Page 12 of Betrothed
He offered the words as if challenging me to prove him wrong. “Nice try, but I don’t think you know women very well.”
Kirill snapped his fingers, his entire face lit up by the easy conversation. “Women require big, strong alpha men to handle all the dangerous work.” He surprised me by being animated. Holding his arm out and flexing like Popeye would do.
“Do you blame us?” I purred. “Big, strong, dangerous men do make for more powerful…” I stopped myself before going down a road that would only lead to the fires of hell.
“More powerful… Finish your sentence.”
The command in his voice was not to be denied. “More powerful lovers.”
“Ah. That is very true.”
“Are you suggesting you could be in the running?”
“For the part in the adventure movies or in real life?” Every time he asked a question, he picked another lock. I’d told him silly things no one had ever bothered asking me about before.
Including the only man I’d considered special in my life. That had been a long time ago.
“Maybe both.”
Heat spiked once again, tickling sensations crawling up my neck. When his nostrils flared, I concentrated on the last oyster on theplate. The selection he’d made had been fabulous, keeping the hangry monster satisfied.
However, the woman inside, the one who’d shut down any concept of passion as well as anything emotional was suddenly awake and more in need than before. How unfortunate since I was in an airport.
“I guess you would need to find out,” he said with the same control in his voice, but with more of an invitation.
He was enjoying the easy banter exactly the way I had. No pressure. No lies. No pretense. Just two strangers acquiescing to intense hunger.
With the turn to flirting, every inch of my body was aching in a way I’d thought impossible to feel again.
His breathing was uneven as I picked up the oyster shell, my halfhearted offer for him to take the last one pushed aside as if no food could replace the physical torment we were inflicting on each other.
My thong was damp, my nipples aching from the constant flickering of lace every time I moved.
Even as I allowed the last oyster to slide down my throat, every slight movement he made displayed the increasing attraction.
As I dragged my tongue across my bottom lip, catching the drops of juice, he took and held a deep breath. I tugged my napkin from my lap, covering my mouth as I chewed.
While I wouldn’t admit to anyone the filthy thoughts in my mind, I couldn’t lie about how easy it would be for me to forget all my good girl convictions. Alas, we both had a flight to catch.
Another fantasy unfulfilled.
His chest rose and fell, his brow pinched as he watched me intently.
“Oysters,” I murmured while toying with an empty shell, fingering the edges without looking Kirill in the eyes.
“A powerful aphrodisiac,” Kirill said more in passing. Yet he was fully concentrating on every movement I made, every breath I took.
The handsome Russian was that consuming and in control. He made doing so appear effortless, including how he refilled my wine at just the right moment. Or when he offered a thoughtful remark at just the right time.
Never interrupting.
Always locking eyes with mine.
We’d spent the better part of two hours together, not only because apparently we enjoyed each other’s company but also because my flight had been delayed by forty minutes.
I hadn’t bothered to ask him about his travel plans, far too interested in challenging him on everything from poetry and music to politics and great thriller movies.
While no subject seemed off limits, we also hadn’t broached anything personal about our lives, our professions, or our countries of origin.
