I can feel the answer in her before she gives it. In the way she leans a fraction toward me instead of away. In the way her hands hover near my chest, uncertain whether to push or hold.
“Katerina.”
Her eyes lift to mine, furious and bright and helpless in exactly the way that undoes me. “You’re here to see my sister. You’re courting her for Christ’s sake.”
“I’m not,” I say truthfully. “I came here to see you. She was just an excuse.”
She starts to pant, her eyes locked on me.
“Tell me you don’t want me,” I murmur.
She swallows. “You know I can’t say that.”
That’s all I need.
I catch her face in both hands and kiss her.
My mouth takes hers hard, and she answers me instantly, hands fisting in my shirt like she hates me for giving her what she wanted.
Let her hate me.
Her mouth is soft and angry and familiar in a way that makes my whole body tighten. I kiss her deeper, and she gasps into it, arching against me before she can stop herself. I pin her there between my body and the piano, one hand sliding down to her waist, the other tangling in her hair.
She moans when I bite her lower lip. The sound goes straight to my cock.
I drag my mouth from hers and down the side of her neck. She turns her head without meaning to, giving me more skin. I take it. Kiss. Tongue. Teeth. Just enough to make her knees soften.
“This is a bad idea,” she breathes.
“You already said that once.”
“You remember everything.”
“Only what matters.”
My hand moves down her back, over the curve of her ass, then around to the front where her skirt clings to her thighs. I slide my palm up slowly until I feel the heat between her legs through the fabric.
She’s already wet.
I laugh once against her throat.
She shudders. “Don’t.”
“Don’t what?”
“Sound pleased with yourself.”
“I’m not sounding pleased.” I press my fingers harder between her thighs and feel her jolt. “I’m being pleased.”
“God, I hate you.”
“No, you don’t.”
I kiss her again before she can argue, and this time I take my time with it. I let her feel every inch of it, the slow drag of my tongue, the way I open her mouth and keep her there until she’s breathing through her nose and clutching at me like she might actually fall if I stepped back.
Then I do step back. Only enough to look at her.
Her lips are swollen. Her hair is a mess. Her chest rises too fast beneath the sweater. She looks wrecked already and I haven’t even touched her properly.
