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“Make me.”
She tips her head, and her electric blue eyes flicker with fire. Even if I wanted to, how the fuck could I resist those parted red lips? I brush my mouth across hers, tasting the sweetness that’s pure Rose, the excitement and the burst of champagne she’s been drinking. I slide my tongue slowly over her bottom lip, breathing in her scent, the sigh she makes. Her mouth is wet, soft, hot, pure fucking perfection, and it takes all I have not to drag her off and take her now.
Instead, I spin her against me so her ass is pressed right against my cock, growing harder by the second, just for her.
She wiggles, grinding in against me as I spread my hand around her waist, splaying it so I’m touching her from beneath her tits and over her flat belly. She rests her head on my chest, and my heart upticks in its bone cage.
“Who was the blonde?”
I laugh in her ear, nipping it. “Jealous?”
“Yes.”
Fuck, she kills.
Rose slips her fingers over my splayed hand, her touch gossamer, fire, need, and something I can’t place, but it feels a little like home.
“No idea. She gave me something, not sure what yet.”
“Do—”
“Be careful how you finish that sentence,” I mutter. “If you’re going to ask if I want her, it’s not the right question. It’s one that’ll get the wrong kind of anger from me.”
“Youget jealous.”
I bite her ear again. “Rose, I don’t want other men touching what’s mine, hurting what’s mine, thinking they can do things to what’s mine. There’s a difference. If I saw you make your fucking moon eyes at one, you’d see jealousy, and it won’t be pretty. Got it?”
She huffs out a breath, sliding her free hand down behind her to squeeze my cock. “I was going to ask if you thought what she gave you was about this.”
I laugh. “Liar, Rose.”
“You don’t talk about other women.”
“They don’t matter. What we did on the plane is a vanilla act, one that doesn’t overly interest me. With you? I’ll fuck you missionary until we both go blind if that’s what you want.”
Now, she sucks in a breath and lets out a soft sound. “You didn’t like it?”
“I fucking loved it because it’s with you, Rose.”
Because I love her. She knows that. I’ve told her. She wears my ring. She gets away with so much, and I’m not that kind of man.
“I loved it, too. Because it’s you.”
“Are you wet, Rose?” I slip my hand lower to rest just above her mound, and I slowly grip the slinky material, drawing it up. Not much, but enough to put her on edge, enough to spike the need and fear and desire and lust in her blood. She’s my fucking violin, and in my hands, the music she makes is exquisite.
“Nikolai…” My name as a moan on her lips is pure filth and flickering darkness.
“Are you?” A tiny bit higher, and she jerks, her hand still on my cock, fingers closing around me.
I’m torturing the both of us, and it’s a fucking masterclass.
“You know I am.”
I bite her ear again, releasing her dress and spinning her back into my arms to face me. “Maybe, if you’re lucky, we’ll do something about it later.”
Kissing her again, I suck in a breath as she wraps her arms about my neck. “Want me to keep working the room for you?”
Guilt slices into me. Even now, it’s still new, uncomfortable. I’ve used her before, at the beginning, when I was blinded by hate and what I needed to do.
