. I lift my head and stare at the door in horror.

  “Go!” Étienne barks.

  “Do you know where Serene is?” Nat asks.

  Étienne rests his forehead against my shoulder. I swivel my hips, eliciting a groan from Étienne. When I look over my shoulder at him, his eyes are practically glazed over with want. He’s doing everything in his power right now not to come.

  H
e bends close, his skin damp with sweat. “Stop.”

  “Étienne?” Nat asks louder.

  “No, I don’t know where she is. Now go!”

  Étienne doesn’t wait for the tell-tale sound of her footsteps before he pumps into me furiously. Any thoughts other than this moment fly out of my mind. His grip on my waist becomes almost painful. I don’t mind though, because the faster he moves, the farther he sinks into me.

  I lift my head. Across from us is the fireplace, a large mirror hanging above it. I can’t see myself, but I have a clear view of Étienne from the waist up. Hair wild, sweat beading on his temple, brows forming a tight V while his mouth is open. Shirt unbuttoned, revealing his sculpted chest.

  How I once didn’t find him gorgeous, I’ll never know.

  His eyes meet mine in the mirror. I’m so close to losing control. He knows it too, and he guides himself in and out with deliberate slowness. He swivels his hips, and my eyes shut.

  “No,” Étienne half-growls. His right hand curls around my stomach, pressing me closer to him. “You were watchin’. Don’t stop now.”

  I watch as Étienne’s eyes close. His mouth forms a perfect O as his body spasms uncontrollably. Resting my forehead against the desk, I do my best not to scream his name. My name slips from Étienne’s lips in a feral groan that makes my lips curl up into a lazy smile.

  He slumps against me as my body shakes from one the powerful orgasms I’ve ever had.

  It takes a few seconds for me to drift back down to reality and when I do, my body is relaxed and I feel almost euphoric. Before I can suck in a deep breath and tell Étienne how amazing that was, he spins me around and presses me against the wall, shielding me from the room.

  Suddenly the door opens. “Étienne, Nat said she had to talk to—”

  I peek over Étienne’s shoulder and see Livingston standing frozen in the middle of the doorway. He can’t see me, but without a doubt, he knows what we’ve been doing.

  “Uhh… wrong room,” Livingston announces loudly before he quickly closes the door behind him. In the hall, he tells Nat I wasn’t in Étienne’s office and that Étienne is busy.

  I slump against Étienne and groan. “That wasn’t embarrassing at all. How did he even get in?”

  Étienne wraps his arms around me and rests his chin on the crown of my head. “I gave him a key. Which I’m now regrettin’. Could have been worse, I suppose.”

  I lift my head and stare at him. “How so?”

  Étienne shrugs with a weary smile. “Livingston could’ve walked in on us durin’ sex.”

  He steps away, buttoning up his pants and fixing his shirt. I adjust my clothes as best as possible, although it’s futile. My hair is mussed in a way that screams, “Hey! I just had the best fuck of my life!”

  I drop into Étienne’s chair. “I’m not going to be able to look your brother in the eye for weeks.”

  Chuckling softly, Étienne leans against his desk, crossing his legs at the ankle. “He gave us a hard time this mornin’, but I promise he’s a good sport.”

  “One can hope,” I murmur as I sit back in the chair.

  Étienne’s gaze lingers on my face. After sex, his features soften, making him seem younger. Boyish. I love seeing him this at ease. It needs to happen more often.

  He gives me a secret smile. “I want to do it again.” His voice is so quiet, I almost don’t hear him.

  I swallow. “I don’t know if that’s the best idea.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because I’m engaged to someone else!”

  “It doesn’t matter. You are my wife,” he whispers.

  I exhaled a shaky breath. “In this life, but not my own.”

  His face falls, then he turns abruptly and walks over to windows.

  I feel awful. If I could take back what I said, I would. If I’m honest with myself, I’ll admit that I want to be his wife.

  But I’m engaged to someone else. Someone I’m supposed to love. But do I?

  My time with Étienne is making me realize that everything I thought about love—the bliss, the perfect contentment—is false.

  Love is hoarse cries. It’s anger. It’s sadness.

  It’s happiness and laughter.

  It’s everything wrapped into one.

  Love is one of the heaviest of words to exist.

  It’s a miracle anyone survives it.

  It’ll be a wonder if I survive it.

  Étienne pushes away from the window and makes his way back to me. He wordlessly turns me around and buttons up my dress with deft fingers. When he’s finished, his large hands move to my shoulders for a second before they band around my stomach. He presses me back against his body. I put up no struggle and fall against him.

  “If you were given the choice to stay here or go back, what would you choose?” he asks.

  “Don’t make me choose,” I plead.

  “I need to know.”

  I turn in his embrace and face him. “Why?”

  His hands curl tightly around my shoulders. “Because every day you stay here, the further I fall for you.”

  With my eyes on his and my heart pounding, I say, “I’d stay here.”

  His brows are slanted low as he searches my face. “I love you,” he says abruptly and sternly, as though the words are too hard to say.

  It’s the angriest “I love you” in the history of I love yous. But I understand. Here’s a man who views emotions as a weakness, and in his life, being weak is never an option.

  He brushes his thumbs against my cheeks. “I love you, and I don’t know how to share you with another man, and I don’t want to learn.”

  For once in my life, I’m speechless. My mouth opens, but no words come out. I may look calm and composed, but on the inside, I’m a riot of emotions. His declaration thrills me and makes my heart practically sing.

  Étienne Lacroix loves me.

  He. Loves. Me.

  And I feel the same. I think I’ve known for a while how I feel, but I’ve been in denial about it. But I do. I love Étienne. And I know it complicates matters and this shouldn’t happen, but it’s the truth.

  Tell him how you feel, my heart chants. Tell him right now!

  I don’t though. Instead, I say with a smile, “Right now you don’t have to share me. Right now, I’m yours.”

  Étienne doesn’t smile back. He cradles my face. “It’s not enough for me, Serene. I want you to stay. Forever.”

  THAT NIGHT, I listen to Étienne’s steady breathing. In and out. In and out. The noise is so soothing, it almost lulls me to sleep. I force myself to stay awake. With wide eyes, I stare at the ceiling.

  Don’t do this.

  Don’t do this.

  Don’t do this, my heart chants.

  However, it’s imperative that I do. I couldn’t live with myself if I did nothing. The minutes tick by ever so slowly, and when I’m sure Étienne (and the rest of the house) is fast asleep, I slowly pull back the sheets and get out of bed.

  I tiptoe across the room. When I open the door, I look over my shoulder. Étienne hasn’t moved. Something tells me he’s a sound sleeper. I hesitate as multiple images of Étienne and me in the morning dance through my mind. Him shirtless and dead to the world. I tickle him and do everything in my power to wake him. Another image is the two of us waking up in each other’s arms, just like this morning. The last is the image of me with three little kids, all with mops of light brown hair. I press my index finger against my lips for them to be quiet as we approach the bed where Étienne’s sleeping form lies. I count to three, then the beautiful kids shriek and jump onto the bed, waking him. He groans, but smiles and proceeds to tickle them all. I sigh as the vision fades away.

  I have to do this.

  The hallway is dimly lit, giving me enough light to make my way to the stairs. The first floor is deathly quiet. I don’t think I’m easily spooked, but it’s so dark, my imagination takes hold and I’m almost tempted to run back upstairs. I unlock the front d
oor. Like last night, the outside is quiet and pitch black.

  I was so focused on slipping out of Étienne’s room unnoticed that I forgot to grab a pair of shoes. The ground is cool beneath my feet. Pebbles from the gravel driveway dig into my heels when I reach the outskirts of the sidewalk. I swallow a curse and tiptoe as though I’m walking on hot coals. I round the corner, and when I feel the wet grass beneath my feet, I sigh in relief. Last night, I hastily placed the ledger in the bushes before I went inside. It was pitch black, making it impossible for me to locate the exact area now. I can only guess.

  I get on my hands and knees and blindly grasp soil between the hedges. After a few seconds, my fingers graze something soft and smooth. I grab the ledger between my thumb and forefinger and drag the notebook toward me.

  “Gotcha,” I whisper victoriously.

  I brush the dirt off the front of the ledger, stand back up, and hurry toward the house. I do my best to shut the door behind me as quietly as possible. I turn the lock and head to Étienne’s office. The room is pitch black. I shuffle forward until I reach his desk.

  Clutching the ledger, I stare at his desk. I could hide this ledger and pretend I never found it. I could listen to my heart and stay here. I love the people here. I love Belgrave. It’s begun to feel like home. I could spend the rest of my life happy, content, and safe with Étienne by my side.

  But putting my needs and wants first would make me a terrible person. I have to do this. And you never know, I might be overplaying this in my head. Maybe when Étienne discovers the ledger, absolutely nothing will happen.

  With a heavy sigh, I place the ledger on his desk where there’s no possible way he can miss it. Before I leave, I spot the master key next to a pile of papers. My fingers itch to snatch it because I don’t know what tomorrow will bring and I want a piece of this era. Proof that I lived, I survived and I loved in this time. At the last second, I grab the skeleton key, placing it in my pocket, and hurry out of the room.

  I run up the stairs because I’m afraid if I hesitate, even for a second, I’ll turn back around and hide the ledger.

  What’s done is done. I should feel relieved. I did the right thing. So why is my stomach churning? A small headache builds, making me rub my temples.