White Nights (White Nights 1)

The simple touch on my wrist alone turns me on more than anything my ex-boyfriend had ever done, and Alex knows it. He knows how to seduce a woman, and he’s fully aware of my reaction to him.

“Of course,” he murmurs, finding the sensitive spot between my thumb and index finger and pressing on it lightly. “I can’t remember the last time I wanted a woman so badly.”

I bite my lip to contain a moan of pleasure at what he’s doing to me. I can’t believe how erotic simple hand-to-hand contact is with him. What will it be like when he gets me into bed?

Because he will. There’s no denying it any longer, no doubt in my mind about how the night will end. Whatever my original reservations were, whatever my fears, none of those reasons matter now. Not when he makes me feel like this. Not when my entire body cries out for his touch.

“What would you like for the main course?” he asks softly, still doing something incredibly pleasurable to my palm. “Or do you wish to skip it and go straight to dessert?”

“Dessert, please,” I say on an exhale.

I’ve eaten more than enough, and anything that brings the evening closer to its inevitable conclusion is a good thing. I’ve never wanted anything in my life as much as I want Alex right now.

Smiling, he releases my hand and signals the waiter, who nods and disappears into the kitchen.

“He’ll have dessert for us shortly,” Alex says, turning back to me. “In the meantime, could I interest you in a dance?”

“A dance?”

He gestures toward the stage where a band of musicians has appeared seemingly from nowhere.

“Live music?” I can’t help but be impressed. “Sure.”

He rises from his seat, walks around the table, and courteously offers me his hand.

Heart pounding, I place my hand in his and let him lead me to the dance floor. The musicians strike up a slow tune I’ve never heard, and a female voice croons something in Russian.

At the empty area near the stage, he pulls me close, clasping my hand in his and placing a palm on the small of my back. The smell of his cologne is clean and masculine—cardamom and something spicy. As we sway to the music, I look up, struck again by our size difference and the strength of the hard body pressed against mine. Even with the two-inch heels on my boots, I barely reach his chin, and the breadth of his palm covers most of my lower back. His hips are at the level of my middle, his erection pressing against my stomach. My nipples pebble in response, reacting to his nearness and obvious desire for me.

Staring up at him, I moisten my dry lips, and my pulse speeds further as his gaze tracks the path of my tongue. The air between us grows thick and heated, like the blood pumping through my veins. As our eyes meet again, all I can hear is the uneven rhythm of my breath… and then he bends his head and kisses me.

His lips are smooth, warm, and soft. Despite the demanding hardness pressing into my belly, he kisses me gently and patiently, as though we have all the time in the world. As though we’re not burning inside, consumed by a lust so intense I’d gladly climb him right here and now, no foreplay necessary.

He traces the seam of my lips with his tongue and slips inside to stroke and caress the interior of my mouth. The taste of vodka on his breath adds to the intoxicating sensations coursing through my body. Moaning, I wrap my arms around his neck and kiss him back, sucking his lower lip into my mouth and biting down on it lightly.

He groans and presses even closer, burying one hand in my hair to hold me in place as he deepens the kiss.

In a foggy corner of my brain, an alarm sounds, briefly penetrating the haze of desire clouding my mind. The musicians, the waiters… Pushing on his shoulders, I tear my lips away.

“Wait, Alex,” I whisper, trying to catch my breath. “Not here.”

His voice is low and rough with frustration as he releases me. “I know.” Heat emanates from his large body. He’s just as turned on as I am, if not more. “I didn’t mean to get so carried away.”

“Why don’t we get out of here?”

Did those words just come out of my mouth? I’ve never been so bold or forward with a man, but I seem to have no shame with Alex.

His eyes darken, his nostrils flaring. “Yes, why don’t we?”

Before the touch of his hands on my skin has turned cold, he’s already guiding me toward the exit, one arm wrapped possessively around my shoulders.

5

As soon as we’re outside, Alex shepherds me toward the black car standing at the curb. The driver, Yuri, is waiting inside.