This didn’t feel like hate. This felt like something much more dangerous.
“Like you want me to…” The unflappable Lucian Rollins lost his train of thought as he looked at my mouth. The rawness I saw on that gorgeous face both terrified and fascinated me.
I wondered briefly if Lina’s heart condition was contagious, because my heart seemed to be limping along like it forgot how to beat properly.
“This is a horrible idea,” I said in a near whisper.
“Worst I’ve ever had,” he agreed.
Neither of us moved. Neither of us came to our senses.
“I’m exhausted by us,” I admitted.
“I hate us,” he countered.
My fingers began to ache, and I realized I still had them locked around his tie.
His mouth hovered over mine, not quite touching. We were breathing the same air as our bodies caught fire. My head was spinning, flinging away all logic as I clung to the one thing that felt right. Him. I wanted this. I wanted him.
“Excuse me, sir.”
Lucian didn’t move. But I sure as hell did.
“It’s time to unhand the librarian. Her friends are waiting, and you have an emergency call from Boston on the line,” Petula announced briskly from somewhere behind Lucian’s broad chest.
With a yelp, I launched myself forward in a panicked attempt to slide off the desk. But instead of dismounting, I only managed to crash my crotch into Lucian’s.
I was sandwiched, suspended in the canyon of space between the edge of his desk and what could only be described as a mega erection. My legs were draped over his thighs in what would have been the perfect position for getting railed.
“Oh God,” I squeaked.
If I could feel how hard he was, did that mean he could feel how wet I was? This was knowledge neither of us needed the other to have.
Lucian’s nostrils flared, and his hands were now gripping me by the hips. Hard.
“Out,” he snapped without looking away from me.
“No,” Petula decreed. “You pay me to maintain order, not to tolerate your blatant disregard of your schedule. You do not have time to canoodle with Ms. Walton. It will have to wait.”
“Canoodle?” There was a hysterical edge to my tone, and for one fleeting moment, I thought I caught the flash of amusement on Lucian’s face, but it was gone as quickly.
“Ms. Walton was just leaving,” Lucian said coldly.
He gripped my hips with powerful fingers and placed me firmly on the floor. He gritted his teeth and took a step back. The silk of his tie, the only thing that still tethered us to each other, slid through my fingers.
Feeling petty, I grabbed the tail end of his tie and flipped it saucily over his shoulder.
“See you around, Lucifer.”
10
Annoyed and Hungry
Lucian
You seem tense,” Emry observed.
“Tense? Why would I be tense? Just because I’ve got clients to deal with, the FBI moving at a snail’s pace, an exasperating woman interrupting my schedule, a tail that smells like the Hugo crime organization. There’s no reason to be tense,” I snapped.
The city streets were always bumper to bumper in black luxury SUVs. But I’d still made the tail when I’d been alerted to Sloane’s arrival.
I hadn’t been able to deal with the security issue because I’d needed to see her. I’d been compelled to ignore the situation I could have easily dealt with because I wanted to see her in my offices. I wanted to be there when she saw what I’d built.
And then I’d gone and lost every shred of discipline. I’d forgotten the most basic of lessons. Sloane’s proximity to me brought her too close to danger. It always had.
My friend steepled his fingers over his rounded belly and waited expectantly.
I realized I hadn’t even taken a seat. I’d been pacing in front of the man’s fireplace since the minute I arrived. We were meant to be having dinner tonight. But one look at me when he opened the door and he’d shed the apron and waved me into his home office.
I brought my fingertips to my forehead. “Sorry, Emry. I’m ruining our dinner.”
It had been a long time since I’d felt this out of control. I needed to lock down my feelings to put a stop to the images that played incessantly in my head. Those green eyes at half-mast. The red lips parting.
He waved away my apology. “It’s a casserole. It’ll keep.”
“You burnt it, didn’t you?”
He grinned ruefully. “I’m surprised you didn’t notice the charcoal smell.”