Page 31 of Dimitri
Shifting, she lifted her head to stare at him and felt the familiar frisson of awareness washing over her. His dark hair was tousled, his face relaxed.
"Why do you have a skill like that?"
"My brother and I wanted to be spies."
"Ah, Russian spies."
"A bit over the top, but yes."
"Any lock?"
"Most." He grinned at her and realized that having a conversation after mind blowing sex was almost as wonderful. "Some are easier than most." He flicked a finger down her pert nose. "And speaking of that, yours is a joke. One that a child could manage to handle. You should see about getting something more challenging."
She gave him a look of unadulterated disgust that had the smile widening. "Remind me why I should not pick up the phone and report you for breaking and entering?"
His gaze slid over her face and down to her chest. "It might be a bit awkward to explain why you're literally in bed with a suspect."
"If you ever break into my place."
"I won't need to. You will give me a key of course."
His arrogance stole her breath and fantastic lovemaking or not, she was going to set some things straight. "We're not in a relationship. And next time, you might try asking instead of ordering. You will not be getting a key."
He hid his disappointment and anger at her stubbornness and responded mildly.
"Then it's going to be me using my skills to get in and that's going to be a waste of my time." He clamped a hand at the back of her neck and twisted the coil of hairs around his wrist, forcing her face up. "Because deny it or not, we're in a relationship. If you think one night is going to do it for us, think again."
Her glare could have melted steel, but he returned it with one of his own.
"You don't get to decide." He silenced her effectively by crushing his mouth to hers. She struggled, still furious with his high-handed manner, but it could not stand up under the weakness invading her body. With a resigned moan, she turned into him and succumbed to the passion already taking over.
He made love to her two more times before forcing himself to give them a break. She was half on top of him, her face buried on his chest, her breath warming his skin. His arm was wrapped firmly around her body, anchoring her to him. He had settled the argument or the beginnings of one in his own inimitable way, but he knew he had a long way to go.
She was going to continue to resist what was happening between them and he was going to continue to push. A grim smile touched his lips as he recalled how he had ruthlessly used his skills as a lover to whittle down her defenses. Ironically, it had also brought him to his knees. Her response, the keening cries, the surge of her body against his, the brush of her rigid nipples on his chest had made him so mad for her, he had wanted to tear her apart.
Taking a deep careful breath, he tilted his head to stare at her. His dream of having her hair spread out for him to see was realized. Her complexion fascinated him. Her skin was flawless, her mouth a wonder of lush beauty. He knew the taste and texture by heart. And he recognized the way her eyes widened and darkened when the climax was imminent. Her passion was exhilarating, fueling his hunger.
He could never get enough of her, no matter how many times he had her. She murmured in her sleep and burrowed against him. His response was to wrap his arms more securely around her slender waist.
At the age of forty-two, he had finally fallen in love and was shaken by the magnitude of the discovery.
For a moment, he allowed himself to savor the quiet, the intimacy of the shared space, and the steady rhythm of her breathing. The woman tangled in his arms was a complication he'd never expected, and yet, he found the idea of navigating her complexities oddly thrilling. He brushed a stray lock of hair from her cheek, marveling at how effortlessly she had upended his world, and wondered if she would ever let herself admit what was building between them.
*****
She woke the next morning with the sun streaming through the drapes and memories flooding her mind immediately. The place beside her was empty and she told herself that it was relief that she felt. He was gone and that was good. It saved her the trouble of booting him out.
Memories brought with it the delicious lassitude that fantastic lovemaking left behind. Her body felt wonderfully used and forthe first time in her life she brushed away the guilt. She felt like a woman. A woman who had been suitably and ruthlessly attended to.
Sitting up, she dragged her hands over her face and down her coils. His body had left a deep imprint on her pillows and his scent still lingered. Shaking thoughts of him from her mind, she swung her legs off the bed after glancing at the clock.
She had also slept through her alarm. Rushing into the bathroom, she took a hurried shower and grabbed clothes at random. There was simply no time to pin her hair back or even put it in a braid.
Selecting a trio of black bands, she made do and twisted the heavy coils behind her head, leaving it streaming down her back. Picking up the clothing he had tossed carelessly in his haste last night, she dumped them in the laundry basket. Barely glancing at herself in the mirror, she passed a hand over the A-line black skirt and reached for a matching jacket to put on over the cream-colored sweater.
She paused for a moment, catching sight of her own reflection and the faint flush still coloring her cheeks. The memory of his touch lingered, impossible to ignore, and she could feel the echo of last night in the way her body moved. Slightly sore, but undeniably alive. Despite her best intentions, something deep inside her whispered that she was changed, that what hadhappened between them could not simply be swept aside with a hurried morning routine.
Shaking her head, she went for shoes and grabbed a jacket. Making sure she had everything and despairing at the fact that she had not once looked at the files she brought home, she shoved open the door of her bedroom. The tantalizing scent hit her at once and had her pausing in the act of closing the door.
