“Had my reasons.”
“Were they good? Your reasons?”
“Thought so at the time.” In the middle of the room, he looked away and turned back to her. Ivan rubbed a hand over his eyes and spoke wearily, “What can I do for you, Uma?”
Something came over her. That inner voyeur, once identified, had taken on a life of its own. Here, with a half-naked Ivan, its pull was strong, deep in her bones.
I want to see you.
She wondered what it would take to get him to pull his underwear off.
“Take off your shorts.”
Uma thought the words and then they were out, charging the air between them. Positively zipping with energy. A barometer in that room would have swung wildly in both directions, unsure whether to settle onStormyorElectric. Either would have suited her fine.
She was fierce, wide awake, as she watched first surprise, then awareness overtake Ivan’s features. His chest rose and fell, the sounds coming from him grown harsh.
He was measuring her, she could tell, trying to figure her out. She saw the exact moment he decided to give up.
Smart man. It was a lost cause.
“Come closer,” he said. So Uma could see him better? So he could get a clearer look at her? So he could touch her? She wasn’t sure she could take him touching her, but she gave him three small steps.
Still a ways from the rumpled bed in the corner, he stood beside his anvil, shirtless in the half-light. She wished he’d pick up the hammer and make the sparks fly again. She wished for bared teeth to go with the dark smattering of fur across his chest and arrowing down into his waistband. Uma wanted him feral, a beast she could tame. Would he bite her if she let him?
Her gaze slid down his body, taking in the long lines marred by gentle whorls of dark hair and the occasional scar. Thick thigh muscles wrapped in white, white skin. Their heft excited her. Her nostrils flared with some strange, animalistic desire to bitehim.
Oh,that.Thatnotion was right.
“Will you take your shirt off?” he asked.
She shook her head. “No.” It didn’t even sound like her voice—harder, surer.
A strangled little half sigh escaped his mouth, and Uma felt for him; she really did. Only she wanted so badly to see him that she couldn’t let him off the hook. So she waited.
And then he did it. Throwing his head back to look down his nose at her in that defiant way that big men have—professional athletes in the stadium, soldiers on the battlefield—he curled his fingers around the elastic clinging to his hips.
Without blinking, Uma stared, panting lightly. Nothing could have pulled her away.
For once, she wasn’t the self-conscious one. For once, she was in the position of power, the watcher instead of the watched. Was it wrong to enjoy it? Probably. She nearly put her hand out to stop him. She shouldn’t demean him like this.
He smiled. A strange hybrid of a smile—a perfect mix, much like the man. The kind of smile a gentle monster would give. Half-sweet and half utterly wicked.
Uma fell into the moment headfirst, drunk off stronger things than booze. She squinted and bit her lip in concentration.
She’d done strip shows for Joey—pathetic seductions after a few drinks on a Friday night. He’d enjoyed her embarrassment, probably more than the nudity itself. The bastard had gotten off on her powerlessness.
This was different.
Uma commanded, and Ivan complied. He could overpower her at any moment butchosenot to. She was drunk off his acquiescence.
The shorts made a sound as they dragged over his skin, a slight rasping against hair, followed by the creaking of bones as he bent to tug them off. None of it was particularly graceful—his grace was reserved for the anvil—but it was lovely. Perhaps even lovelier for the lack of finesse.
And his body. Lord, his body. From the irresistible blend of uncertainty and cockiness in his eyes to the hard curves of his chest and the sleek line of his flank, he was beautiful. Below the waist, his penis—no, hiscock—rose, half-hard, from a dark thatch of hair.
An answering weight settled in Uma’s belly, making her panties uncomfortably wet. She liked that he was already aroused, the fact thatthis situationmade him hot.
“You like me telling you what to do,” she said in a voice clogged with desire. It wasn’t a question.
