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“That enough action for you?” he asked her as he took a step towards the bed.
“You tossed me in a manly fashion,” she rasped, her vocal cords having forgotten their primary function. He dipped his head in acknowledgment, his free hand trailing down his chiseled abs to graze the top of his pants. Grace’s eyes followed the slow drag of his fingers against his skin. She would kill to be his damn pinky.
“I did.” He looked up at her with a smoldering expression—like she was a nine-course dinner and he hadn’t eaten in weeks. Like a wolf. She shuddered at the look of open desire in his eyes. “And that’s not all I’m going to do to you in a manly fashion.” The belt hanging from his fingers made her pulse jump at the base of her neck as a warm flush swept over her. If she was a Viking princess, then he was the king who was going to bring her to her knees.
He gestured with the belt before he let it fall from his fingers with a thud. “Come here.”
She pushed herself up on her hands and knees and, keeping her eyes locked with his, crawled down the bed until she was in front of him. Leaning forward, she pressed a gentle kiss above his hip bone. At the touch of her mouth, his body went rigid like a taut bowstring.
“I have wanted you for months,” he whispered, his voice disrupting the quiet of the room. His hands tangled in her hair and she moaned, turning into his touch. “From the second I heard your voice, I wanted you for myself. There’s no one else for me.”
His words went straight to her core. The heat in her body coiled and unfurled until it spilled over and filled every part of her. If he touched her, and she knew he would, he would find her soaking. The state of her arousal forced her heartbeat faster and faster until she thought she might faint. He didn’t have to touch her to have her aching for him. Her clit throbbing and body hot. All he had to do was say things like that.
I have wanted you for months, and there’s no one else for me.
It was magic. The way he was speaking to her. She knew it meant something to him, just like it did to her. This was different for him, same as it was for her. She opened and shut her mouth, turning her face into his side so he didn’t see the look in her eyes that bordered on panic. She didn’t know what to do with all of this.
The this being the focus and need Anton sent her way. It was too much. It was all too much.
“I wanted you too…” It was all she could allow herself to say. Her voice trembled, but she covered it up by dropping another kiss against his side, higher this time, as her fingers began to explore the well muscled body of the man she was dead set on being thoroughly ruined by.
Anton’s hand cupped her cheek gently. “Let me see you, Grace.”
She went still then. He had said her name before, but not like this. This felt serious and complicated, intimate in a way that she didn’t suppose she had any business experiencing. But here they were. And he’d said it: her name, uttered like a prayer.
Something like that couldn’t be happening between them.
Not yet, anyhow. It was too fast for something like that. She could deny it all she wanted, but it didn’t change the fact that they both knew. What he’d admitted to with that gentle, honey-sweet and silk-soft whisper of her name.
You’re the only one for me.
He couldn’t take it back. She wouldn’t let him.
Not a chance.
But that didn't mean she was 100% ready or qualified enough to deal with it. Not with her body raging at her to rip off his pants with her teeth and proceed to bang him like a screen door in a hurricane. What she wanted wasn’t romantic—it wasn’t even close to that ghost of a feeling she had picked up on when he’d said her name. Her body was screaming at her with only intentions of the dirtiest and most delicious kind.
No love. Just lust.
Her eyes widened at the thought:love.
What the hell was she thinking? She gave a shake of her head and ripped off her sweater. The problem wasn’t that she was thinking, but that she was overthinking. She needed to stop thinking. She reached out with hurried hands and undid the button on his jeans. She had only just managed to unzip them when his hands came to rest on her shoulders, his touch gentle.
He lingered there, stroking her skin before he lifted his hands to her hair. Threading his fingers through her tresses, he spoke again in that soft timbre that had her bowing her head and shaking under his touch.
“Grace,” he whispered.
“Mm?” She tucked her chin to her chest and kept her eyes on her hands, which fumbled at his pants. By the gods, why were tear away pants only considered fashionable for exotic dancers? She would give anything for a length of convenient velcro and snap buttons. Her kingdom for quick release pants.
“Grace.Darling.”Again with the soft voice that had her insides feeling molten. She bit her lip hard to keep from giving into it. When she didn’t immediately respond, he pushed her back an inch, taking her hands in his and stilling their feeble efforts to get his pants off. He sighed and pressed her fingers to his lips in a chaste kiss, so at odds with the needy and purely physical want Grace had been doing her best to lose herself in.
When she had imagined going to bed with the infamous Anton Kovalev, this hadn’t been what she’d imagined. She smiled at the thought before letting loose a shaky breath and raising her eyes to his face. His eyebrows were knitted together in concern, eyes trained on hers, searching her out as she sat beside him.
“Are you okay with this? If you’re not, if things have changed, it’s okay.”
“What? Why would you—I mean, what do you mean?”
His eyes moved over her face. “Your energy changed.”
