The Russian's Acquistion

“Since you said please…” He stepped closer and brushed a light kiss onto her neck.

She shivered as his lips moved under her jaw and up her cheek to her temple.

It was lovely, but she felt unsteady. She set her hands on his hard chest to ground herself, eyes involuntarily closing as she appreciated the patience he was showing, touching butterfly kisses all over her face, pressing the corner of her mouth and drifting away. Giving her the time to absorb each caress, the flutter of reaction it raised, and even anticipate the next.

Before she realized what she was doing, she unconsciously tried to follow him for a real kiss. His grip in her hair made turning her face impossible. The next time his heated breath flowed over her lips, she parted her own in invitation, but he left again. A whimper of dismay escaped her and she realized with a sting of uneasiness that she wasn’t setting the pace at all. He was in control.

She ran restless hands over his chest. It was unfamiliar but thrilling. Hard muscle rippled with power beneath soft cashmere as she tried unsuccessfully to convey what she wanted from him.

“Aleksy.” That throaty tone did not belong to her.

“Do you want my mouth on yours?” he asked in a husky growl.

She did. For all her misgivings and apprehensions, her lips were hot and sensitized, the waiting unbearable. “Yes.”

He rubbed her lips lightly with his own.

A needy ache gathered hotly between her thighs. “More,” she breathed.

“Show me what you want,” he commanded.

A frustrated sound escaped her. She didn’t know! Or did she? She wanted a proper, openmouthed, hot, swirling kiss. As crazy as it sounded, she craved the mindlessness he inflicted on her.

Lifting, she tried to show him, crushing her swollen, aching mouth against his, clinging with her lips and delicately invading with the tip of her tongue.

He stiffened.

She was doing it wrong. Failure and rejection instantly loomed, even more horrifying than the swamp of sexual excitement. She instinctively tried to pull away, but his arm tightened and she felt the answering lick of his tongue against hers. A bolt of sweet lightning flashed through her, a fierce relief followed by a warning of a storm.

She stilled, tried to pull herself together, but he boldly took possession of her the way she yearned for, sealing their damp lips in a tight fit and thrusting his tongue against hers, spiraling her into the exciting world he seemed determined to pull her into.

Of their own volition, her hands crept up his shoulders, linking behind his neck to draw him down, encouraging him by diving her fingers into his short hair.

His arm stayed locked across her back, but he wasn’t pressing her into him. She did that, not even realizing she was doing it until she felt herself plastered against him. Her dress was open, she realized, but she didn’t care. Her body badly needed the pressure of his chest against breasts that seemed to swell and reach toward him, aching. A moan of longing escaped her.

“What do you want? This?” He drew one of her arms down and slid her hand beneath the soft knit, guiding her touch up his hot chest.

Startled by this new realm, she explored with rapt intrigue. His skin was like sunbaked satin, his chest hair flat and softly abrasive, his nipple small and pebble sharp against her curious fingertips. She splayed her hand, petting, fascinated, and learned quickly when he taught her the pressure he liked. She circled and flicked, feeling him jerk. Wrong again?

His arm at her back pinched her closer. “Do you want me to do that to you?” His head dipped and he caught her earlobe between his lips, sucking and sending a shocking streak of pure excitement flashing into her loins. “This too?”

She groaned at the thought of his mouth on her breast and curled her fingers against his chest, raking his nipple lightly with her fingernail. “Yes.”

His breath hissed in. “Take off your dress, then,” he ground out, loosening his hold on her and backing away.

Shaking, she dragged her hand free, grazing his abdomen on the way, feeling his stomach contract beneath her touch. He was remarkable. This state was remarkable, feeling all hot and fascinated. Alive.

It struck her that he would forever hold a place in her memory for this. The indelible connection was already bittersweet enough to make the backs of her eyes sting. Part of her screamed, Run away. The bond was temporary and would hurt to break, but she craved it all the same. Desperately. So much so that she found herself nudging the straps of her dress off her shoulders. They fell down her arms and warm silk dropped into a dark puddle over her shoes.