“I’ll be honest with you. I don’t know,” she said, her voice pitched soft and low, and he felt his pulse jump. He could smell the floral scent of her perfume, and he couldn’t tear his eyes away from the neck of her pajama top, where it gaped as it fell away from her body. He could see her breasts, hanging in the shadowy softness beneath her shirt.
His cock jumped. Bruno gripped the napkin in his lap like it was a life preserver and he was alone in the middle of the Pacific.
She gave a delicate shrug. “But I do know that I have had a lot of important realizations this week. That includes tonight. And I know that, whether or not I make it tomorrow, it won’t change my mind that my decision to stay at the resort all week was stupid. What I’d like to do tonight, though, is do something that has nothing to do with pride or strength or any of that other bullshit. Tonight, I’m going to be selfish in the right way. Because, for probably the first time in my life, there’s something that I want so badly that it makes me forget everything else except for myself,” she said huskily, her lips practically caressing his cheek now.
His nostrils flared at the seduction in her voice. This woman was going to be the death of him if she didn’t let him touch her soon. And that was what she wanted. He could tell, and he wasn’t about to say no. He wanted her, too.
But he held off, just sat and watched her, knowing that she needed to say everything she had in mind before she could give herself over to him.
“And what is it that you want?” he asked quietly.
The wait was worth it. A slow, wide smile spread across her face. The Smile. His body practically vibrated with need.
“You,” she whispered, before she finally gave him what he wanted and pressed her lips to his.
Chapter Five
Lily had intended the kiss to be a demand, a hot and heavy exchange that set the stage for the kind of sex she imagined one-night stands would be like. Intense, rough, explosive.
But she should have known Komarov would turn the tables on her. He seized the kiss within seconds, slowing the slide of their lips over each other’s, gentling the strokes of her tongue by slowing the pace until the urgency within her melted away.
It was incredible, how good he was at giving her what she needed. Even from a sitting position, trapped by the table and the chair’s armrests, he made her relax. She was amazed at how soft she felt with him, how secure.
He didn’t feel like a stranger. His hands stroked up her arms and gripped the back of her head as though he did it every morning. When he released her lips to nibble a trail down her neck, then lower still, pressing slow kisses to each inch of bare skin that was revealed by the slide of a button, she had the oddest sensation that he was meant to do this forever.
When her shirt was hanging open, barely hiding her breasts, he finally stood up, pushing back from the table so forcefully that the chair toppled over.
She moved to right it, but he gripped her arm. “Leave it,” he commanded. And then, “Bedroom.”
There was no time to respond before his mouth took hers again, moving her backward toward the bedroom door even as he kissed her deeply, his hands roaming freely over her body.
Lily moved her hands up his arms and reveled in the strength she felt there before spreading her fingers wide and sliding her hands down his chest, flat palms over sculpted muscle that she could feel even through his T-shirt.
The backs of her thighs hit something soft. The bed.
“Komarov,” she whispered against his lips.
“Bruno,” he growled and pulled away.
She smiled and used the space between them to dance around him, turning him and pushing him back against the bed.
He fell.
Oh, yes.
This lovely, big man against plush white linens…it was breathtaking. She gave him a cat-that-ate-the-cream smile, stepping between his legs, which still dangled off the edge, and slid off her pajama top. His legs tightened around her, briefly, intensely, and she yelped.
He froze. “Did I hurt you?”
Lily shook her head. “I liked it.” She leaned forward to lay her body atop his, her breasts swaying hypnotically for a moment before melting against his chest, then wiggling back and forth, scraping her nipples across the cotton of his shirt. The friction felt so good she couldn’t help letting out a soft moan. He pushed his hips up in response, his large cock pressing into her abdomen through the fabric of his sweats.
“Jesus,” he gritted out, bucking again.
Her hands burrowed under his T-shirt, finding warm skin and firm muscles. “I want this off, Komarov. I want you,” she purred, pushing the material up.
But his hand came down, stopping her, even as he pushed his hips up again. “Bruno.”
Her eyes flew up to his face. His face was strained, his jaw set tight. He was serious. Well, then.
“Bruno,” she breathed.