Grievous (Wanted Men #5) - Nancy Haviland Page 0,71
you will.”
Unable to say a word now because she was so flabbergasted, she swallowed the appreciation making her throat ache and took one of the boxes of popcorn already prepared behind the glass door of the machine. She grabbed a Snickers and some Swedish Berries then went to sit in the front row. She had to bite her lips together when the theme song to Friends started up and the familiar group of New Yorkers flashed on the screen.
“He does have some redeeming qualities,” Sorin murmured at her back before she heard his footsteps retreat.
♦ ♦ ♦
After a five-hour marathon of Joey and Chandler and the gang, Yasmeen was fully recharged and intent on reaching the unreachable. She made her way back to their room to shower and change into a wine-colored long-sleeve dress that was too soft and comfy looking to resist.
“Okay,” she muttered as she headed out. “Let’s see if we can get some smiles out of you.”
She spent the next half hour roaming the chilly halls until she found herself nearing the theater again. She’d finally bumped into Sorin in the sitting room, and he’d said Lucian had come up to get her an hour ago.
“Huh.” The room was quiet and empty. She looked further down, and knowing it was probably vacant, but wanting a peek anyway, she went and pushed open one of the doors hiding the ballroom from view. She half expected it to make a loud creak, but it didn’t dare. Not in Mr. Fane’s castle.
She poked her head into the enormous, unlit room and saw nothing but the long, unset…
He was there. A solitary figure sitting at the head of the table, overlooking fifty empty chairs. She cleared her throat and cringed when the sound echoed. His head came up. She couldn’t see his expression from so far away, but she felt his gaze like a physical touch.
“Come.”
She rolled her eyes. “Please…?” she suggested.
Silence.
She leaned her shoulder against the doorjamb and started whistling while looking at her nails. It was a sad attempt because she couldn’t whistle. It was more just puffs of air pushing through her lips, but, whatever. It wasn’t until she shifted to press her back against the jamb as if to get comfortable, that he spoke again.
“Please, come to me, Yasmeen.”
Her body lit up like a circuit board. The man was delicious. Psychotic and annoying, and hurting too deeply for her to reach, but still delicious.
And he deserved a reward for giving in, and for this day, so she skipped to him in her slippers. He pushed the elaborately carved chair away from the table and lifted a hand, palm up.
She placed hers in it, and he got her between him and the table rather than take her into his lap as she’d been expecting. She opened her mouth and took a quiet breath to offer her thanks for bringing New York to her, but he stopped her by loosely taking hold of her hips and bringing his head down to rest on her navel.
“Just…be here in the quiet, hmm?”
A subdued Lucian was a new thing. A scary thing. Maybe she shouldn’t leave him alone so long next time. She shelved her thanks and looked down at him for a beat before stealing the opportunity to touch him as a lover would. Not a sex partner. She slid her fingers into his hair and stroked them through until she reached his nape. He’d showered at some point, too, she noted.
Her skin tingled when he went to the hem of her dress and flattened his palms on her calves. His touch was firm and possessive as he traveled back up to her waist. He didn’t expose her but allowed the folds of the dress to fall over his wrists to hide her panties. She bit her lip, wanting to talk. To ask him if there was anything she could do that might help him. She didn’t. Rather she respected his wishes and remained quiet. When she absently dropped a kiss to the top of his head, he lifted it and looked up at her. The only illumination in the room came from the moonlight slanting in through the window that made up the one wall, and, because she’d left the door open, the chandelier in the reception area cast a golden flow. But because he’d placed her between him and the door, his face was in shadows.
“I should not enjoy frightening you. I should not have enjoyed binding you. Making