I didn't want to change my mind.
His bedroom was larger than the guest room I'd been staying in, dominated by a massive bed with dark linens and a view of the city that stretched for miles. He'd left the curtains open, and Manhattan glittered beyond the glass like a scattered handful of diamonds.
He closed the door behind us, and the click of the latch was somehow louder than it should have been. Final. Definitive.
"Keira." His voice was low, rough at the edges. "Last chance to walk away."
I turned to face him. He was standing with his back against the door, watching me with an intensity that made my skin prickle. The charming mask was gone. What remained was something rawer. Hungrier.
"I don't want to walk away," I said.
"Good."
He moved toward me, and there was nothing gentle about it. One moment, he was across the room; the next, his hands were in my hair, tilting my head back, his mouth claiming mine with a ferocity that stole my breath.
This wasn't like the kiss in the kitchen—tentative, questioning, both of us testing the waters. This was a statement. A declaration. His tongue swept against mine, demanding entrance, and I opened for him without thinking, my hands fisting in the front of his shirt.
He kissed me like he was starving for it. Like he'd been holding himself back for weeks and had finally snapped the leash. His teeth caught my lower lip, tugging, and the sharp sting of it made me gasp. He swallowed the sound, deepening the kiss, one hand still tangled in my hair while the other slid down my spine to grip my hip.
I could feel him hard against my stomach. The evidence of how much he wanted this—wanted me—sent a rush of heat through my core that made my knees unsteady.
He walked me backward until my legs hit the edge of the bed. I sat down hard, looking up at him, and he stood over me for a moment, his chest heaving, his eyes dark with want.
"I've been thinking about this," he said. "Since that first session. Sitting in your office, watching you ask questions, wondering what it would take to make you lose that perfect composure."
"And now?"
"Now I'm going to find out."
He pushed me back onto the bed, following me down, his body covering mine. The weight of him was overwhelming—solid muscle, controlled strength, the heat of him seeping through my clothes. I arched up against him instinctively, seeking friction, and he groaned, a low sound that vibrated through my chest.
His mouth found my neck, teeth grazing the sensitive skin below my ear. I gasped, my hands clutching at his shoulders, and felt him smile against my throat.
"There," he murmured. "That's what I wanted."
He bit down—not hard enough to hurt, but enough to make me jolt beneath him—and then soothed the sting with his tongue. The combination of sensations made me dizzy. Made me want more.
His hands went to the buttons of my blouse, and he worked them open with a patience that belied the hunger in his eyes. Each button revealed more skin, and he followed the path with his mouth—kissing the hollow of my throat, the swell of my collarbone, the valley between my breasts.
"Rodion—"
"Patience."
"I don't have any patience."
"Then you'll learn."
He pulled back long enough to strip off his own shirt, and I took the opportunity to look at him. Really look. Broad shoulders, defined chest, the kind of body that came from discipline rather than vanity. Scars too—a puckered line along his ribs, a starburst of white tissue on his shoulder. Evidence of a life I was only beginning to understand.
I reached up and traced the scar on his shoulder. "What happened here?"
"Knife fight. Fifteen years ago. I was young and stupid."
"And this one?" My fingers moved to his ribs.
"Bullet graze. Less stupid that time, just unlucky." He caught my hand, pressed a kiss to my palm. "We all have scars. Some are just more visible than others."
He lowered himself again, his mouth finding the curve of my breast above my bra. I arched into him, wanting more, wanting everything. He obliged, reaching behind me to unhook the clasp with practiced ease, pulling the fabric away until I was bare beneath him.
