“I couldn’t sleep.”
He snorted. “This’ll do the job.”
“What are you talking about? This is a great movie.”
“A great movie?” He snorted again and gave her a sidelong glance. “You don’t have to flatter me, you know.”
She rolled her eyes. “Lord knows your ego is big enough already. But I’m serious. I love this movie.”
“Okay, that’s enough lies for one night.” He reached for the remote on the coffee table.
“No!” Natasha flung herself across his lap and slapped the remote out of his hand. “I’m watching it.”
His eyes sparked with interest. A warning sign, but she wasn’t fast enough to scramble away. And really, she didn’t want to.
“What do you like about this movie?” he asked in a low voice, leaning into her.
“Um . . .” Her mind went blank. What movie? The video on her laptop? Oh, wait, no. The movie on TV. “Uh, the dancing.”
“My dancing?”
“Just . . . in general. All the dancing. By everyone.”
His eyes narrowed, like he knew she was full of shit. “If you were that desperate for the real thing you could have just asked. You didn’t have to find me on TV.” His grin was wicked, his eyes flickering with the reflected light of the TV. She pressed herself back against the thick, cushioned arm of the sofa, but he crawled over her, blanketing her with his body. He wore only a pair of boxer briefs that did nothing to hide his arousal.
On screen, young Dimitri danced shirtless with Greta, larger than life with his six-pack abs and ability to dominate a scene. But the real Dimitri was so much more overwhelming, not to mention bigger, stronger, and older. Dark knowledge danced in his eyes as his hands molded over her hips, waist, ribs. In a split-second, he’d divested her of her sweatshirt.
His chuckle was husky. “You’re getting off on this aren’t you?”
Time to play stupid. “On what?”Carajo,her voice had gone breathy. She breathed in the scent of him, bit back a moan.
“Watching me on TV, seducing another woman.”
“I like the story,” she answered primly, earning a full-out laugh. Because he’d pushed her thighs apart, the vibrations of his belly pressed right against her most sensitive area, and she sucked in a gasp. His arms caged her in, but instead of feeling trapped, she felt supported. Secure. When she was in his arms, she almost believed everything would be all right, and she could have all the things she’d ever wanted but thought she’d never have.
Except it was all a lie. She lowered her lashes, unable to gaze upon either Dimitri—the real one, or the one on TV. This was the danger of being with him. He lured her into a false sense of security, but in the harsh light of day, she was still who she’d always been—a poor Puerto Rican girl from the Bronx whose own mother had never found it in her heart to love her.
Dimitri’s lips on her arm were a welcome distraction. His mouth on her skin, his closeness, the warmth of his body and scent seeping into hers—were better than the road her thoughts wanted to go down. He shifted higher over her, bringing his heavy cock against her pelvis. She bit back a groan.
When he leaned in to kiss her, she’d already made up her mind that she would let him, but he stopped and tilted his head to look at her in the light from the TV.
“You look tired,Kroshka.”
He’d called her this a few times before, usually after sex or when he was drunk. She didn’t know what it meant, but the term of endearment melted her heart a little every time he said it. She held those memories to her in the dark, when she was feeling weakest and most alone.
“I am tired.”
“So why are you awake in the middle of the night watching me on TV? The studio sent me a box of DVDs. You can watch anytime you want.”
She suppressed a nervous giggle. She already had the movie on DVD. “It’s not that.”
“What, then?”
This line of questioning skirted too close to things she didn’t want to discuss. She twined her arms around his neck and arched against him. “Why do you want to know?”
It worked. His lids drooped, and he rocked his hips against her, drawing a gasp from her lips.
“Tell me,” he growled.
