“Maybe I was an Eagle Scout?”
She held up the next finger. “Orgasm whisperer. Do they teach that in Eagle Scouts?”
“Self-taught.”
“Very funny.” Her eyes narrowed. “And pretty sure of yourself, considering you called me out on what I know for a fact is an utterly convincing fakie.”
His laugh bounced out as the Jeep took a rut in the road. “Okay, first, it’s a sad commentary on the male species that you would even attempt to develop an utterly convincing fakie, as you put it, and second, there was absolutely nothing convincing about yours.”
“Says you.” She shrugged out of the sweatshirt and settled back into her seat, leaving him to appreciate the way her white top clung to her like a second skin. “I have a different theory, which is you know what to look for better than the average guy. I’m going to go out on a limb and say you’ve taken an advanced biology course or two.”
His pulse accelerated a little, which had nothing to do with the twisting road and everything to do with the prospect of dropping some of the pretense between them. “Are you asking me to confirm or deny, Czarina? Because that sounds like a request to exchange background information if I’m hearing you correctly.”
To his frustration, she shook her head. “No. I’m just thinking out loud.”
“Okeydokey. Have it your way.” But his conscience pointed out he’d bandaged her knee and given her instructions on how to care for the cut. She deserved some evidence he knew what the hell he was talking about. He was about to cave and confirm when she cursed and turned to him.
“Fine. Information exchange. Confirm or deny.”
“Confirmed. I’ve taken an advance biology course or two.”
“Does that come in handy, up in the space station?”
The question amounted to an invitation to abandon the safety of the space station and get real. He’d go there, but she had to come with him. “Uh-uh. My turn.” He took the drive leading to the resort. “What do you do for a living, besides have meetings, adhere to budgets, and send emails?”
“I work for my family’s business.”
The main entrance came into view. He pulled up to the front and stopped. “Which is…?”
She stared at the pristine glass doors of the hotel, watching as they opened for some guests and then slid shut, obscuring the sun-washed lobby behind scrolled letters that read St. Sebastian Resorts. Finally, she turned to him. “I’d rather not say.”
Well, hell. So much for confidences. He wanted to slam his head against the steering wheel and beat some sense into his brain. Short-term. No matter how intense things got between them during their week of fun, they would walk away. He would walk away. “You don’t have to say, Czarina. I’ve figured it out.”
Her brows lifted. “Have you?”
“Russian mafia, right? Don’t answer. I understand how this works. You could tell me, but then you’d have to kill me.”
Suspicion eased into relief. “What gave me away?”
He snagged two fingers in the neckline of her shirt and pulled her close. “All your contradictions. Guileless eyes, but guarded lips. I don’t know. There’s just something dangerous about you.”
The guileless eyes rolled, and the guarded lips twitched. “Oh yeah, I’m dangerous.”
He closed the space between them and brushed his lips over hers, withstanding the torturous softness and the small but powerful shocks of lust. He endured the velvet of her tongue, the edge of her teeth, and the memory of that hot mouth sucking his fingers while she shivered and came. “This mouth is definitely dangerous,” he murmured as he relinquished it. “Tomorrow I’m not going to give you my fingers to suck like a pacifier as your orgasm rips through you. Tomorrow my cock will do the honors. Would you like that, Czarina?”
The mouth in question trembled open on a little moan, and her eyelids fluttered. “What time?”
He had the day off, and he didn’t intend to waste a minute of it. “Nine a.m. What I have in mind is going to take all day. Can you swing it?”
“Yes,” she replied with gratifying speed. “I’ll meet you here.”
The valet approached at that moment. “Parking, sir?”
A glace at the das
hboard clock made him wince, but he thought about her knee and the distance to her villa. “Can I leave it here for five minutes? I want to walk her to her room.”
The valet nodded at the same time she said, “That’s not necessary.” To demonstrate, she hopped out. “I don’t want to make you late. See you tomorrow.” With a wink and a wave, she walked toward the entrance. Only a sharp eye would notice she favored the uninjured knee—and that could be the fault of the Band-Aid more than any lingering pain from the scrape.