AllFreeNovel
Share Us
That was a tight one. Refusal would sound inconceivably impolite. Acceptance would have her fuming and steaming for the whole night.
“Thank you but-“
“My brother is right.” The darned man interrupted with that raspy voice. “There is plenty of room for the three of us.”
Blast him!
She ogled him in such a calcining way, it was surprising she did not transform the man in ashes on the spot. In return, his murky stare strolled over her, making the combustion tumble entirely over her. Crimson tinted her skin with a blistering mixture of vexation and other things she did not want to name.
“This will be one fine evening.” Oblivious Didier came again. “Fabien, escort her, will you? I will fetch Champaign.”
Alone with him in the crowd, t
here was little else to do but place her hand on his muscled arm. And let him lead her wherever he wanted, because she completely lost her sense of direction.
“Why won’t you leave me be?” She sibilated hotly between her teeth.
That infuriatingly tempting lopsided smiled designed on his sensuous lips. “Because you do not need to spend lonely evenings, when I am right here.”
The arrogant rogue!
“I can enjoy them with whomever I choose.” She countered, only to witness his other hand come over hers tightening, his stance stonier than his castle.
“But you have not. I have not.” His tone caressed her ears. “And here we are again, going in circles.”
The worst being, he was right. If he expected her to admit it out loud, he would be waiting forever. “You are a shameless liar!” She threw at him, smiling to the people around them.
“We will talk about this later.” He commanded in his usual military way.
They reached the box, and he opened the door for her. Dimly lit, the interior displayed the maximum comfort a night at the theatre could offer in dark panels and red velvet.
Showing her the seat nearest to the balcony to her right, he sat beside her, on her left. The enclosed space suggested enough intimacy for her to feel trapped, needy, her head at war with her complacent body.
Didier returned with a footman carrying a tray with Champaign and sat on the other side of Romulus. They sipped the bubbling wine and chatted up to the time the opera began and the lights diminished. She rested her glass on a low table nearby to enjoy it.
The music and the drama on stage held the power to relax her a little. A hand sneaked over hers and took it in the dark. Her breath hitched, arrested. Red-hot lightning coursed through her and left her without reaction to push Romulus away. His long strong fingers wrapped around her gloved ones, seeping heat through the delicate fabric. She did not even try to pull it when he took it and brought to his side, thumb caressing the whole surface, rhythmic and hypnotic. Her body leaned back on her chair, pliable, hungry for more. Her only thought to get rid of that cloth barrier between their skins to feel him, embark on a skin-to-skin trip of hands holding hands. Unaccounted for, her thumb went to caress his bare fingers. They closed over one another, eager, insufficient.
Surreptitiously, his hand left her, so his fingers strolled up her gloved arm, feather light, trailing fire in its wake. To reach the top of it, where her skin bared under the dress sleeve. Utter ruination! His hot skin made hers burst in high temperature, one finger stealing inside the edge of the glove, almost pulling it down her upper arm. Her breath became fast. An impulse to pounce on him and ravish him there and then, so unbearable, that her right hand must grab the seat border to keep her still.
Her other one squeezed his thigh in a futile attempt to make him stop, to make him continue, whatever put an end to this despairing deprivation. But he did not stop. His hand came back to hers to stanch her caress on his thigh, he, too, ablaze, if his wired, short-breathed frame was anything to go by. Their hands clutched each other, fingers entwining, seeking, stroking; and thus, they remained until the end.
* * *
Romulus sat on a corner of the carriage and waited. He did not have to wait for long as it stopped in front of the theatre entrance. When the footman opened the door, Annabel came in with those lithe movements of hers. The fact that the carriage belonged to her was a mere detail.
On the seat opposite him, she had not seen him yet. As she arranged her skirts, and lifted her head, she saw him, expression going instantly incensed.
She looked outrageously beautiful in her attire that made it impossible to ignore her round breasts, flaring hips and shapely legs.
“What are you doing here?” Her perfect brows pleating and her tempting mouth curling in contrariety. The enclosed space made him too aware of her scent of flowers and woman.
A self-derisive smirk came to his face. “It is a question I asked myself just now.” In an impulse, rare of him, he sent his vehicle home and entered hers discretely while it parked further down the lane.
After their desperate touch in his box, he became so turned on, he found himself unable to go home to a cold bed.
“Leave immediately!” She demanded. “Before someone sees us.”
He snorted. “Nobody saw me; and if I go down now, they will definitely witness it.”
