Scoundrel's Honor (Russian Connection 3) - Page 61
“Emma?”
“It is fine, Leonida,” she assured her companion, wishing she felt as confident as she sounded.
Not that she feared Dimitri would hurt her. At least not physically. But that did not lessen the danger.
“I will be in my rooms just down the corridor if you have need of me,” Leonida said, moving toward the doorway. She paused at Dimitri’s side. “Take care.”
Dimitri’s lips twisted. “Your warning comes far too late, Your Grace.”
Leonida chuckled. “Good.”
“And I thought your husband vindictive.”
“We are kindred spirits. It is a rare gift that Stefan and I were nearly too stubborn to appreciate.” Leonida glanced toward Emma, her expression impossible to read. “I would hope you would be wiser.”
With a cryptic smile Leonida left the room, closing the door behind her.
Alone with Dimitri, Emma swallowed the lump in her throat, shivering as his golden gaze seared over her body. Suddenly, she was acutely reminded of lying beneath him, his slender fingers tangled in her hair as he urgently made love to her.
“Is there something you need?”
He prowled forward. “You.”
Instinctively, she backed away, her heart galloping at a mad pace as she bumped into the wall.
“Dimitri, no.”
His hands slammed against the wall on either side of her shoulders.
“Why did you insist we have separate rooms?” he growled.
“I told you before we left your ship that our…”
“Affair?”
Absurdly, Emma found herself unable to say the word. As if by refusing to name the savage awareness that pulsed between them she could somehow banish the sensations.
“I told you it was at an end.”
“And I disagreed.” His eyes darkened as he buried his face in the curve of her neck. “Mmm. I missed you today.”
Her hands lifted to his chest, her fingers grasping the lapels of his jacket as he nuzzled the hollow behind her ear.
“It was on your orders that I was forced to waste the entire day acquiring a new wardrobe,” she complained, reminding herself of all the reasons she should be slapping this man’s face rather than melting beneath his skillful touch.
“Never a waste.” He pulled back to study her silver gown. “You are…breathtaking. Although I would prefer less of you on display. I suppose this was Leonida’s notion?”
Before she could respond, he returned to his delicate caresses, his lips tracing a path of kisses down the line of her collarbone.
Her lashes fluttered downward, her body longing to press against him in silent invitation.
“Dimitri, we are expected downstairs for dinner,” she forced herself to mutter.
He reached the edge of her bodice, her nipples tightening in anticipation as his warm breath brushed her skin.
“Huntley is besotted with his wife. It is quite likely dinner will be delayed.”
She shuddered, a soft moan of surrender escaping her lips. Who was she trying to deceive? Her mind might be convinced that sharing Dimitri’s bed was a dangerous notion, but her body was already aching for his touch.
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