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My groin tightens. My body reacts on auto, sitting me upright. “Katya? What the hell are you doing?”
She stops unravelling. “I couldn’t sleep. And… you want me.”
My mouth flaps uselessly for the length of several sentences before I line up the words. “Katya, you don't have to do this.” I lay my hand on hers where she’s still fiddling with the belt of the robe. “I’d help you regardless.”
“You think I didn't see your eyes following me whenever you were on duty? Always on me. Not Leone. Me.”
It’s hard to swallow. “I was your bodyguard.”
“But you still wanted me. And you were always the perfect gentleman. You never so much as hinted…”
“Katya, I’m a pro. That would have been a betrayal of trust.”
She snorts, derision loud. “You are not the one who has betrayed trust, Hickman. You’ve saved my life. Saved me. Endangered yourself to save me.”
My breath is tight. My voice husky. “Katya, not that I don’t appreciate what you’re doing, but this is gratitude speaking, not…”
“Gratitude!” she snaps. “Damn right I’m grateful. You've given me my life back. I want to give you something in return.” Her voice cracks and her eyes well. “What more can I give you than myself?”
I lean back. Away. “But you don't want me. Katya, do you really think I’d take a woman who doesn’t want me?”
She pauses, her brow furrowing. A lock of hair, delinquent, escapes from the rest, trailing free. “I didn't want you. Not before. That’s true…” Her fingers slip back to the belt. “It’s different now.”
My voice is out of control. I aim for sardonic. I’m not sure if I achieve it. “Is that right? Katya of the designer clothes and the up-town manners? The high-class education and the diamonds. What are you looking for from me? A bit of rough?”
She breaks off from fiddling with the belt. Frowns. “Rough?” She folds her arms. “A rough diamond perhaps.”
My throat is dry. My mouth furred. Under my ribs, my heart hammers.
She watches me, then after long seconds-minutes-hours-heartbeats, she tilts her head, her eyes soft. “I would never have guessed you'd be shy.”
Angling to look up at her, with no due notice, my pants are uncomfortably tight. The stray lock of hair swings, brushing my forehead. The dangling end of the belt almost at my eye level, the scent of clean linen and warm woman washes my face.
I set my hands on her hips, resting my forehead against her belly. Fingers twine through my hair. “Hickman?”
“You’re right. I want you…” The pulse pounds behind my ears. “… But not here. Not like this. In the bedroom.”
“Whatever you say.” She offers a hand and standing, I accept it, following her.
CHAPTER TWELVE
The bed lies with the blankets only slightly disturbed, pulled back, but with the top cover compressed at the edge, delved as though she sat there
Still in her robe, Katya stands facing me. Smiling, slips a pin from her hair, setting it on the side-table. She reaches for another, but I touch her wrist. “May I? I’d like to.”
She tilts her head, blinking two or three times. Her smile returns. “You may.”
Close enough now to see properly, her long tresses are bound up in a complicated knot of twists and braids. As I slide out one pin after another, then a pair of combs, braids drop free, releasing her scent with them.
Moving to stand behind her, I untwist bands from the ends of the braids, then carefully unravel long, glossy locks. So close, her body heat bathes my chest. Katya shakes her head and her hair falls free, shivering down to her waist in a fragrant cloud.
She sits on the bed, pats the spot beside her. I sit, touching a finger to her cheek. "You're really good with this? With me?”
“I came looking for you, Hickman.” Her face cants. “I’ve already said yes.”
I move closer, brush my lips over hers, a bare touch, then withdrawing, my face close to hers, hovering, I wait.
She finishes the movement, urgent, as she teases my mouth open with hers. Opening over her, tasting her, my hands roam over the robe. Her waist. The contour of a hip. The arch of her spine. The curve of her shoulders… But I pause, shy of the dressing over her injury. “I don’t want to hurt you.”
