Because We Belong (Because You Are Mine #3)(40)
Until she’d finally risen in desperation and sought him out.
He’d been right.
It was strange to feel so awake on that bright December day, her nerves tingling with awareness . . . so good, and yet so terrible at once. Quenching her desire had been what she needed to rest, and he’d known that. Some part of her must have known it, too.
She closed her eyes as she stood before the bathroom mirror, overwhelmed by a potent paradoxical sense of shame and arousal at recalling what had occurred in the sitting room. Never in a million years would she have thought she could be so bold . . . so desperate. The memory of what she’d done under the cloak of night felt like the recollection from another person’s brain had been magically inserted to her own, all the details excruciatingly vivid, but also foreign somehow.
He’d left her. He’d offered no explanation as to why (not that she’d allowed him to give a reason) and practically the moment he returned, she had sought him out and let her * rule the day.
No. You let his cock rule.
Yet another reason it was difficult to meet her own gaze in the mirror as she got ready. Shame, anger, and longing were an unbearable brew.
She showered and dressed in jeans, boots, and a warm sweater and smoothed her hair into a ponytail. She left the suite a moment later, carrying her sketchpad, pencils, her coat, hat, and gloves in her arms.
They all were in the sitting room when she arrived—Lucien, Elise, Anne, James, Gerard . . .
Ian.
The mood in the cozy sitting room was very casual and easygoing, everyone looking pleasantly lazy after the late-night festivities. She’d interrupted Elise in the process of animatedly describing a funny scene from a comedy that was currently popular. Her friend was curled up in the corner of the couch, her knees resting casually on Lucien’s thighs. She envied Elise’s ease in such splendid surroundings, a natural consequence of her upbringing, an innate confidence Francesca herself could never hope to achieve.
“Good morning,” Francesca said to everyone. “I apologize for being down so late.”
“Nonsense, we all slept in,” Anne assured. “But you look rosy this morning. You must have slept well. I’m glad to see it.”
She was determined not to meet Ian’s stare at Anne’s incendiary words, even though she felt his gaze on her heated cheeks. She couldn’t help but notice from her peripheral vision that he was dressed much like her. Her heart used to do a leap on the rare occasions when she saw him in jeans, knowing it probably meant he wanted them to go motorcycle riding together. He really did become a different man on the open road. She loved seeing his wind-whipped hair, his relaxation palpable in comparison to his typical rigid control, his full-out smile . . . the vision of him laughing without restraint. Even though she lectured herself not to look, she couldn’t seem to stop herself from glancing furtively at his long, muscular jean-clad thighs and narrow hips as James pulled up a chair for her and Anne went to pour her a cup of coffee from the service arranged on the sideboard.
“You weren’t planning on starting work on the painting today, were you?” Anne asked as she approached, noticing the sketchbook and coat she’d placed on the floor next to her chair. “But I was hoping you’d relax before beginning on that, take a little vacation. Why don’t you get started after the New Year? I’m having the canvas and your supplies delivered on the thirtieth. We’re all determined to be lazy today, after last night. We’re thinking about taking in a movie in town,” Anne said, handing her a china cup filled with coffee and cream. Francesca took a sip of the hot brew.
For some reason, irritation was rising in her at the idea of them all being so casual and accepting of Ian’s unexpected return . . .
. . . of his prolonged, unexplained absence.
He could do murder and his friends and family would rush to see to his every comfort.
You certainly were eager enough to see to his every comfort last night, you hypocrite.
“Vacation?” she asked, her light tone disguising not only her chaotic thoughts, but her anger. “Does that mean we’re all off the hook then?”
“Off the hook?” Anne asked uncertainly as she returned to her seat next to James.
“Has Ian let us all off the hook?” she clarified, her anger making it possible to stare directly at Ian as she took another sip of coffee. “Are you planning on returning to run Noble Enterprises, now that you’re back?”
She could tell by the stunned silence that no one else had yet dared to ask him the question. Ian returned her stare calmly before replying.
“I haven’t decided yet. Lin has kept me generally apprised of what’s been going on, and Lucien and Gerard filled me in on the details of the Tyake acquisition last night.”
“I do hope you’re pleased with our efforts,” Francesca said.
He didn’t blink at her quiet sarcasm. “I am. You’ve all arranged things almost as precisely as I would have. Everything is in place for the plan to move forward in the New Year. I was waiting until a moment when I could thank you all more formally, but Francesca’s right. You all deserve my gratitude now . . . as well as my apologies for leaving you in such a fix. I can’t thank you all enough, for all you’ve done on the Tyake acquisition,” he said, glancing at each of them in turn. His quiet sincerity left her feeling even more agitated.