Kiss an Angel(87)

“Very well,” she said. “What do you want me to do?”

“I ready told you. Get naked.”

“I said I was going to make love to you, not the other way around.”

“Maybe I don’t want to make love. Maybe I just want to f*ck.”

That rat! He was deliberately goading her, and she had to bite her tongue to keep herself from falling into his clutches. If she lost her temper, she’d be giving him the upper hand, and that was exactly what he wanted. Somehow she had to stand up to him, and she had to do it on her terms. She loved him too much to let him bully her like this.

She considered her options, then rose from the bed to undress. He said nothing; he merely watched her. She kicked off her shoes and slipped out of her costume, but when she got down to her bra and panties, she found herself reluctant to go any further. He was powerfully aroused, a fact the fit of those jeans made evident, and his mood was so dangerous that she wasn’t quite sure what to expect. Maybe distraction would be a good option. That way she could buy herself a little time.

So much had happened since her interview with her father that she hadn’t had a chance to talk with Alex about his astonishing claims, if she brought the subject up now, she might be able to throw him off guard. A discussion about his family history could also defuse his unpredictable mood.

“Dad told me your father was a Romanov.”

“Take off my jeans.”

“And not just any Romanov. He said your father was the grandson of Czar Nicholas II.”

“Don’t make me repeat myself.”

He regarded her with such arrogance that it wasn’t at all difficult to imagine him sitting on the throne of Catherine the Great and ordering some recalcitrant Petroff female to throw herself into the Volga.

“He says you’re the heir to the Russian crown.”

“Be quiet and do what I told you.”

She repressed a sigh. Lord, he was being difficult. Apparently there was nothing like a declaration of love to make this Russian go on the attack. She found it difficult to meet his gaze with any measure of dignity when she was clad only in her underwear and he looked so alarmingly potent, but she did her best. This clearly wasn’t the time to pry loose any of the answers she craved.

He sneered at her. “When you take off my jeans, do it on your knees.”

Insufferable jerk!

His lips thinned. “Now.”

She took three deep breaths. She’d never imagined he’d go this squirrelly on her. It was amazing what fear could do to a man. And now he intended to push her until she threw her declaration of love back in his face. How many tigers did she have to tame in one day?

As she studied the arrogant narrowing of his eyes, the insolent flare of his nostrils, she felt an unexpected rush of tenderness. Her poor darling. He was dealing with his fear in the only way he knew how, and castigating him for it would only make him more defensive. Oh, Alex, what did your uncle’s whip do to you?

She gazed into his eyes and slowly lowered herself to her knees. Threads of sensation uncoiled inside her as she saw how aroused he was. Even his fear hadn’t been able to destroy that.

His fists clenched at his sides. “Damn it! Where’s your pride?”

She sat back on her heels and gazed up at his face, harsh and uncompromising, with those Russian cheekbones casting deep shadows and pale lines of strain bracketing his mouth. “Pride? It’s in my heart, of course.”

“You’re letting me demean you!”

She smiled. “You can’t do that. I can only demean myself. And I’m on my knees to undress you because it excites me.”

A treacherous silence stretched between them. He looked so tortured that she couldn’t bear it. She came up on her knees and pressed her lips to his hard belly, just above the waistband of his jeans. As she nibbled there, she tugged on the snap till it gave way beneath her fingers. Then she struggled to lower the zipper.

His skin broke out in gooseflesh, and his voice sounded ragged. “I don’t understand you at all.”

“I think you do. It’s yourself you don’t understand.”

He grabbed her by the shoulder and pulled her to her feet. His eyes were so dark and unhappy she couldn’t bear it. “What am I going to do with you?” he said.

“Maybe love me back?”

His breath left his body in a smothered rush of sound, and his mouth covered hers. She felt his desperation and was powerless to help him. The kiss claimed them both. Like a whirlwind, it swept them into its power.

She didn’t know whether they undressed themselves or each other, but they were soon lying naked on the bed. Sensation, warm and thick, spread outward from her belly. His mouth was on her shoulder, her breasts, brushing the crests. He kissed her belly. She opened her legs for him and let him raise her knees.

“I’m going to touch you everywhere,” he murmured against the soft skin of her inner thigh.

And he did. Oh, he did.

He couldn’t love her with his heart, but he could love her with his body, and he did it with an unbridled generosity that filled her with emotion. She took what he was able to give and, at the same time, she loved him back, using her hands and her breasts, the graze of her skin, the warmth of her mouth.

When he finally buried himself deep within her, she wrapped her legs around his and clung fast.