But what a wonderful way to go...
Emotion—love...?—swelled in Thia’s chest as she looked down at the man sprawled beneath her on the bed. Lucien really was the most gorgeous, sexy man she had ever met—breathtakingly handsome, elegantly muscled and loose-limbed. And he was all hers.
For the moment, that taunting little voice whispered again inside her head.
This moment was all that mattered. Because it was all there was for her and Lucien. They had no tomorrow. No future. Just here and now.
And she wanted it. Wanted Lucien.
She held that silver gaze with her own and eased up on her knees before reaching down between them, fingers light, as she guided his sheathed length to the slickness of her channel—only to freeze in place as she suddenly heard the unexpected sound of Mozart’s Requiem playing!
‘It’s my mobile,’ Lucien explained impatiently when he saw Cyn’s dazed expression. ‘Damn, it!’ His hands slapped down forcefully onto the mattress beside him. He should have turned the damn thing off before making love with Cyn. Should have—
‘You need to answer it, Lucien.’ A frown marred Cyn’s brow. ‘It must be something important for someone to call again so quickly—and on your mobile this time.’
Nothing was more important at this moment than his need to make love with Cyn. Nothing!
‘Lucien...?’ she prompted huskily as his damned mobile just kept on playing Mozart’s Requiem.
Which, in the circumstances, was very apt...
Talk about killing the moment! One interruption was bad enough. Lucien had managed to save the situation the first time, but he doubted he would be able to do so a second time.
A sentiment Cyn obviously echoed as she slid off and away from him, over to the side of the bed, before bending down to pick up the black silk robe from the floor. Her back was long and slender, ivory skin gleaming pale and oh-so-beautiful in the glow of the lamp, before she slipped her arms into the robe, pulling it about herself and then standing up to fasten the belt. She turned to face him.
‘You have to answer the call, Lucien.’ Her gaze remained firmly fixed on his face rather than lower, where he was still hard and wanting.
Oh, yes, there was no doubting he had to answer the call—and whoever was on the other end of it was going to feel the full force of his displeasure!
He slid to the side of the bed before reaching for his denims and taking his mobile out of the pocket to take the call. ‘Steele,’ he rasped harshly.
Thia winced at the coldness of Lucien’s voice, feeling sorry for whoever was on the other end of that line. At the same time she couldn’t help but admire the play of muscles across the broad width of Lucien’s shoulders and back beneath that bronzed skin as he sat on the other side of the bed, his black hair rakishly tousled from her fingers earlier.
Earlier...
Her cheeks warmed as she thought of those earlier intimacies. Lucien’s hands, lips and tongue caressing her, touching her everywhere. Giving pleasure wherever they touched. Taking her to climax again and again.
Her legs trembled just at remembering that pleasure—
‘I’ll be down in five minutes,’ Lucien grated harshly, before abruptly ending the call and standing up decisively to cross the room and collect up the clothes he had taken off earlier, his eyes cold, his expression grimly discouraging.
Thia looked at him dazedly. He seemed almost unaware of her presence. ‘Lucien...?’
He was scowling darkly as he turned to look at her. ‘That was Dex,’ he bit out economically. ‘It appears that your ex-boyfriend is downstairs in Reception and he’s been making a damned exhibition of himself!’
She gasped. ‘Jonathan?’
Lucien nodded sharply. ‘Unless you have any other ex-boyfriends in New York?’
She gave a pained wince at the harsh anger she heard in his tone. Misdirected anger, in her opinion. ‘I told you—Jonathan was never my boyfriend. And isn’t it more likely he’s making an exhibition of himself in your hotel because you fired him from Network this morning?’
* * *
It was a valid, reasoned argument, Lucien acknowledged impatiently—but at the same time he knew he was just too tense at the moment to be reasoned with. Even by Cyn.
He had enjoyed this evening with her more than he had enjoyed being with a woman for a very long time—if ever. Not just making love to her, but cooking dinner with her, talking freely about everything and nothing, when usually he was careful of how much he revealed about himself to the women he was involved with—a self-defence reflex that simply hadn’t existed with Cyn from the beginning.
And now this.
His mouth thinned with his displeasure. ‘I apologise for being grouchy. I just—’ He ran his hand through the dark thickness of his hair. ‘I’ll get dressed and go down and sort this situation out. I shouldn’t be long. What are you doing...?’ He frowned as Cyn turned towards the bathroom.
‘Getting dressed so that I can come with you.’
‘You aren’t coming downstairs with me.’
‘Oh, but I am,’ she assured him.
‘No—’
‘Yes,’ she bit out firmly, her hands resting on her hips as she raised challenging brows.
Lucien’s nostrils flared. ‘My hotel. My problem.’
‘Your hotel, certainly. But we don’t know yet whose problem it is,’ she insisted stubbornly.
His jaw clenched. ‘Look, Cyn, there are some things about Miller I don’t believe you’re aware of—’
‘What sort of things?’ She looked at him sharply.
‘Things,’ Lucien bit out tersely. This evening had already gone to hell in a handbasket. Cyn did not need to know about all of Jonathan Miller’s behaviour, or the reason the other man had been using her, which was sure to come out if Miller was as belligerent as Dex had said he was. ‘In the circumstances, the best thing you can do is—’
‘Please don’t tell me that the best thing I can do is to stay up here and make coffee, like a good little woman, and wait until the Mighty Hunter returns!’ Her eyes glowed deeply cobalt.
Apart from the good little woman and Mighty Hunter crack, that was exactly what Lucien had been about to say. ‘Well...maybe you could forget the coffee,’ he said dryly.
‘And maybe I can forget the whole scenario—because it isn’t going to happen!’ She thrust her hands into the pockets of his silk robe.
Lucien noted that it was far too big for her; it was wrapped about her almost twice, with the sleeves turned up to the slenderness of her wrists, and the length reached down to her calves—altogether making her look like a little girl trying to play grown-up.
‘Dex has managed to take Miller to a secure room for the moment, but it could get nasty, Cyn.’
‘I’ve been a waitress for six years; believe me, I know how to deal with nasty,’ she assured him dryly.
Lucien was starting to notice that Cyn seemed to use the waitress angle as a defence mechanism. As if in constant reminder to herself, and more probably Lucien, of who and what she was...
Who