Grievous (Wanted Men #5) - Nancy Haviland Page 0,47
shown you sooner.”
She slapped his hands and jerked them back when he went to lower them. “Don’t you dare. Lucian, this is incredible.” What looked to be half-finished tattoos on his fingers and the backs of his knuckles, when brought together as they were now, made up a crest of some sort. “What is it?”
“Kingdom of Romania; Coat of Arms.”
Okay. His accent couldn’t have been sexier as he’d said that. “Fabulous. I would so let this guy do me. Anyone who thinks tattoo artists don’t deserve the title of artist needs to see this. I’ve looked at your hands quite a lot—I mean, at your tattoos—and could never figure out what I was missing.” She pulled his long, manly fingers apart and then linked them together again. She grinned. “I love this. It’s like a puzzle.”
“You express enjoyment like a child.”
Her smile faltered, and she went to give him his hands back, but he trapped her fingers. “That was not meant as an insult. A child shows pleasure without pretense. There is nothing pretentious about you and your love of art in any form. Your enthusiasm is refreshing, draga.”
“Oh, uh, thank you.” She dipped her toe in the let’s-be-friends pond. Appeared frigid, but one never knew. “Maybe, if you’re not busy, you can take me on a tour later and tell me about some of the paintings adorning your walls. I’ll bet you have some fascinating stories…”
He dropped her hands and moved away to take the pants off the hanger. He handed them to her. “Put them on. I have imagined your ass in riding breeches for more than twenty-four months. I want my curiosity assuaged.”
“Frigid and rude with a touch of letch. Nice.”
His dark brows lowered. “Excuse me?”
“Nothing,” she muttered as she snapped the “breeches” out of his hand and got into them. She tried not to be too disappointed. At least they’d made some headway. He’d actually been with her for a while there. She slipped on the socks and knee-high boots he handed her next. He waited while she tucked the shirt in, then walked a few steps backward and slipped his hands into his pockets.
“Turn,” he said in a low voice that had a new rasp to it. “And remain with your back to me.”
“Are you serious? Don’t you think you’re taking this a little far?”
“If I ask you to bend forward while I stroke my cock, then you can accuse me of taking this too far. Turn.”
She swung away and barely made it before a smile claimed her face. What an idiot. Would he really jerk off to the sight of her in riding gear?
“Run your hand over your ass cheek, Yasmeen. Your right hand. I want to see your rings…”
The low rumble that came from him as she slowly caressed her own ass was animalistic in nature. She gave her cheek a squeeze to make the show worth watching.
“Anything else?”
Something landed on her shoulders, and she looked back as he draped a soft wool cape around her and fastened it under her chin. It was the same midnight black as the boots and reached her calves. He turned her and brought the hood up then got out of the way so she could see her reflection in the mirror.
“Brilliant,” he murmured.
She looked at herself with a critical eye. The outfit had to have cost a thousand dollars. Her gaze went to the man who’d provided it and she wasn’t sure which was more beautiful.
“I feel…soft. I thought riding clothes would be stiff and scratchy. This is beautiful.”
He nodded. “Come. Before I change my mind and keep you under lock and key.”
As they walked, she paid attention and was pretty sure, if she needed to, she could make her way back to their room on her own without written instructions.
“Where are we going?”
“Into town.”
Really? Who knew? “Does the town have a name? Why aren’t you coming?”
“I have work to do. And Sorin will take you either to Bran or Rasnov.”
“Your work can’t wait?”
“No.”
“Can I bring something back for you?”
His step slowed and he looked down at her as if surprised by the offer. “No, thank you, pet. I will have all I need once you return to me.”
“’Kay.” She looked straight ahead as her body begged her not to take one step out the door, and worse, her heart sang like a desperate fool.
ELEVEN
Without giving her time to do much more than say hello and thank Sorin for taking the time out of his day