Grievous (Wanted Men #5) - Nancy Haviland Page 0,75

might be crossing a line. I had kind of hoped we’d gotten past the chattel thing, especially because we already more or less agreed this was only a temporary fling. Right? And, seriously, you can’t threaten me, Lucian. Why do you think that’s okay?”

He disregarded most of what she said and was glad her uncertainty left the door open a crack. He didn’t hesitate to storm through it. He would get his way; he would bring her to heel, and keep her there by targeting her greatest weakness. In the process, he would smash that fucking idea of temporary to little bits. He would have her until he was through with her, and there was nothing she could do to change that.

“I have never in my life collared a woman. I have never wanted to. The very thought was laughable; the practice somewhat abhorrent to me. Who would voluntarily keep a needy, demanding female underfoot in such a way?” He came down to rest his elbows on his knees. When their faces were level, he brought in the gentle touch of a lover by brushing his fingertips down her cheek. “And then you come along, and suddenly I understand the urge to capture and keep. I understand wanting someone enough to do whatever possible to let them and everyone else know they are no longer available. I apologize if my methods are not socially acceptable, but I will not apologize for wanting you desperately enough to cage you. For wanting you by my side.” He frowned at the truth in that but still forced a helpless shrug, continuing to lure her. “For…wanting you.”

Success. Her face softened in that way a woman’s did when she was moved. “Oh, Lucian.”

His demons sat back with smug smiles when they saw the stars enter her eyes. It was odd how they seemed more intent on keeping his pet in check lately than wanting to race back to New York to get their claws into the Russian who should be front and center in their minds.

“Can we make a deal?”

No. “I am listening.”

“I’ll wear your jewelry if it makes you happy. If you try to think of this in a different way. A little less me-Tarzan-you-Jane. Actually, you’re much worse than that. More me-master-you-slave. Anyway, can you do that? Can you at least try?”

A hum of electricity ran across his nerves at the thought of her as his slave, and he hooked his pinkie into the choker to pull her mouth up to his. He didn’t agree to her deal, didn’t acknowledge it at all.

But he did try not to let her feel his smile as she returned his kiss.

♦ ♦ ♦

Wondering if she’d lost her mind, Yasmeen felt herself slip a little deeper into the role Lucian was creating for her. He was slowly introducing new things, allowing her time to accept one dynamic before bring in another. His method was working.

Satisfaction beat through her when the tension left his face, the grooves on the sides of his mouth relaxing. All because she’d agreed to wear a beautiful necklace from Tiffany’s. He wanted her to wear it. It would please him. She wanted to please him. She wanted to make him happy. To do something for him the way he’d done something for her today. This was much more complicated than popcorn and a movie, but that didn’t faze her. It should have. But it didn’t.

After one more lingering kiss, he turned her around and seated her on the floor between his knees.

“Tell me about your painting,” he suggested again.

A small smile formed. He was truly curious. About her. “I normally don’t talk to people about it. I’ve certainly never shown anyone my work.” She fingered the collar, playing with the small tag…wait…what was that? She rubbed her thumb on a dangling circle hidden beneath it.

Was that a ring?

“Why, draga?” He took her hands and kissed her knuckles before placing them in her lap. His palms came to rest on her shoulders.

“Uh, because then they’d know a very private part of me and they would judge me.” Did he plan on attaching a lead to that ring? A leash? Would he control her with it? Her pulse kicked into a trot.

“And? I sense there is more.”

She cleared her throat. “Yeah, uh, I just don’t have what it takes to show someone a product I’ve poured my heart and soul into just to have them turn their nose up at it. Or worse, cut it