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‘With Kostya?’ said Maisy by rote, her mouth dry, her throat closed.
‘No.’ He swung the sports car fluidly back onto the highway and accelerated ever so slightly, so that the breath leapt from her body. ‘That would be with me.’
CHAPTER FOUR
BY THE time they drew into the courtyard she was a mass of nerves, but Alexei, in contrast, seemed completely energised. He already had Kostya out of his child’s seat and was carrying him and the pushchair inside with the casual assurance that he would keep the boy with him for the rest of the afternoon—leaving Maisy to fumble with her shopping bag, feeling utterly swamped.
So much for looking after him. She was left with the shopping.
She could hardly credit what had happened. He had to be joking. He couldn’t possibly be suggesting what it sounded like he was suggesting. She chased his words around her head as she went through the motions of decanting her purchases onto her bed and taking a shower in the modest en suite bathroom to freshen up. She was so distracted she almost doused her brand-new hair, just dodging the water stream in time.
This whole sexual attraction thing was inappropriate and dangerous. Alexei was like that car of his—high-powered. Things could veer out of control if she didn’t handle him properly. She needed to tone it down, deflect him in some way. The problem was deep down she liked his approval—she liked that spark he got in his eyes. The woman in her did a slow burn every time he so much as looked in her direction.
Pulling on yoga pants and a long T-shirt, she told herself these clothes would firmly put the kybosh on any inclinations he had in her direction. Except, lingering in front of the mirror, she knew she was kidding herself. Deep down she wanted what she’d had in her room in London. She wanted him to look at her and lose control again. At the same time the idea terrified her, because it would involve tipping into a level of sexual intimacy she didn’t know if she was ready for. A solitary horrible experience had not encouraged her in any way to repeat it, even if she had the opportunity. But for a week now in her darkest thoughts he had been there, lifting her, his mouth on her, the heat of his body being accepted into hers.
Her reflection in the mirror taunted her. Her skin felt tight, hot and her eyes as dark as she’d ever seen them, the pupils enlarged. Her body was giving her messages she was finding difficult to ignore.
Frustrated with herself, Maisy stripped and pulled on a soft knit top and her favourite jeans instead. They weren’t obvious but they clung in all the right places. She told herself there was nothing wrong with enjoying a little male attention. She just needed to keep everything within bounds.
She could hear Kostya before she reached him. Alexei was sprawled on the floor with him in the entertainment room. Maisy hesitated, watching them. They were building blocks, and every time Alexei got eight up Kostya would knock them down, shrieking with glee. Within bounds? a dry little voice murmured in her head. And whose bounds would they be, Maisy, his or yours?
Alexei’s head came up and she knew who had won.
‘I can’t win,’ he said, his dark voice full of rich amusement. ‘He’s clearly experienced in demolition. I might employ him.’
Maisy took one step and then another into the room. She had not seen him so relaxed before and it made a spectacular sight.
Alexei made a round trip of Maisy whilst Kostya crawled about collecting his blocks. The scoop-necked knit top clung gently to the round shape of her full breasts and flared out over her hips. She was shaped like an hourglass—something he hadn’t fully appreciated until this moment. If his hands were around that little waist of hers he was sure his fingers would meet. The jeans were like a second skin, tapering over her slender calves to her small feet.
Maisy exuded a soft femininity that had the testosterone pounding through him, obliterating any sensible thought he might have had about putting the lid on this attraction. Her curves, he recognised in a flash of clarity, made a nightmare of every sharp hipbone he had ever cut himself on.
Only one thought was pumping through his brain: where had this woman been all his life? His mouth was dry by the time she crouched down and brushed the curls from Kostya’s eyes.
‘He needs a haircut.’ His voice was thick, darkened by the sexual impulses thrumming through his blood.
Her mouth tensed. He loved that she didn’t wear lipstick. ‘Not yet.’
‘I’ll get a barber in.’
‘No.’ A little frown line creased between her brows.
‘Are you going to fight me on everything, Maisy?’
‘If I have to.’
A very blatant image of Maisy naked, on top of him, assaulted his senses, and all Alexei could do about it was smile at her, wondering what magic words were going to break down whatever defences she had in place.
