As Grigory fell into step beside us, he was looking directly at me. At first, I ignored it and focused on Konstantin as he hustled me along. Why was he in such a hurry? But every time I glanced at Grigory, he was still staring. Shit! Could he sense something different about me?
We swept inside and into a tiled, double-height hall. A grand staircase rose in front of us, storybook-huge, its polished wooden banisters as thick as my thigh. I had a crazy urge to slide down them. Flanking the stairs were a pair of antique vases, each as big as me and probably worth hundreds of thousands of dollars. I did my best not to stare at everything.
The doors closed behind us. Konstantin swung me around to face him. I looked up at him... and gulped. That look was back, diamond-hard but scorching, sending waves of raw heat thrumming down through my body to my groin until I wanted to twist and writhe and melt into a puddle on the floor. Now I knew why he’d been in a hurry to get inside. He’d needed to know I was safe within this fortress of a house... because then, he could enjoy me.
He put his hands on my shoulders, the heat of him throbbing into me through my dress. Then he slid his hands under my arms and smoothed down my body in one slow, continuous movement. His fingers hooked around my back and the heels of his hands brushed the soft sides of my breasts as they passed. The room went so quiet, I could hear my intake of breath. He followed the curve of me in at the waist, thumbs brushing either side of my navel, then out, over my hips, the warmth of his hands soaking into me and making me squirm as he passed my groin. He went as far as he could reach, right down to the hem of my dress, his fingers toying with the backs of my stockinged thighs, and only then, reluctantly, did he stop.
As he brought his hands back up, I felt them twitch and his breathing went tight. I glanced down. Christina’s dress was tight on my bust and I was showing a lot of cleavage. He was staring right at it and—his hands twitched again, squeezing my shoulders. And he’s having to resist the urge to just fill his hands with my breasts. I went weak inside.
He used a knuckle under my chin to gently tip my head back and looked me in the eye. His gaze was clouded with lust. “You’ve changed,” he muttered thickly.
Oh God. A chill rippled through me. It didn’t reduce the heat, just made me more aware of it: peaks of scalding lust alternating with troughs of icy fear.
Konstantin frowned. He gripped my chin and slowly turned my head from side to side, studying me. “There’s something different about you.”
Shit!
The squeak of a shoe sole on tiles, off to one side. I whipped my head around, startled. I’d forgotten there was anyone else in the room. Grigory and two other guards were still there and Grigory was glaring right at me. He knows!
My eyes snapped back to Konstantin, my heart hammering. His frown grew deeper and the fear slammed through me, like being dropped into ice water. But then he slid his hand through my hair, every brush of his fingertips sending pleasure fluttering through my body. Just like at the airport, I felt drunk, my brain bathed in adrenaline one second, endorphins the next. Was he about to kiss me or kill me?
He gave a sort of dismissive hmph, a quick shake of his head...and pushed me away. I went staggering back across the tiles, eyes screwed shut in fear, waiting for a bullet to rip through me—
My back whumped against the thick wooden post at the bottom of one of the banisters. And when I opened my eyes in shock, I saw Konstantin marching towards me, his eyes narrowed with need.
He hadn’t been pushing me away. He just wanted me up against something solid.
I didn’t even have time to draw a breath before his lips were on me, pressing, searching, drawing me up onto tiptoes to meet him. My head was tipped right back, my hair cushioning my head from the hard wood. He grabbed my hips and then slid his palms up my body, bringing the hem of my dress with them. I could feel the expensive fabric sliding higher and higher, the cool air of the room wafting against lacy stocking top and then bare skin. I felt my cheeks start to color: there were still three guards watching this. But the embarrassment evaporated as it met the greater heat of the kiss.
It was a dance. At first it was between two practiced partners, open-mouthed and hungry. Each brush of his tongue against my upper lip, each soft nip of his teeth against my lower was a beat in a rising rhythm. I followed him without even being aware of it, molding my body to his, grabbing his upper arms and exploring that gorgeous, hard upper lip with my softer ones.