24
Vasili felt her eyes on him as he stood near the oven, about to disrobe.
He knew it wasn’t so, that his imagination was running amok, because Alexandra had no interest whatsoever in his body.
And she should be asleep. He’d waited long enough to ensure that she would be.
Yet he imagined her watching him and he became so hard he ached.
It was pure self-torture, getting in that bed to lie beside her. She was tightly wrapped in her blanket, had piled every other one she’d been able to find on top of the bed, and the second he lay down, he could feel the heat radiating from her body.
As chilled as he still was, he was drawn to that heat as strongly as he’d ever been drawn to a female body, and it wasn’t sexual attraction. The sexual need was there, too, pulling just as strongly, but this was another need, just as basic, a simple need for warmth.
And yet he didn’t dare gratify that need.
She’d said they must share body heat, she’d said it, not he.
But because of the state of his arousal, if he gave in to the one need, he’d lose control of the other.
So he lay there, beginning to shiver, gritting his teeth to keep them from chattering, being torn apart by both needs.
Logically, Vasili knew that he would eventually warm up just as Alexandra had.
Eventually his arousal would quiet down, too.
And eventually he might even fall asleep.
In the meantime, he was going to suffer through the worst night of his life; what he wanted was within his reach, yet it might as well be miles away because he was unable to take it.
But he could at least get as close to her as possible without actually touching her. The bed was narrow. Lying on his side, facing her, he was already close. Just a few inches more…
Alexandra sucked in a breath and sat bolt upright when his foot accidentally brushed against hers. “God, your feet are freezing!”
In the next moment, she reached beneath the covers, pulled his nearest foot onto her lap, and began to rub it briskly with her warm hands. Her blanket opened in the front, held only by her shoulders, but he was in the wrong position to see what it revealed.
“Didn’t you have sense enough to stick them in front of the fire?” she continued, her tone abrasive. “Don’t you know that if your feet are cold, the rest of you doesn’t stand a chance of warming up?”
There was a part of him that was burning hot, completely disputing that remark. He didn’t mention it to her. He also didn’t mention that he had sat before the fire, still in his damp clothes, and that the warmth had failed to penetrate them, reaching only a few parts of him.
But the cold hadn’t been on his mind then; she had.
He had been thinking of her lying naked in that bed, thinking about joining her there, just as naked, imagining her turning to him—and what would naturally occur after that.
He hadn’t thought of her scolding him, and sitting there warming his foot with her hands, as if it were the most natural thing in the world for her to be doing.
It was a bit of a shock, being treated like a child. But the mere fact that she was touching him, albeit in a nonsexual way, gave him anything but childlike thoughts. And it was even more of a shock that she was touching him at all.
He couldn’t figure out why she was doing it. For that matter, why had she practically insisted that they share the same bed? Had she merely suspended their differences for the duration of this misadventure, or…
The other reason that occurred to him started his heart pumping to a nearly audible tempo. Could Alexandra want him, yet be too bashful to say so after all that had passed between them?
The numbness was rapidly receding from his foot. After a few moments more, she said in that impatient tone of hers, “Give me the other one.”
He was quick to comply, and it wasn’t long before he felt warm all over, from either her ministrations or his own thoughts.
“Thank you,” he said when she finally stopped.
All she did was give him a curt nod of acknowledgment before she lay down again, turning away from him as she’d been before.
Vasili threw caution to the wind and lied. “I’m still chilled, Alex. I believe you said something about sharing body heat—”
She turned onto her belly and pounded her pillow. She was also groaning. Ironically, Vasili found that to be quite an encouraging sign.
“You’ve changed your mind?” he queried, trying for a blend of indifference and disappointment, no easy feat.
She sighed. “No, go ahead.” And then she added sternly, “As long as you keep your hands to yourself.”
Now, that wasn’t encouraging. But she turned onto her side again and moved slightly backward, while he moved forward.
They connected, back to chest. She would have given no more, but he wanted it all, buttocks to loins, thigh to thigh.
He edged closer until they were a perfect fit.
She protested by scooting away. He followed until she could move no farther and gave up. She sighed again.
He had to fight down his own sighs of pleasure. He also had to keep his hands tightly fisted, or he’d be touching her all over. But if he couldn’t use his hands as he wanted to, he could and did use his body, though he wasn’t obvious about it, was in fact quite devious.
It was a subtle seduction. A caress here, a rub there, a shift, a stretch, warm breath on her neck, nothing overt, nothing threatening. And it was working. He could feel her relaxing into him—until that part of him that had a mind of its own pressed against her buttocks.
She stiffened. “It occurs to me that your body has warmed up sufficiently, Petroff.”
That was an understatement, but he maneuvered himself to whisper in her ear, “Then why am I still trembling?”
“I don’t feel—”
He was quick to interrupt. “Of course you don’t, bundled up in that blanket as you are, when all you need are the top ones—and me.”
“Petroff—”
He cut her off again. “If you don’t believe I’m trembling, come closer.”
“No, I’ll take your word for it.”
“Which is what I did, took you at your word, yet you’re not giving me all of your heat.” His voice sounded accusing now. “Or is it that you don’t have anything on underneath that blanket?”
“Yes, but—”
“Then what’s the difference if you remove it? I don’t call that sharing—”
“All right!”
Beneath the top blankets, she shoved down the one she’d been wrapped in, but no lower than her hips. Actually, she doubled it over her backside, as a sort of shield against what she’d felt.
Vasili almost laughed. She now knew that he wanted her, she couldn’t not know, but she wouldn’t mention it.
He knew this game very well. Instead of leaving the bed, offended or outraged, she was playing the game, making the traditional huffs and puffs of supposed protest. The moves would continue to be his, while she continued to pretend she didn’t know what he was doing.
It would be a game well played, with a satisfactory conclusion for them both.
And he refused to listen to the voice that warned him that his Alexandra was too direct and straightforward to countenance such games.
Instead he ran through his favorite lines for seduction—and realized that none were appropriate for this particular woman. Honesty, plain and simple, was what was needed and for once, honesty was going to win the game.
But not yet, that voice cautioned. This woman required patience, even if it killed him, and it just might.
Still without touching her, he surrounded her with his body. He hadn’t seen what she was wearing, but he could feel it now, some sort of sleeveless camisole, thick and sturdy, nothing frilly. He imagined her in silk and lace and nearly groaned.
After a moment more, he pressed his face to the back of her neck, rubbing it against her hair and skin. He felt her shiver and pounced on this reaction.
“If you’re getting cold,” he said huskily, “my arms might help.”
“No! I’m not!” she assured him. “In fact, I’m getting too wa—”
“I can’t tell you how much I appreciate this, Alex,” he replied.
Another sigh, exasperated in tone. He wanted her relaxed again, but she wasn’t cooperating.
“Am I making you nervous?”
“Of course not.”
“Good, because I don’t think this is going to work until you—”
Vasili said no more, waiting for her curiosity to get the better of her. Tactics like these rarely failed, and they didn’t now, but it took nearly ten seconds, much longer than he would have figured.
“What?”
“Until you lie on top of me.”
The tension was almost palpable, right up until she exploded with “That does it!” and sat up, throwing back the blankets to get out of bed.
Desperation made Vasili much quicker, his arm snaking around her waist to pull her back down, his chest moving over hers to hold her there, his mouth catching her protest, hushing it for the moment.
He had only seconds to win her over, he knew; he could feel her pushing against his shoulders. If he lost this time…
Alexandra was lost. She’d fought it from the moment he had removed his shirt and revealed all that golden skin, and contours more masculine than she could have imagined.
She’d closed her eyes to fight it, appalled by what the mere sight of his naked chest had done to her.
And she’d almost told him to sleep on the floor after all.
But she hadn’t. She should have, but she hadn’t. And when he’d curled his body to hers, the desire had built inside her, had nearly taken over twice, and now was beyond her control. And he hadn’t let her run from it. Had he known what she was feeling, what he’d made her feel?
He held her cheeks with both hands while he kissed her. He was gentle. He was thorough. He was at his persuasive best. And he was driving her mad with…
“Your body is driving me mad, sweetheart. I’m sorry, but I can’t lie here beside you and not make love to you.”
Had she said that? No, he had. And for once his “sweetheart” hadn’t sounded mocking; it had sounded like the endearment it was supposed to be.
But he wasn’t giving her a chance to answer him.
He was kissing her again, more deeply now, and she was drowning in sensations, the heat, the churning—him. She was drowning in him, with him.
“Yes,” she gasped out when she could.
“What?”
“Yes, now.”
“Oh, God, thank you,” he whispered, covering her face with kisses, not missing an inch of it.
She smiled, not sure what God had to do with it. He didn’t notice, moving on to her neck, her shoulders, leaving a moist, hot trail that caused shiver after shiver to pass down her arms, down her spine, down her legs.
The covers were gone. He was her cover now, and she didn’t feel the cold at all.
On the contrary, she was so hot, a dousing in the snow would have been welcome.
Vasili was more welcome, though, when he moved farther over her and settled between her legs, not his hips but his waist, because he’d moved down as his mouth had, following the deep scoop of her camisole, his teeth pulling at the strings that laced it together, opening it inch by agonizing inch.
Her own hands were not idle, were learning the texture and hardness of his skin, the broadness of his shoulders, the thickness of his neck, the unruly hair that was so soft running through her fingers.
“Oh, Jesus, thank you. They’re more perfect than I imagined,” he said reverently.
He had revealed her breasts completely, was staring at them in something akin to awe, and she was finally embarrassed, because she considered them her worst feature.
They were too large, frequently having to be bound when she worked and exercised her horses, certainly more trouble than they were worth.
Yet Vasili didn’t seem to think so, and she stared at him oddly as he buried his face between them, turning slowly from side to side to share his lips with each.
And then his words penetrated. He didn’t find her breasts unusual, he found them beautiful, and he proved that over and over again in the minutes that followed.
He held them, he caressed and suckled on them, he wouldn’t leave them alone.
And what that sensual onslaught did to Alexandra, coupled with his hard belly pressed to the center of her loins, was to take her so near the precipice, the tiniest push would have sent her over.
Vasili was aware of that. He knew the female body as well as his own, knew all the pleasure points and how to maximize a woman’s enjoyment.
And he knew that Alexandra had gone beyond that.
Her breathing told him, her fingers digging into his scalp, the arching, the thrusting, her legs squeezing against his waist with more strength than he’d ever felt before.
Much as he would have loved to continue his exploration of her body, he wanted even more to feel her climax surrounding him.
And if he didn’t enter her now, she’d have it without him.
His lips returned to hers to try to calm her with light nibbles while he removed the rest of her underwear, but she was beyond calming.
And she was as demanding and passionate in lovemaking as she was in everything else, pulling him to her as soon as she was bare, her hands gripping his buttocks, pressing him forward.
It was mere luck that he was positioned accurately, because she wasn’t waiting, was already thrusting upward, and he slid home, into so much moist heat, such incredible tightness, and an unexpected barrier that he broke through before there was even time for him to realize what it was.
There was a barely perceptible stiffening of her body that didn’t last, a gasp that she cut off.
He leaned upward, disbelieving, but whatever he would have said was forgotten as he watched the pleasure suddenly wash over her, felt the pulsebeat surround him and draw him deeper into her, and in the next heartbeat, incredibly, he soared over the edge himself, caught in the most powerful climax of his experience.