Midnight Days (White Nights 2)

“Sure,” he says slowly. “Why not?”

“Okay.”

I move to the left, all but running in my haste to escape his presence. At the same moment, he takes a step to let me pass. The breath leaves my lungs with an oomph as our bodies collide for a second time. Like earlier, he catches me, testing my balance with his hands on my waist. I should pull away, but I don’t. He should let me go, but he holds on.

Carefully, as if not wanting to scare me with a sudden movement, he wraps his arms around my body and pulls me close. His size and power envelop me, sheltering me from the harshness of our reality. How I’ve missed the warmth and safety of his embrace. Some of the tension leaves my body as I press my cheek against his chest and absorb the welcome relief of the security he offers. I didn’t realize how much I needed the comfort of his touch until now.

Gripping my chin, he tilts my face. When he lowers his head, I don’t turn away. I close my eyes and do the scariest thing I’ve ever done in my life. I step off into the abyss and tumble into the darkness—for better or for worse.

“Katyusha,” he says in a rough voice, dragging his lips over my jaw to the corner of my mouth.

The kiss he plants there is dry and light. I’ve missed how warm and hard his chest feels against mine. I’ve missed dragging my hands through the soft strands of his short hair. Wrapping my arms around his neck, I act on the fantasy. A groan escapes from deep in his throat as I close my fingers and pull his hair gently in the process. The pressure of his hand on my lower back increases, arching my body as he draws me to him and rubs against me.

The hardness that grows against my hip makes me utter an involuntary moan.

“Yes,” he growls, cupping my ass and pressing me tighter while he spears the fingers of his other hand through my hair.

In contrast to the roughness with which he palms my ass cheek, his hold on my nape is tender. Burrowing my face in his neck, I inhale deeply. His skin smells like a seductive mix of cardamom and musky man. His stubble pricks my lips when I bring them to his jaw. Trailing my hands over his shoulders and down to his chest, I trace the grooves that define his muscles. Under the solid slab of strength beneath my palms, his heart pounds with a wild beat. His callused palm catches on the wool of my dress as he smooths a hand down the outside of my thigh.

Skimming his fingertips over my nape, he brings his hand around and folds his fingers around my neck. The touch is possessive and tender. My breathing quickens as he aligns our lips, letting a second of anticipation pass before he presses our mouths together.

Fireworks explode in my belly. The house, the city, Russia, why we’re here—everything vanishes as he parts my lips and slips his tongue inside my mouth. He drags in a breath, stealing my air. In response, I gasp into our kiss.

He sweeps his tongue over mine, teasing and testing. When I sag in his hold, all but melting against him, he pulls me closer by the gentle hold on my neck and kisses me with skillful precision. The strokes of his tongue are meticulous, designed to arouse, and he succeeds.

Every inch of my skin is on fire. The heat between my legs turns liquid. My breasts become sensitive and heavy. The way my nipples brush over his chest through the layers of my bra and dress makes me clench my thighs in need.

“Kiska,” he groans between kisses, bending his knees and pulling me between his legs.

His erection rubs against me, stimulating just the right spot. Pinpricks of pleasure pierce my clit through my underwear. If he carries on like this, he’s going to make me come right here in the hallway.

“Alex,” I breathe, pushing on his chest.

He tightens his hold on my ass and neck, preventing me from pulling away, but he does slow the sensual assault of his mouth.

Brushing his lips over my ear, he murmurs, “I need this, Katyusha. How much, you have no idea.”

I need him too. I was a fool to think I could fight him. He warned me it was a game I couldn’t win, and as always, he was right. I’m a second away from surrendering.

“Let me take care of you,” he says in a husky voice. Seductively, his soft lips press the words against my ear. “Let me remind you how good we are together.”

I don’t need a reminder. I remember only too well.

At my silence, he straightens to look down at me. The intention that sparks in his eyes is no longer out of control. It’s more calculated but no less heated. The steely blue pools harden with determination as he holds my gaze, measuring my reaction while he slowly drags his fingers over my collarbone and down my chest. When he reaches the upper curve of my breast, my breath catches. Satisfaction bleeds into his expression. He studies my face with hooded eyes as he continues south, brushing his knuckles ever-so-lightly over my nipple. The tip pebbles into a hard point. Goosebumps run over my body, contracting my skin from the crown of my head to my toes.