“So you’re going to beg?” I whisper, bravely gazing into his darkening eyes.
“No, Anastasia.” He shakes his head. “No begging.” His voice is soft, seductive.
And we stand staring at each other, drinking each other in—the atmosphere charging
between us, almost crackling, neither saying anything, just looking. I bite my lip as
desire for this beautiful man seizes me with a vengeance, igniting my blood, shallowing
my breath, pooling below my waist. I see my reactions reflected in his stance, in his eyes.
In a beat, he grabs me by my hips and pulls me to him as my hands reach for his hair
and his mouth claims me. He pushes me against the fridge, and I hear the vague protesting
rattle of bottles and jars from within as his tongue finds mine. I moan into his mouth, and
one of his hands moves into my hair, pulling my head back as we kiss, savagely.
“What do you want, Anastasia?” he breathes.
“You.” I gasp.
“Where?”
“Bed.”
He breaks free, scoops me into his arms, and carries me quickly and seemingly without
any strain into my bedroom. Setting me on my feet beside my bed, he leans down and
switches on my bedside lamp. He glances quickly round the room and hastily closes the
pale cream curtains.
“Now what?” he says softly.
“Make love to me.”
“How?”
Jeez.
“You have got to tell me, baby.”
Holy crap. “Undress me.” I am panting already.
He smiles and hooks his index finger into my open shirt, pulling me toward him.
“Good girl,” he murmurs, and without taking his blazing eyes off mine, slowly starts
to unbutton my shirt.
Tentatively I put my hands on his arms to steady myself. He doesn’t complain. His
arms are a safe area. When he’s finished with the buttons, he pulls my shirt over my shoulders,
and I let go of him to let the shirt fall to the floor. He reaches down to the waistband
of my jeans, pops the button, and pulls down the zipper.
“Tell me what you want, Anastasia.” His eyes smolder and his lips part as he takes
quick shallow breaths.
“Kiss me from here to here,” I whisper trailing my finger from the base of my ear,
down my throat. He smoothes my hair out of the line of fire and bends, leaving sweet soft
kisses along the path my finger took and then back again.
“My jeans and panties,” I murmur, and he smiles against my throat before he drops
to his knees in front of me. Oh, I feel so powerful. Hooking his thumbs into my jeans, he
gently pulls them and my panties down my legs. I step out of my pumps and my clothes so
that I’m left wearing only my bra. He stops and looks up at me expectantly, but he doesn’t
get up.
“What now, Anastasia?”
“Kiss me,” I whisper.
“Where?