Slowly, Luc began to push inside her. He stopped, retreated, eased in again—a soft glide, a slow dance. As always, she burned him. Luc squeezed his eyes shut, focusing on making this tender for her, making this good.

With every inch he submerged into the scalding clasp of her body, she seared him, especially when Alyssa braced her feet on the mattress and raised her hips up to meet him.

“Luc. Yes! ”

Damn it. With two words, she nearly unraveled his self-control. She felt so good that it hurt, boiled his blood. As need rocketed, he began to sweat. Luc tried to breathe deep, re-engage his brain. But he needed her touch, needed to know that despite all that had happened today, she was still his.

Luc drew back, then thrust forward to the hilt. “You feel so perfect around me. I want to make you feel good, too.”

Alyssa didn’t reply, just pressed her mouth to his for a slow, blistering kiss. He tasted her need, her healing. As difficult as hearing about Joshua had been for him, Luc would do it a thousand times over if it would ease her pain and allow her to feel closer to him.

He pulled back, her body clinging to him. Unable to resist her sweet mouth, he kissed her again, deeper, slower, in rhythm with his thrusts. Alyssa tightened her arms around his neck.

Luc swallowed as he thrust his fingers into her hair, his thumb tracing her jaw. Her eyes were closed in impending bliss and she looked beautiful.

“Alyssa,” his whispered, his voice husky.

Slowly, her eyes fluttered open, revealing dilated pupils, and she met his stare. Satisfaction hummed inside him. Now he knew that she was utterly aware of who was deep inside her.

His heart jumped as he drove home in one smooth stroke. She gasped, tightening her slick walls around him.

“Thank you for trusting me with your story,” he whispered. “Your body.”

Alyssa nodded, her gaze never wavering as tears filled her eyes. Her trust and the exquisite feel of her were denting his self-control. He had to find the will, make this about healing her, not about stroking his possessive instinct. Frightening her was the last thing he wanted.

Lowering his hands to her hips, he tilted her toward him and eased into her again. Pleasure transformed her expression. Her mouth gaped open, eyes going wide.

“Come for me.”

“Y-yes.”

The catch in her voice drove him deeper inside her. He drowned in her blue eyes and dark lashes. He didn’t blink; he didn’t want to miss a moment between them.

Suddenly, her body tightened, and she whimpered.

“Luc!” Alyssa dug her nails into his shoulders.

He held the pace steady, sweat beading across his body. Seconds later she clamped down on him and cried out, releasing. Satisfaction roared through him as she keened out her pleasure.

His pleasure spiraled nearly beyond his control as her face revealed her bliss. And trust. She trusted him to care for her. Nothing was more gorgeous or humbling.

He closed his eyes, trying to get a grip, but need shut down his brain. Grasping for self-control was a waste of time. And if he was going over, he wanted to take her with him again.

With that in mind, he plied her with one unrelenting stroke after another and began to rub her clit.

“Luc!” She could barely find her breath now. “I can’t—”

“You can. For me.”

In the next moment, she clamped down on him again, her explosion of pleasure mere moments away. And still something drove him.

“Who’s deep inside you?” he demanded.

“You are, Luc.”

“That’s right. Always.” And her body told him she was seconds from orgasm. “Who is making you come?”

“Luc!”

She bucked and screamed beneath him, and he swore he was even deeper inside her than before.

Damn, it still wasn’t enough. But his control was fraying, his body screaming for release.

As he pushed back inside her swollen sex with a steady, urgent stroke, Luc could never remember feeling closer to any woman, ever. Alyssa rose up to meet him. Her stare locked with his. Her growing pleasure and rising need killed the last of his self-control.

Sweat broke out across his back, his forehead, as he pushed his way inside her again. Then she was chanting his name and climaxing so hard, he could barely move. And clinging to him in every way possible. Luc fell deep into her as the last of his resistance gave way, and he soared into a pleasure so intense, it rattled his core, then remade him, cementing his love for her.

Slowly, their breathing recovered, and Luc wrapped her up in his arms, tangling his legs with hers. In that moment, he felt peace with her. With how far they’d come together. He only hoped that all of the difficulty was behind them.

“Feel better?” he asked softly.

She bit her lip, hesitating. “Do you wish you hadn’t married me? I mean, after everything I told you . . .”

“Don’t ever think that I’d judge you for what you had to do to survive. As much as I hate what you went through, I’m incredibly proud of who you’ve become.”

Her smile was as bright as a breaking dawn, and Luc’s heart broke all over again.

“Are you going to sell the club?” he whispered.

He hadn’t even finished asking the question when she began shaking her head. “Too many memories. Too many other people who might let the wrong things happen under its roof. I’ll turn over management to Sadie, if she wants the job. But I’m moving forward in life, hoping that the restaurant allows me a fresh start.”

It would. Luc would see to that. He had the talent, connections, and influence.

He kissed her forehead. “Close your eyes.”

She shook her head. “Not yet. Since it seems to be the night for truth, why don’t you tell me your secret?”

Chapter Seventeen

LUC couldn’t have heard her right. “What?”

“Whatever it is you’re not saying. I’ve sensed it.”

How had she known he had a secret?

He shook his head. The honesty of their moment was so real, and the truth sat on Luc’s tongue. But he stopped. First, Alyssa had endured enough today, and with the bleeding scare, the issue of the baby’s parentage and the inevitable arguments were best left for another day. Second, what would telling her that the baby couldn’t possibly be his accomplish except to tear them apart?

In the back of his head, he wondered if there was a possibility, even a remote one, that the baby could be his. She kept swearing she and Tyler weren’t lovers. Luc understood his wife now in a way he hadn’t until tonight. Alyssa wasn’t a liar. What if his “virtual impossibility” had indeed become possible?

He couldn’t know the answer to that question unless he visited his doctor and submitted to the humiliating battery of tests. Again. For her and their marriage, he would. But this miracle he didn’t dare hope for. He wanted to—desperately. But likely, it would lead only to disappointment. There was probably another explanation for her pregnancy. Maybe Peter had actually raped her when he’d attacked, and Alyssa had blocked out the trauma? Perhaps her memory of the event had been muddled by her concussion . . .

But until Luc had answers, he must avoid this dangerous chasm of a topic. He’d tell her the truth soon, when they were a bit stronger. When he could say that he didn’t mind that another man had planted his seed inside her and not want to rip the bastard’s head off.

Today wasn’t that day.

“We’ve had a big life change, sugar. Neither of us foresaw getting married, me moving here. The new show and Bonheur are added stress. The baby and your health are always huge concerns . . . If I’ve been distracted, I’m sorry.”

Alyssa gave him a doubtful stare, but let it go. “If there’s more, and you want to tell me, I want to hear it.”

Luc tightened his arms around her. “I’m fine. Sleep. I’ll be here as long as you need me.”

AS Monday became Tuesday, it was an unusually rowdy weeknight at Sexy Sirens. The holidays were often insane, and with Thanksgiving right around the corner, the weather had turned too brisk for outdoor activity—so all the rowdies had crowded under her roof. Lucky her.

“Everyone’s gone. Doors are locked,” Tyler said, peeking his head in her office.

“Thank God we managed to finish the night without a full-out brawl.”

“Copy that. Do you need me anymore? I’m beat.”

“Go ahead. Hunter is somewhere around here, obsessively checking every door and window, most likely.”

Tyler laughed. “Luc got you some real hard-core bodyguards. But Jack and Deke look downright relaxed compared to Hunter. He’s a mean motherfucker.”

She winced. “Sorry if he’s interfered with your routine. I just . . . With Luc back in L.A. taping, I know he’ll feel better if I cooperate. Probably better for me, too.”

“Probably. I can’t fault him for wanting to take care of you. I’d do the same in his shoes.”

Alyssa softened. Tyler had feelings for her, and he didn’t go to much trouble to hide them. And she felt guilty that she couldn’t have reciprocated. He was a good guy who deserved a woman who loved him madly.

“See you tomorrow,” Tyler called, then closed the door behind him.

A moment later, Hunter seemed to materialize out of thin air from a shadowed corner. She jumped in her chair, slapping a hand to her chest.

“Oh, my . . . You scared the hell out of me. How long have you been standing there?”

“Long enough to assure you that I’ve already obsessively checked the doors and windows. Twice.” Hunter never wore emotion on his face, but Alyssa thought she saw a hint of a smile. “I’m touched by your buddy Tyler’s opinion. ‘Mean motherfucker’ is actually kinder than most peoples’ descriptions.”

Alyssa had no trouble believing that. “I probably need to be here another hour or so. Books are a mess. Sorry. I know it’s late.”

He shrugged. “I’m here for as long as you are.”

Yes, he’d become one of her three shadows. Between Deke, Jack, and Hunter, someone had eyes on her twenty-four/seven, at least until Luc returned on Friday night.

He hadn’t wanted to leave her and resume taping his show, but she’d insisted. This show was too important to his future. He’d finally agreed to go—if she agreed to his security detail.

“Thanks for understanding.”

Hunter drilled her with a flat stare. “I don’t, actually. If I was in Luc’s place, you’d be in a secure facility with at least double the guards. I’d never let you out of my sight.”

She raised a brow. “A tad paranoid.”

“Cautious,” he corrected

“I think I can manage a trip to the bathroom on my own.” One of the downsides of pregnancy.

“I’ll follow you.” His matter-of-fact expression told her that wasn’t up for discussion.

Alyssa sighed and swallowed a quip about his demeanor scaring women away. Just a guess, but Hunter would enjoy the verbal sparring. Or he might just look at her with that dead stare. She wasn’t in the mood for either.

The click of her heels on the concrete floors backstage echoed in the eerily silent club. She was so used to the walls thumping, the music blaring, the patrons howling. Being here alone—or mostly so—often gave her a shiver.

“You could step across the hall so I’m a little less sure you’ll hear me pee.”

Again, that ghost of a smile appeared. “I could.”

But he wouldn’t. She pitied the poor woman he fell for someday. He’d dig his teeth into her and never let go.

Rolling her eyes, she shut and locked the squeaky door, then set about her business.

Her head was filled numbers and stacks of receipts when she heard a thumping noise. As she washed her hands, sounds outside the little room were muffled. She shut off the water, and heard Hunter’s voice clearly.

“Tyler, what the . . .” Another thump, then a scuffle. “Fuck!”

Then a gunshot. Startling, deafening, heart-jolting.

Complete silence.

Shit! Someone was in her club with a gun. And he must have shot Hunter or she was sure the Navy SEAL would be busting here even now and getting her out.

Most likely, she was on her own.

Tamping down her fear, she looked around for escape. The bathroom had no windows, and if the shooter didn’t know where she was already, it wouldn’t take him long to figure it out. And she’d left her cell phone at her desk.

Stupid!

“Where are you, my temptress of sin?”

That familiar voice scraped down her senses, leaving behind disquieting fear. Primpton? With a gun?

“You may as well come out. Both of your men here are incapacitated and won’t be coming to your rescue. I haven’t killed your bouncer. Yet. I might spare him if you face me like the Jezebel you are and pay for your sins.”

He hadn’t killed Tyler but would? Did that mean Hunter was dead? Likely so, or he would have taken Primpton down. Oh, God.