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Lucien was
shocked. Shocked. Astounded. Enraged. Furious.
Embarrassed. Is that how people saw him? She was
closer than she knew on her observations of him. He was
all of those things for him to flirt was such a second
nature. He didn’t think of the women he slept with, for
they were merely a brief distraction. Servants and
nonmembers of the peerage were not worth a second
glance.
His nanny and
schoolteachers had drilled, no beaten, all that into him
from the time he was a baby with their whips and
rulers. She was right. He was a veritable jackass.
Until now he just hadn’t cared what everyone else
thought.
The anger deep
within him, that had festered, stewed, and grown since
he was a boy, boiled over at her words. His eyes
narrowed in challenge at her turned back as she put the
dinner back in the oven. “Honesty,” he sneered. His
eyes black as pitch with uncontrolled rage. “You wish me
to be honest? Very well. Let me tell you.
“I want to take you
to your bed and strip off all your clothes. I want to
run my tongue all over your body, delving into each and
every crevice to find out what you taste like. I want
to fill you with my hardness and spill myself into your
depths.” He rose and stalked her, he knew she listened
but she wouldn’t turn to face him. She stayed and faced
the window after she put the rabbit back in the oven as
his words washed over her.
“What I want is
you. You. You have bewitched me. You with your bronze
skin, golden eyes, lush lips and intoxicating scent—that
I have yet to identify—I want to take a lifetime getting
to know you and then when I am done I would wish to
begin again. You with your body that you keep covered
by male clothing yet there is nothing masculine about
you. You who don’t lose your composure. You spurn my
advances and I want to break that. I want to break you,
tame you, make you mine.”
His strong hands
gripped her shoulders as he spun her around to face
him. His voice deep and resonating. He forced her to
look at him, not physically but with the allure and
velvet heat of his voice. “I want to hear you, moaning
my name. Not Saint, not Wolf, not my lord. Just
Lucien. Lucien. I want you to call me Lucien as I come
deep within you. I want to spend days learning your
body, your likes and dislikes. I want to show you
things that I learned in my travels. I want to brand
you as mine. You will belong to me. I will have you.”
Her eyes flashed
dangerously. He quirked a brow and added, “I want you
to dream of me. I want to know that the very thought of
me makes you wet and wanting me. Is that honest enough
for you? Or would you like me to go into more explicit
detail of what I honestly want?” His hands
cupped her face, his thumbs caressed her lips as his
eyes bore deep within her soul, while they exposed to
her more than she was ready to see.
Ciara’s eyes
narrowed in response. Her heart pounded so fast and
hard, she was sure that he could hear it. She wasn’t
one of his London beauties that would swoon. Her father
had told her of men like this and so had her mother.
She composed her face into a mask of indifference she
shrugged her shoulders.
Copyright © Aliyah
Burke, 2008.
All Rights Reserved,
Midnight Showcase. |
