She sighed, he smiled and she looked at him. “Togarmah.”
“Literally translated as 'Bone Breaker.’ It is a lovely name. Perfect, I think.”
“You know too much,” she admonished.
He inclined his head. “I know some. But not nearly everything I want to.”
Her eyes widened again and he knew then she would give him everything she was right here and right now. She lowered her head, skimming her lips over his brow until he raised his mouth and she settled her lips on his.
They stayed that way for long moments, sharing breath and want and need—letting it flow between them in a luxurious tide.
Then, when the desire coiled too tight for him to deny any longer, he stood, took her head in his big hands, cradling her, and Dmitry kissed her. Her taste exploded over his tongue and the heat built inside him. He felt nothing but her—knew nothing but her.
The world could have ended and he would have been fine as long as her mouth was under his and he could taste her. She reached for him, her fingers pressing into the muscles of his chest and she took as she gave, wholly, completely.
“I have waited a hundred years it seems to feel the silk of you in my hands,” he told her.
She spread her hands flat on his chest and smiled that gamin smile, which never failed to rearrange his heart in his chest.
“I think you were created for this, Asinimov.”
That she reveled in his body was another step taken in his conquest to vanquish her soul.
“I should warn you,” she began.
His breath hitched.
“I do not know what I am doing.”
Elation swam through his bloodstream. “And I’ve never done it with you, so we are both brand new, da?”
She hid her face against his chest but not before he saw her cheeks pinken and her smile go soft. She fit him like a puzzle, sliding against him like the click of the final piece into place.
“It is not too soon?” she asked, her voice muffled.
He chuckled. “Serdtse mojo, had I known the taste of your kiss, the feel of you, naked in my arms before tonight, you would not be questioning this.”
“I had thought to battle when I entered this room,” she said and the words sounded pulled from her.
His skin tightened painfully. “Ljubovj—velichajshaja bitva,” he promised.
She stepped back then, her hands on his arms, squeezing and releasing. “I do not know love, Dmitry. It is too much to ask of one such as me.”
“Bone might not know love and it is not Bone I seek to make mine. But Togarmah,” he said at her lips, “Togarmah is the one I crave and while she might not understand that thump in her heart, the heat between her thighs or the lightning dancing under her skin, she can be taught love and I am the one who will do it.”
She shook her head, denying him. “I am Bone. Togarmah is nothing more than a name from my past. You seek a resurrection and it isn’t possible. I don’t know that I have ever known any emotion other than ones based in hate. Best you know that I am only Bone—and a name is simply a name.”
He drew in a rough breath. He’d thought her splintered but she was much closer to broken than she realized. “Then I will take you both and when I’m deep inside your body, holding you close, I will call you something else.”
She stared up at him, waiting.
“I will call you my own.”
She bit her lower lip, contemplating his words. He swore he could see the wheels of her mind turning, turning, turning until finally she nodded and walked to the bed. Dmitry watched her, wondering what she would do.
He was unprepared when she lowered her pants and stood before him glorious and perfect and naked.
“There are decisions I have made my entire life solely for the benefit or gain of others. Never have I had the chance to touch the sun and truly feel its warmth. Show me the sun, Dmitry. Help me banish some of the darkness.”
It was a plea and his entire body, heart, and soul responded.
“Lie down on the bed, Etzem,” he commanded. The word had become an endearment.
She did as he ordered. “The sound of my native tongue on your lips gives me the illusion that I can be more than a killer.”
“Then I will learn every word there is in Hebrew and I will spend my life talking to you so that you never forget,” he vowed.
“You would do that for a killer?”
Oh, the pain and hope in her voice made his soul shake. “I would do it for you.”
His hands clenched and the pain in his fist and shoulder were excruciating but he pushed them aside. She lay there, a still golden statue lit by the moonlight and the faint glow from the bathroom, and all he felt was a desperate need to sink into her and never come out.
He walked to her then, trailing at finger from the tip of her toe to the tip of her breast. She sighed and it woke the ravening beast inside him. He’d told her moments ago he’d give her his heart for her sighs.