Bound by Love (Russian Connection 2)

“Perhaps not, but that will not halt me from doing so again.”

He felt her shiver and, quickening his pace, he led her around the small pool to climb the steps of the private grotto. Bloody hell, he had to kiss this woman before he went stark raving mad.

She gasped as he yanked her into the shadows of the grotto that was painted with lovely Grecian frescoes, his arms wrapping around her to haul her firmly against his chest.

“Is this why you returned early?” she demanded, her glare at odds with the rapid pulse beating at the base of her throat.

Miss Karkoff might pretend indifference, but she desired him. Her words could lie, but not her body.

“I returned because I could not stay away.” Dipping his head, Stefan buried his face in the curve of her neck. “Jasmine.”

“What?”

“You smell of jasmine.”

She shuddered, her hands lifting to clutch at his shoulders.

“Stefan, what do you want of me?”

“I should think that obvious.” He pulled back to regard her with a grim determination, his fingers easily dealing with the ribbons that held her chip bonnet tied beneath her chin. “But if you wish, I shall reveal precisely what I want of you.”

She made a sound of annoyance as he casually tossed the hat onto the flagstone floor.

“That is my favorite bonnet.”

Heat spread through his lower body, stirring his muscles in sharp anticipation.

“A charming concoction, but as you know I prefer a more natural beauty.” With a few practiced motions he had the pearl studded pins plucked from her hair, allowing the golden curls to tumble over her shoulders. With a low groan, he thrust his fingers through the thick curls. “Silken sunshine.”

Her fingers tightened on his shoulders. “You are trying to distract me.”

He brushed his lips over her brow, pausing to nuzzle the pulse hammering at her temple.

“Am I succeeding?”

“Damn you,” she said huskily.

“Such language, little dove. Those lips were meant for a far sweeter purpose.” Framing her face in his hands, Stefan angled it upward, seeking her lips in a kiss of sheer possession. Mine, a voice whispered in the back of his mind. Parting her mouth with his tongue, Stefan tasted deeply of her sweet innocence, a savage hunger humming through his body. For a moment she went rigid, as if startled by his invasion, then with a sigh, she arched closer to his body and tangled her fingers in his hair. “Yes,” he muttered against her lips, his hands smoothing up her back as he skillfully unhooked the pearl buttons.

He swept his lips over her eyes, the perfect line of her nose, before returning to her pleading lips. At the same moment, he was shifting her arms so he could tug her gown down until it pooled at her feet.

Leonida groaned, pulling back to regard him with dazed eyes. “The servants…”

“Will not trouble us here,” he promised, nuzzling that tender spot at the base of her throat that always made her shiver.

“Do they know this is where you lure hapless women?” she rasped, even as her head tilted back to allow him greater access.

“Hapless?” He laughed as he shifted to press her against the wall, his fingers tracing the scooped bodice of her shift. Her skin was as soft as the finest silk. “You are the most dangerous woman I have ever encountered, Miss Karkoff. The Emperor is wiser than I ever suspected.”

Her breath caught at his accusation. “What do you mean?”

“You are the one with the answers, not I,” he muttered, far more interested in removing her lacy corset than in discovering the truth. The undergarment dropped to the ground, swiftly followed by her thin shift. She shivered. Stefan wrapped her tightly in his arms. “And until I have the truth from you I intend to enjoy what has been offered me.”

“Stefan…” She gave a startled squeak as he bent his head to take a puckered nipple between his lips. “Oh.”

“Shh, my dove,” he murmured, savoring the sweet taste of Leonida’s skin as he explored the curve of her breast, his fingers stroking down her lower back and over the flare of her hips.

She was tiny, but perfectly shaped, and so exquisitely soft. Flawless. With a muttered curse, Stefan ripped off his cravat and jacket, his waistcoat swiftly following. Then, jerking his linen shirt over his head, he reached to grasp her hands and pressed them to his chest.