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Something like fear flashed in his eyes in the moment before they darkened into desire. “I think I’ll retire the namevoronochka.It’s not worthy of you.”
“And what will you call me instead oflittle sparrow?”
“Mymalen'kiy sokolof course.”
“Little falcon," she murmured.
“Falcons are as deadly as lions in their own way.” He rubbed his thumb along her bottom lip. “You can spot our prey from the sky. I will kill them on the ground.”
He crushed her lips under his, capturing her mouth in a frenzied kiss, his tongue diving deep, thrusting and pillaging, tangling with her own until heat expanded from her center and her sex grew wet with need for him.
She wanted him. Wanted his hands and mouth and fingers on every part of her body. More than that, she loved him. She wasn’t ready to say, wasn’t ready to tell him, but the truth of it beat like a drum in her chest.
It was a mistake. It was also the truest thing she’d ever known.
When they broke apart, they were both breathing hard.
She slid her hands down his chest, cupped his erection in one of her palms. This was the easy part: giving him her body, letting him invade her until there was nothing but naked skin and raw desire and cries of pleasure.
“Take me home, Lyon. I need you inside me.”
He pulled her against him and they hurried away from the water, toward the brownstone and bed.
