Page 239 of Lethal Obsession

“I know.” He nods. “That’s why I got straight on a plane, instead of calling. I knew nothing would feel real until I could do this.” He tilts my face up to his and lowers his mouth to mine.

It’s sweet at first, almost still, and I stand on tiptoe, craving more. Then his hands slide into my chignon and he slants his mouth down, groaning. I arch toward him, opening beneath his kiss, allowing it to steal into my soul and tell me everything I need to know.

His grief and fury when he left.

The savagery and tension of the past days.

The sudden exhilaration of success.

The fierce, incessant longing for this.

I can read it all in his mouth on mine, in the silent, profound communication we’ve always shared, where touch speaks louder than any words ever could.

By the time he stops kissing me I’m sitting on the low stone wall, the ocean behind me, my legs wrapped around his waist and my sundress rucked up over my thighs.

“I need you.”

“We can’t stay out here,” I manage. “People will come.”

“Then tell me where your room is.” He slides my hand down to the rock-hard evidence of his arousal, and I gasp. Gathering me against him, Alexei plucks me off the wall and heads for the villa.

“That way.” I point, my lips touching his throat, and he groans as he kicks the door open.

He pauses only to ensure it’s locked before he spins me around, holding me against the wall. He takes my mouth again, deeper and harder this time. His hands slide beneath my ass, rolling me against his surging cock.

“I thought about this every moment I was away.” He holds himself hard against me, forcing us both to savor the sweet torture of waiting. He pushes the strap of my dress down, closing his mouth over my nipple.

Fuck.

“Me too.” I clutch his hair, writhing against him as his mouth slowly takes me apart.

“These literally haunted my dreams,” he says roughly, pausing to lift my other breast over my dress and shift his attention to it.

“Oh.” My head goes back so hard it thumps the wall, and he chuckles around my nipple, his cock leaping against me.

“You’re so hot and wet,” he mutters, pushing harder between my legs.

I tug impatiently at his shirt, trying to pull it over his head. Ignoring me, he works steadily on my breasts until I can’t think at all.

“Fuck.” He rears back, his eye clouded with lust. “I should make you come like this, but I can’t wait.” He tears my sundress off, then stands back and stares at me. My bra is around my waist, my knickers soaked through, and I can barely stand.

“Get your clothes off.” He pulls his shirt over his head, his eye not leaving my body. I wriggle out of my underwear, so turned on that I gasp when the air hits between my legs.

He snaps open his jeans, and his cock rears to his belly, already dripping. “Get on the bed.”

I stumble backward, unable to take my eyes off the scarred, hard, ripped length of him, the fierce need pulsing between his legs.

“Spread your legs, angel. I want to look at you.”

I moan, my hips involuntarily thrusting upward as I do as he says.

“Christ.” His voice is hoarse. “If I touch you with my tongue you’ll come instantly.”

I almost come at the thought of it.

His hand slips between my thighs. He hisses an intake of breath, then flips me over so he’s on his back, with me straddled across him.

“I think of you like this,” he says, both of his hands on my thighs, his thumbs manipulating my core. “Like you were that first night back in Paris, when I woke up.” He rocks his length against my opening, still not letting me take it inside. “You don’t know how much I wanted you that morning. It still haunts my fucking dreams, the memory of you like this, looking down at me.”