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His gaze was on my legs and his hunger stirred the air. It echoed through me, warm and delicious. “An introduction? You have to be introduced and approved to be a member here?”
He nodded. “Franklin’s caters to the rich. This place caters to the überrich, as well as those who derive pleasure from watching.”
“You can watch in any of the wolf clubs. And Franklin’s has private viewing rooms.”
“Yes, but we are not talking about common sex here.”
“BDSM?” I had no problem with that in and of itself, but beyond the odd handcuff fantasy, I really wasn’t into that sort of sexual play.
He nodded. “And blood play, fetishes, fantasies—but not all at once. Every night has a different ‘theme.’”
“And the theme tonight?”
“Bondage.” His gaze pinned mine, the intensity making my heart hammer. He didn’t care where we were; he just wanted—intended—to make love to me tonight. And while I hungered for his touch, somewhere in the dark recesses unease stirred anew. Because while I was part wolf, and did have an above-average sex drive, this was definitely more than that. But no matter how uneasy I was feeling right now, it wasn’t enough to make me walk away. Not yet. He added, “But we do not have to stay. We can walk to my place, and I shall personally cook dinner for you.”
And then we shall love until you can take no more and beg for me to stop.
The thought whispered through my brain, distant and tantalizing. I wasn’t entirely sure that the thought was mine, although I wasn’t telepathic, and certainly hadn’t been able to catch his thoughts before now. But then, did I need to? The hunger in his eyes made it very evident where his thoughts were headed.
“Isn’t your place a little too far away?” I had no problem about actually walking there, but not in these heels.
A smile teased his lips. “As it so happens, I recently purchased a nearby building for investment purposes, but I’m keeping the top floor for myself. The entire place is being renovated, but I have a kitchen and bathroom in working order.”
I was betting the bedroom was in working order, too. “Why arrange to meet here, then? Why not just meet in your apartment in the first place?”
He caught my hands and raised them, palms toward him, to his lips. “Because Lauren wanted someplace public, but absolutely secure. Maxwell’s is certainly that.”
Lie, lie, lie. But the thought died abruptly as he began to place gentle kisses on each of my fingertips, then drew one into his mouth and sucked on it lightly. My breathing hitched, then became more erratic. I might have doubts about him, but there was no denying my attraction, enhanced or not.
“So,” he added eventually, “what is it to be?”
From the minute I’d walked into this room, there was only ever going to be one outcome, and we both knew it. The where was a secondary consideration. I raised an eyebrow, and a victorious grin lit his features.
“I thought as much, which is why I already have a lamb roast in the oven.”
“And everyone knows a good lamb roast is a guaranteed way of getting into any werewolf’s bed.”
“Well, that and dessert. Which is a triple-layer chocolate mousse cake.”
I laughed, then leaned over the counter and dropped a quick kiss on his lips. It left mine tingly with anticipation. “I might just forgive you if the food’s as good as it sounds.”
“Excellent. Shall we make a retreat?”
I downed the rest of the champagne, and felt its effervescence all the way down to my toes. “Let’s.”
He came around the counter and offered me his arm. I slipped mine through his, and he escorted me out of the building and across the road to his apartment. It was one of those grand old Victorians that Collins Street was famous for, and only five stories high, which meant his floor was at treetop level. The old lift rattled and shook as it swept us upward, then opened to reveal a vast room that was filled with building debris and smelled of paint and dust.
“Welcome to my palace.” He grinned as he caught my hand and guided me through the mess of dustcovers and workmen’s tools.
We walked through the remains of a wall into the kitchen area. It was very rudimentary. There was an oven, a fridge, and the bare bones of two small counters—one of which held the sink—but just about everything else had been gutted. Plates were stacked on the non-sink counter and a drawer that held cutlery sat on the floor near it. But the mouthwatering scent of roasting meat filled the air. I breathed deep, then sighed in contentment.
“God, I don’t think there’s a better scent in this world.” I crossed my arms and leaned against the free bench.
Lucian’s smile was wicked. “Oh, I can think of one or two. What would you like to drink? I have wine or champagne in the fridge.”
“Champers again, thanks.” I watched him pour the drinks, then asked, “So how did you actually find Lauren?”>“And yet here you are, wanting my help.”
“Just because I hate what you do doesn’t mean I won’t use you if I need to.”
