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“I thought I could get to where I figured Misha might be holed up, but I didn’t even get around the corner. They’re everywhere. Misha was trying to get in here, I’m sure of that much, but I didn’t see him out there. There are a few places only he knows about in the house. He’ll be in one of them.”
“And your family?”
“In another one of them,” he confirmed.
“What do we do?” she asked.
“Nothing,” he shrugged. “I’ve no way of communicating now that the phone is smashed.”
She clenched her teeth in regret.
“Yeah, sorry. That was really stupid.”
“Yeah, it was,” he agreed. “Difficulty regulating your emotions, huh?”
She gave him a look.
“Only when my father is concerned,” she said.
“Hey.” He got her eyes in his again. “I get it.”
“So, we what? We just wait here?”
“I trust Misha. He knows what he’s doing. There’s still hope he’ll get us out.”
She wanted to believe that, leaning into his lingering touch.
“I’m sorry,” she said. His eyebrows rose. “I got you into this situation. If I’d only done a proper background check or paid more attention or—”
“No, stop, listen,” he cut her off. “This isn’t your fault. We did a background check. We’ve dealt with him for years, remember? We didn’t have any more of a clue than you did.”
“Yeah, but I lived with him.”
“Did you? Really?” he asked.
She thought about it and figured that perhaps she hadn’t. Not really. He’d moved his stuff into her space, but it had never felt like she actually shared it with him. Or even that she wanted to share it, however much she lied to herself that she did. His socks in her sock drawer had irked her. His toothbrush next to hers had looked weird. The fact that he always drank coffee out of her favorite mug and left it on the counter for her to rinse out had made her want to throw the thing at his head.
Why hadn’t she listened to her own body telling her he wasn’t right for her?
She rested her gaze on Dmitri’s, feeling out what her body was telling her now. Soft, slow ripples of anticipating, swirling right beneath her skin. Goosebumps from where his hand was still resting against her cheek, cascading down her neck, across her shoulders. The tug between their mouths was growing stronger, urging them to close the distance already.
Finally, she left self-restraint somewhere indistinct and let all the fresh desire pour itself through her like the magma she’d feared he’d direct at her in that first hour of their meeting, her mouth catching his hungrily.
He moaned softly, urging her on as she parted her lips and deepened the kiss to taste him. He tasted like his scent and filled her to the brim with glowing want to trace her tongue down his neck, over his chest, down to his cock and have its velvety softness fill her mouth. The mere thought made her moan as well, her hand already working languidly at his crotch, dragging a soft touch along the hardening length of him.
He surprised her by wrapping his arms around her, pulling her flush against his chest, hands roving up and down her back. The movements slow, the kiss languid. Even with their breaths stuttering, the need for more staggering inside of her, she enjoyed the sensation of his firm hold on her too much to want to break away. His hands slid down to her ass, lifting her to wrap her legs around his hips as he turned to the bed, tipping her gently onto it.
His fingers slipped down to the hem of the nightgown, tugging it until it rested halfway up her thighs. Her eyes were closed, mouth half open with expectation, and when his fingertips caressed against her folds, she bit her lower lip. Her legs fell open of their own accord, her aching clit waiting for the touch of his fingers or his tongue. She couldn’t care less. She felt like she was knotted around that part of her, as though it was the very center of her entire being and she craved for him to acknowledge her.
He did, the tip of his tongue licking slowly, two fingers spreading her folds to give himself easier access.
“Oh,” she gasped, hips bucking against the pressure of his mouth against her, wanting more of it, all of it.
She grabbed fistfuls of the bedcover, back arching. He rolled his tongue, making her groan, completely losing herself in the sensation he was producing deep within her. She’d never felt anything like it, the climb to the peak happening gradually but undeniably forcefully. She reached blindly for a pillow, putting it over her face as the climax rolled over her, her scream of pleasure muffled by the cotton.
She felt sweat slicking her back, the heat in her veins sure to be making her glow and when she removed the pillow her satisfaction was plain for him to see. She smiled at how the fire was tracing his veins as well. It didn’t have to. It wasn’t a prerequisite for being turned on. But the fact that he showed his excitement made her happy. It was a sign of affection. He was grinning, looking very pleased with himself, which made her giggle. She reached out her hands, beckoning him, and he moved up to place himself on top of her. She wrapped her arms around him as he kissed her, her taste still on his tongue not fazing her.
It was her turn.
