Page 32

Neither of us says a word. Another kiss steals the breath from my lungs, and then another. My heart pounds so hard I'm certain he can hear it. When he guides me toward the hallway, I go willingly, unable to make myself care about anything beyond the feel of him.

The cool air brushes against my skin as we move toward his bedroom, but every place he touches burns with desire. I stay close to him, and by the time we reach the doorway neither of us seems ready to let the other go.

He eases the door closed behind us, and the click of the latch seems unusually loud in the room, making my breath stumble. The bedroom is dim, lit only by the faint glow spilling in from the hallway, but I don't need the light. I've spent enough time here to know exactly where I am.

The scent of him lingers everywhere, familiar enough that it works its way beneath my skin. Before I can gather a coherent thought, his hand finds my waist, and he turns me toward him. My back comes to rest against the wall beside the door.

“Alexei,” I gasp against his mouth, but it isn't a protest. If anything, it sounds more like a plea.

He answers with another kiss that steals whatever thought I was trying to hold onto. One hand traces down my arm before guiding it above my head. Then the other joins it. His fingers find the hem of my sweatshirt and tug it upward. The fabric slides over my head and lands somewhere on the floor, leaving me standing there in my bra. The look in his eyes makes my pulse pound.

A rough breath leaves him, then his mouth finds mine once more, slower this time, like he's trying to memorize me. One of his hands slides to my waist while the other cups the side of my face. I lean into him without thinking.

When his lips leave mine, they don't go far. He brushes a kiss along my jaw before lowering his head to my neck. A shiver races through me. I close my eyes and tilt my head, giving him more access.

The room feels far away. Everything fades except for Alexei and the feel of him. I rest my forehead against his temple and hold on to him. He wraps his arms around me and pulls me closer, and the simple strength of his embrace untangles the knot in my chest.

Right now, I don't need answers. I don't need promises. I need Alexei.

His mouth traces a path along my collarbone as his hands make quick work of freeing me from my bra. The air hits my bare breasts, raising gooseflesh, but his hands are already there, warm and calloused. He cups the weight of them, his thumbs dragging over my nipples until they peak into aching, hard points. I arch into the touch, a broken moan tearing from my throat, my head falling back against the wall.

He drops down in front of me so fast it steals my breath. His hands find the waistband of my jeans, and before I can gather a coherent thought, they're pooled around my ankles. I step free of them, my heart hammering harder with each breath. The way he's looking at me leaves me feeling exposed, and it has nothing to do with missing clothes.

My back finds the wall behind me, and I cling to him like he's the only steady thing left in the world. When his lips brush my stomach, a shiver works its way through me, every nerve suddenly awake.

“Yes, Alexei,” I breathe, my fingers slipping into his hair as I hold on to him. The words come out low, full of relief and need and feelings I don't know how to untangle.

He doesn't tease. There’s no slow build-up or gentle exploration. He latches onto my pussy with a desperate hunger, his tongue flattening against my clit and dragging upward with firm, wet pressure. The sensation is electric, shooting through my nervous system like a lightning strike. He eats me like he’s starving, his tongue delving into my hole, fucking while tasting every inch of me.

The room feels impossibly still around us, making every reaction impossible to hide. He sucks my clit into his mouth, his teeth grazing the sensitive bundle of nerves, and I see stars. My hips buck against his face, seeking more friction, more pressure. He growls against my flesh, the vibration adding another layer of intensity that makes my thighs tremble.

“God, yes, just like that,” I pant, my voice breathless and ragged. “Don't stop.”

He adjusts his grip, his hands holding my ass cheeks, pulling me harder onto his mouth, burying his face in my pussy. He alternates between thrusting his tongue inside my hole and flicking it rapidly over my clit, pushing me higher and higher. Everything about this feeds the need already burning inside me. I can feel my wetness dripping down my thighs.

The pressure builds, coiling low and tight in my stomach. My breath comes in short, sharp gasps. The world narrows down to the sensation of his mouth, the heat of his breath, and the relentless rhythm of his tongue against my swollen flesh.

“I'm gonna come,” I warn him.

He doubles his efforts, sucking hard on my clit while he slides a thick finger between my folds, angling it to find that spot inside me that makes me see white. He adds another finger without releasing my clit. The dual stimulation is too much. The coil snaps.

My orgasm rips through me, violent and overwhelming. I cry out, my body convulsing, my pussy clenching around his fingers as wave after wave rolls through me until I can barely think. I grind against his face, riding out the sensation, my vision blurring at the edges. He doesn't stop, lapping up my juices, prolonging the ecstasy until I’m a boneless, panting mess against the wall.

Slowly, the tremors subside. He lowers my leg gently, letting me find my footing, and presses a soft kiss to the inside of my thigh before rising to his feet. His chin glistens in the low light.

He reaches for the hem of his shirt and pulls it over his head. My breath catches as familiar scars come into view, each one a reminder of everything he's survived. My hand finds his chest before I can stop myself. I trace one of the scars lightly, my heart twisting at the thought of how close I came to losing him before I ever knew him.

His hand starts toward his belt when an aggressive buzz shatters the moment. The sound cuts through the room, and Alexei goes still. His cell phone vibrates inside his pocket. Neither of us moves. The buzzing finally stops, and for one hopeful heartbeat, I think whoever it is has given up.

Then it starts again.

A look of irritation crosses his face. He ignores it. The phone continues vibrating anyway, demanding attention neither of us wants to give it. Once. Twice. Three times. The interruption feels almost deliberate.

“Ignore it,” I whisper.

His mouth twitches, but the phone refuses to quit. With a muttered curse in Russian, he reaches into his pocket and pulls it free. One look at the screen changes something in his expression.

Alexei exhales sharply through his nose before answering. “What?”