items back.”
Her jaw dropped as the officer led her away. And, if Lysander wasn’t mistaken, there was pride in her gaze.
* * *
Arrested for shoplifting, Bianka thought with disgust. Again. Her third time that year. Lysander had watched the policeman usher her in back, empty her purse and cuff her. All without a word. His disapproval had said plenty, though.
She hadn’t let it upset her. He’d stood his ground, and she admired that. Was turned on by it. This wouldn’t be an easy victory, as she’d assumed. Besides, for the first time in their relationship, he’d offered to kiss her. Willingly kiss her.
But only if she replaced her stolen goods, she reminded herself darkly. Didn’t take a genius to figure out that he wanted to change her. To condition her to his way of life.
It was exactly what she wanted to do to him. Which meant he wanted her as desperately as she wanted him.
It also meant it was time to take this game to the next level. She, however, would not be the one to cave. The six hours she’d spent behind bars had given her time to think. To form a strategy.
She was whistling as she meandered down the station steps. Lysander had finally posted her bail, but he hadn’t hung around to speak with her. Well, he hadn’t needed to. She knew he was following her.
At home, she showered, lingering under the hot spray, soaping herself more slowly than necessary and caressing her breasts and playing between her legs. Unfortunately, he never appeared. But no matter.
Just in case her shower hadn’t gotten him in the mood, she read a few passages from her favorite romance novel. And just in case that hadn’t gotten him in the mood, she decorated her navel with her favorite dangling diamond, dressed in a skintight tank and skirt and knee-high boots, and drove to the closest strip club.
“I only have a few days left. Then I’m traveling to Budapest for Gwen’s wedding and you are not invited. Do you hear me? Try and come and I’ll make your life hell. So, if you want a go at me, now’s the time,” she said as she got out of the car.
Again, he didn’t appear.
She almost screeched in frustration. So far, her strategy sucked. What was he doing?
The night was cold yet the inside of the club was hot and stuffy, the seats packed with men. Onstage, a redhead—clearly not a natural redhead—swung around a pole. The lights were dimmed, and smoke clung to the air.
“You gonna dance, darling?” someone asked Bianka.
“Nope. Got better things to do.” She did, however, steal the stranger’s wallet, sneak a beer from the bar and settle into a table in the back corner. Alone. “Enjoy,” she whispered to Lysander, toasting him with the bottle.
“Have you no shame?” he suddenly growled from behind her.
Finally! Every muscle in her body relaxed, even as her blood heated with awareness. But she didn’t turn to face him. He would have seen the triumph in her eyes. “You have enough shame for both of us.”
He snorted. “That does not seem to be the case.”
“Really? Well, then, let’s loosen you up. Do you want a lap dance?” She held up the cash she’d taken. “I’m sure the redhead onstage would love to rub against you.”
His big hands settled on her shoulders, squeezing.
“Or maybe you’d like a beer?”
“I would indeed,” the stranger she’d stolen from said, now in front of her table. He reached into his back pocket. Frowned. “Hey, my wallet’s gone.” His gaze settled on the small brown leather case resting on her tabletop. His frown deepened. “That looks like mine.”
“How odd,” she said innocently. “So do you want me to buy you a beer or not?”
Lysander’s grip tightened. “Give him back his wallet and I’ll kiss you.”
Her breath caught in her throat. Oh, she wanted his kiss. More than she’d ever wanted anything. His lips were soft, his taste decadent. And if she allowed him to kiss her, well, she knew she could convince him to do other things.
But
Her jaw dropped as the officer led her away. And, if Lysander wasn’t mistaken, there was pride in her gaze.
* * *
Arrested for shoplifting, Bianka thought with disgust. Again. Her third time that year. Lysander had watched the policeman usher her in back, empty her purse and cuff her. All without a word. His disapproval had said plenty, though.
She hadn’t let it upset her. He’d stood his ground, and she admired that. Was turned on by it. This wouldn’t be an easy victory, as she’d assumed. Besides, for the first time in their relationship, he’d offered to kiss her. Willingly kiss her.
But only if she replaced her stolen goods, she reminded herself darkly. Didn’t take a genius to figure out that he wanted to change her. To condition her to his way of life.
It was exactly what she wanted to do to him. Which meant he wanted her as desperately as she wanted him.
It also meant it was time to take this game to the next level. She, however, would not be the one to cave. The six hours she’d spent behind bars had given her time to think. To form a strategy.
She was whistling as she meandered down the station steps. Lysander had finally posted her bail, but he hadn’t hung around to speak with her. Well, he hadn’t needed to. She knew he was following her.
At home, she showered, lingering under the hot spray, soaping herself more slowly than necessary and caressing her breasts and playing between her legs. Unfortunately, he never appeared. But no matter.
Just in case her shower hadn’t gotten him in the mood, she read a few passages from her favorite romance novel. And just in case that hadn’t gotten him in the mood, she decorated her navel with her favorite dangling diamond, dressed in a skintight tank and skirt and knee-high boots, and drove to the closest strip club.
“I only have a few days left. Then I’m traveling to Budapest for Gwen’s wedding and you are not invited. Do you hear me? Try and come and I’ll make your life hell. So, if you want a go at me, now’s the time,” she said as she got out of the car.
Again, he didn’t appear.
She almost screeched in frustration. So far, her strategy sucked. What was he doing?
The night was cold yet the inside of the club was hot and stuffy, the seats packed with men. Onstage, a redhead—clearly not a natural redhead—swung around a pole. The lights were dimmed, and smoke clung to the air.
“You gonna dance, darling?” someone asked Bianka.
“Nope. Got better things to do.” She did, however, steal the stranger’s wallet, sneak a beer from the bar and settle into a table in the back corner. Alone. “Enjoy,” she whispered to Lysander, toasting him with the bottle.
“Have you no shame?” he suddenly growled from behind her.
Finally! Every muscle in her body relaxed, even as her blood heated with awareness. But she didn’t turn to face him. He would have seen the triumph in her eyes. “You have enough shame for both of us.”
He snorted. “That does not seem to be the case.”
“Really? Well, then, let’s loosen you up. Do you want a lap dance?” She held up the cash she’d taken. “I’m sure the redhead onstage would love to rub against you.”
His big hands settled on her shoulders, squeezing.
“Or maybe you’d like a beer?”
“I would indeed,” the stranger she’d stolen from said, now in front of her table. He reached into his back pocket. Frowned. “Hey, my wallet’s gone.” His gaze settled on the small brown leather case resting on her tabletop. His frown deepened. “That looks like mine.”
“How odd,” she said innocently. “So do you want me to buy you a beer or not?”
Lysander’s grip tightened. “Give him back his wallet and I’ll kiss you.”
Her breath caught in her throat. Oh, she wanted his kiss. More than she’d ever wanted anything. His lips were soft, his taste decadent. And if she allowed him to kiss her, well, she knew she could convince him to do other things.
But
Similar Books
