“They say fear and desire are like two nerves wrapped around one another,” he murmurs. “Twist one, the other reacts.”
“I’m not afraid of you.”
That’s a lie, one I sense he sees right through. He has me pegged. My fear and desire for him are, just as he said, twisted together like wire. I don’t know where one ends and the other begins.
His gaze meets mine, pinning me in place. “You should be.”
In an instant the distance between us shrinks. I swallow hard, forcing a wry tilt to my mouth. “And yet here I sit, dutifully delivering your paperwork.”
“Bravery,” he says, “or the world’s worst survival instinct.” He snaps the folder shut and sets it aside. “Either way, I admire your commitment.”
Another sip steadies the drum in my chest. Warm whiskey, warm fire, the scent of his cedar and smoke threading between. Every glance becomes its own conversation. Breath fans between us, growing thick as molasses.
He tips his head. “Hands still shaking?”
“A bit,” I admit.
“Good.” Amusement flickers in his eyes. “Allow me to steady them.”
He closes the bit of distance left between us in a single, unhurried step and slides the empty tumbler from my fingers. He sets it on a side table before his hands come back for mine, enveloping them completely.
His skin is rough, calloused in a way that speaks of hard work—unusual for a man whose deals are struck with pens and pistols. Instinct tells me to retreat, break contact before the spark becomes a flame.
I ignore it. I stare at the improbable sight of his big, powerful hands cocooning my smaller ones.
“You have every right to fear,” he says, voice low. “After what you’ve survived.” His thumb strokes the inside of my wrist in a lazy circle. “But not right now. Not with me.”
I know exactly what he’s seeing in my eyes, echoes of panic, grief, and uncertainty. What he doesn’t see is the raw want beneath it. My pulse jumps, panties becoming slick at the lightest pressure of his touch.
“To be honest,” I reply, “I don’t know how I’m supposed to feel.”
His smiles, half-dangerous, half-reassuring. “Then let me show you howIfeel.”
The first brush of his lips is exploratory—almost polite—but the restraint lasts a single breath. He deepens the kiss, claiming my mouth with an urgency that borders on feral.
He tastes so goddamn good.
I gasp, and he growls, the sound vibrating straight to my core.
Large hands slide to my hips, thumbs digging into soft flesh as he pulls me up from the chair and presses me against his body.I feel his cock hard and unyielding against my abdomen through his trousers. The contact sends a course of heat through me, a sense of want.
He breaks the kiss and breathes against my cheek.“Feel that? Not fear,kotenok. Hunger.”
“Yes,” I manage, the word a shaky exhale.
I wrap my arms around his shoulders, feeling hard planes of muscle beneath fine cotton. He lifts me just enough so that my heels tip off the rug, and I cling to him, dizzy with the effort it takes not to dissolve.
One palm travels down, fingers splaying over the curve of my back, then lower, cupping my buttocks. He presses rhythmically, coaxing my hips to rock forward into his groin. Friction sparks—delicious and impossible to resist. I moan against his throat, every instinct shouting at me to run.
His answering growl is pure satisfaction. He slides two knuckles over my center in slow, deliberate strokes that make me arch. Cloth against cloth shouldn’t feel this good, but each drag sends a bright pulse through my nerves. My head tips back, firelight fluttering behind my eyelids as I lightly moan.
“That’s it,” he murmurs, mouth grazing my jaw. “Let me hear you.”
Another stroke, firmer this time, and I gasp, hips bucking helplessly for more pressure. He obliges, rolling his knuckles until I’m panting into the collar of his shirt, fingers digging into the broad expanse of his back.
My world narrows. All thoughts dissolve—there is only the relentless promise in his touch and the realization that I have never, ever felt wanted like this.
His knuckles drag another shudder from me, each stroke a deliberate theft of my sanity. His eyes, dark and sensual, hold mine, daring me to break contact. Suddenly, his hand shifts, fingers slipping beneath the waistband of my slacks, breaching the thin barrier of my panties.
