Chapter 895

Rosalind hadn't anticipated Lucian would stay overnight.

The moment he left, silence swallowed the room. She reached for a lemon drop, letting the sharp citrus burst dissolve on her tongue, calming the queasiness that had been plaguing her.

Her fingers brushed lightly over her still-flat abdomen. Your father bought these for us...

She settled back against the pillows, but sleep remained elusive no matter how long she lay there.

Where had Lucian gone? Had he taken the guest room down the hall?

Curiosity got the better of her. Slipping out from under the covers, she grabbed a water glass as an excuse and padded into the hallway.

She found him almost immediately—not in any bedroom, but sprawled across the living room sofa.

The couch was spacious, but his six-foot-three frame made it look almost comically small. One long leg dangled off the edge, and only a thin throw blanket covered him. He was already asleep.

The nights were still chilly. That flimsy blanket wouldn't do. He'd catch a cold.

Rosalind crept back to the bedroom and pulled a thick duvet from the closet. Moving silently, she returned to Lucian's side.

She carefully lifted the thin blanket away and replaced it with the heavier quilt.

In the dim glow of the nightlight, she studied his face. This was the first proper look she'd gotten since his injuries had healed.

Time had sharpened his features—the cold, arrogant boy from three years ago had matured into a devastatingly handsome man. More striking than ever.

Her breath caught. Before she could stop herself, her fingers grazed his cheek.

A featherlight touch.

Then—

Strong fingers clamped around her wrist, yanking her down with startling force.

Rosalind gasped as she tumbled against him, her body flush against his chest. "Lucian—mmph!"

His mouth crashed into hers.

Her lashes fluttered wildly. That familiar scent—clean, masculine, him—wrapped around her as his kiss deepened, urgent and demanding.

He kissed like a man starved.

His tongue swept past her lips, claiming, devouring. Rosalind melted into the onslaught, her fingers tangling in his hair without conscious thought—whether to pull him closer or push him away, she didn't know.

Then he moved.

In one fluid motion, Lucian rolled them over, pinning her beneath him. His scorching mouth left hers, trailing down her throat, lower—

Her thin nightgown provided no barrier. His lips burned a path along her collarbone, lower still—

Her fingers tightened in his hair. "Lucian... Ah!"

He wedged a knee between her thighs, parting them effortlessly. One hand dropped to his waist, loosening his belt—

Everything happened too fast.

Reality slammed back into her. Rosalind shoved against his chest. "Do you even know who I am?"

Lucian silenced her with another searing kiss.

She bit down—hard.

He hissed, pulling back slightly. But instead of releasing her, he buried his face in the crook of her neck, his breathing ragged.