Grievous (Wanted Men #5) - Nancy Haviland Page 0,39

He brought her to the table that had eight chairs surrounding it. Her stomach rumbled quietly when the smell of the food hit her nostrils. He turned one of the chairs sideways. “Sit.”

Did he have to act as if they barely knew each other? She looked at him, hoping he might meet her eyes so she could at least pretend he felt connected to her. He didn’t even give her that.

She sat and watched as he pulled another chair out. He snugged up until their knees almost touched. Then he went sexy man and spread his legs so they surrounded—trapped—hers. She would like to have felt comfortable enough to run her hands up and down his thighs, but no. He was once more wearing black dress pants and a black shirt that had to have been created for his body alone. As usual, he smelled like heaven.

“Would you prefer eggs or oatmeal?”

“I’d prefer the Starbucks on the corner of College Point and Roosevelt. The guy behind the counter knows me only as a regular customer and he’s usually friendlier than you’re being right now.”

He paused in his observation of the glass-covered dishes. “The sound of your hunger reached my ears. Tell me which you would prefer.” No sign of life.

She didn’t usually eat much for breakfast, but she couldn’t deny she was hungry this morning, which was the only reason she gave in. “Eggs, please.”

With her preference voiced, instead of making and handing over a plate, he prepared a small amount of the fluffy scrambled eggs and placed it in front of himself. Was he going to eat while she watched? Tease her? Could he be so cruel? And insane?

He picked up a fork that appeared to weight five pounds and speared the eggs. Then he scooted his chair even closer to hers and brought the food over to hold it in front of her mouth.

She pulled her head back. “What are you doing?” she asked suspiciously.

“Feeding my pet.”

She felt her lips flatten. Were they starting that already? “Lucian…”

“Shh. You did not stir last night even when I brought you to bed. I was pleased. Do not ruin that by causing a fuss. Open. Allow me to take care of you.”

“Take care of me? I’m sorry, but why would you want to take care of someone you don’t like?”

He raised a brow and swept a low-lidded look down her body.

“Being attracted to and liking someone is two different things. If you liked or respected me at all, we wouldn’t be here. I wish I’d gotten to know you better the last time we were together; then maybe I’d be able to recognize if this behavior is out of character for you. Or are you just a natural dic—tator?” She flashed a quick smile.

“Open, draga.”

Wow. The man was a pro at evasion. Did he really think if they didn’t discuss it, his cold shoulder didn’t exist? “What does that mean?”

He put the fork down and slid his chair back a little. “Do you recall me telling you how much I dislike having to repeat myself?”

“Yes.”

“Good, then there will be no need for me to explain why I am putting you over my lap.” He took her hand and drew her up. She resisted when he pulled her in.

A treacherous rush of excitement billowed from her core. “Over your lap? You mean you want me to sit on your lap.”

“No.”

Oh, God.

“The longer you make me wait, the higher the tally. You are currently at next to nothing, but I count by threes.”

For some insane reason, she paused only a moment longer. When he pulled on her fingers, she didn’t protest, and he easily draped her over his legs. Good fucking morning, she thought as she squeezed her eyes shut and waited to experience something she’d wondered about for years. She fought a shiver when he flattened his palm and dragged it and her nightgown up over her ass. His work area was totally exposed.

Why was she allowing this? She should be protesting. Vehemently. Freaking out.

“Your breathing is labored, pet. Are you frightened about receiving punishment?”

She gripped his pant leg and shook her head as she anticipated, her body letting her know she wasn’t anywhere near repulsed by what was about to happen. Her mind, on the other hand, was hiding, mortified over her easy, almost eager acceptance.

“Are you comfortable? If not, you may adjust your position.”

So that she was straddling him? Preferably with his pants open. She doubted it. It took only