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“Yes,” I hear myself breathe, before I’ve even consciously made a decision. My body feels as if there’s a second heartbeat in my veins, pulsing through me, the entire world narrowed down to the handsome man a breath away from me, his eyes gazing down at me with a hunger that lights something on fire in me that I can’t control.
Somewhere, in the back of my head, there’s an alarm going off. There’s a voice screaming at me to be careful, not to be tricked, not to give anything away for free, but it’s drowned out by the blood beating in my ears, by the need flooding through me and making my knees weak, by the way he’s looking at me as his other hand comes up to cup my jaw so delicately that I don’t even realize he’s touching me at first–and then his lips are on mine.
It’s a brush at first, a kiss so soft that it takes my breath away from the sheer gentleness of it. I can feel him holding himself back, tasting my lips as if he’s sampling fine wine, caressing my mouth with his. I hear myself gasp, a sharp indrawn breath, my lips parting under his–and that’s the moment when he deepens it.
I feel him step forward, his body making full contact with mine against the wall of the restaurant, every line of it touching mine, as if that last thread of his control snapped with the opening of my mouth beneath his. I feel his hand sliding into my hair, his tongue sliding over my lower lip, and the hard line of his cock pressing against my thigh. It sends a thrill through me, the feeling of that rigid arousal, and my hips arch upwards despite myself, pressing into him.
I’d almost forgotten what it felt like towantlike this, to crave someone this way. At this moment, the strength of it makes me wonder if I’ve ever really felt it before, if this is something new and entirely different. My hands come up, reaching up to brush against his chest, my fingers curling around his tie to pull him closer. The kiss feels good,real, better than any kiss I’ve had in a long time. His tongue slides slowly into my mouth, tangling, caressing, his lips still moving over mine. He kisses with a heated expertise that’s part skill and part lustful desire, treading that line in a way I’ve never experienced before.
I feel as if I’m losing myself in it, as if I’m treading water and about to slip beneath the surface. I hear his deep groan of pleasure, feel the way his hips lean into mine, pinning me against the wall. There’s a burst of fear somewhere inside of me, the feeling of being trapped setting some reminder off that this could be so very, very bad–and then it’s lost in desire, my heart beating wildly in my chest like a caged bird at the very same feeling that frightened me.
It’s the dichotomy that I’ve felt with him all along, fear and desire mixing into a sweet, intoxicating cocktail that dulls all my better senses and makes me forget why I should want to push him away, why I should want to escape. I hear my soft, breathy moan as his hand leaves the wall to slide up my waist, cupping my breast through the soft silk, and when his thumb flicks over my nipple, I gasp.
“I–” For a moment, I almost don’t stop him. I know where this is going. I can feel the heavy pressure of his erection against my thigh, can feel the insistent circling of his thumb against my nipple. I know before long, I’ll feel his other hand on my leg, his fingers slipping beneath my skirt, and I can see the future wherehe makes me come up against this wall, taking so much more than a kiss because I let him go this far.
I can’t let him have that much. Not without negotiating it. Not without him paying. That’s what this is about. This is about escaping, not falling into a new trap, no matter how sweet the bait is.
I twist my head away from his mouth, breathless, gasping as my heart gallops in my chest. “Mikhail–”
His mouth finds my neck, his hand closing around my breast, and the spike of sudden fear that I feel is enough to propel me out of the sinking quicksand of lust.
I reach up, shoving both of my hands against his chest, hard. He stumbles back a little, startled, giving me enough space to dart to one side, my chest heaving as I try to catch my breath. I press one hand against the galloping pulse of my heart, the other warding him off, as I glare at him
“No more negotiatinglater,” I snap, glaring at him. “I let this go too far already. I shouldn’t have even let you kiss me at all, but–”
“But you enjoyed it.” He doesn’t look as angry as I expected. If anything, he looks overly satisfied, like a cat with a dish of cream. “You can’t pretend that you didn’t, Ekaterina. I know when a woman is enjoying herself.”
I laugh. I can’t help it, even though I know it can be a dangerous thing to laugh at a man like Mikhail. “Men like you never know when a woman is enjoying herself.”
His eyes narrow, and I know instantly that I might have taken it a step too far. “I do,” he says silkily, taking a step closer, and I feel that small burst of heat through my veins again. Thememory of how much Ididenjoy it is much too close, and I swallow hard as I step back, keeping my hand up to warn him off.
“If you want more, we’ll talk about it,” I say as evenly as I can. “But not now, and not here. I’ll hail a cab–I think our date is finished.”
“I can take you back home.” Mikhail doesn’t move, but I can still see that predatory lust in his eyes, that look that both arouses and terrifies me. “You shouldn’t be left to find your own way home. That wouldn’t be verygentlemanlyof me–”
“Neither was what you just did. I can find my own way back.” I step away from him a little further, trying to calm my racing pulse. “Goodnight, Mikhail. Thank you for dinner.”
“Wait.” He calls after me as I start to turn, and god help me, I don’t know why I stop. I tell myself it’s fear of angering him further, that he knows where I work–maybe even where I live–but in truth, I feel that magnetic pull again, that draw that I’ve never felt before and can’t seem to resist, and I find myself turning back to look at him.
“What?” The snappish fire is back in my tone, and from the way his mouth twitches at the corners, I think I was right in wondering if he likes it when I fight him. “I need to be going–”
“I want to see you again.” Mikhail spreads his hands open in an innocent gesture, looking at me with something that almost looks like pleading on his face. “I’m sorry for overstepping. I want to take you on another date, Ekaterina. To make up for–this.”
Tell him no.I should; I know it. But I can feel the weight of the envelope in my clutch. I tell myself that’s what makes me saysomething different, and not a desire to have him pressing me up against another wall, his mouth hot and hungry on mine.
“We can negotiate thatlater,” I tell him, letting a little haughty disdain thread through my words, that hint of arrogance that I think he likes. “But not here and now.”
“When?” There’s something else in his voice, a slight desperation, and it sparks something in me. I like the way it makes me feel, as if I have a power over him that I hadn’t expected.
I toss my head, raising an eyebrow at him. “You can come back to the club, and we’ll talk then.”
And then, I turn and walk away without a backward glance, my hand outstretched for a cab.
Natalia
“So? How was it?”
Ruby is, quite literally, on the edge of her seat as I walk into the dressing room. I half expect her to bounce up and down as I drop my bag next to my desk, glad that tonight IknowI have my own things with me.
