by Aliyah Burke
“Make yourself at home. I’ll be back in a bit to collect you for dinner.” Nikolas spoke by her ear, sending more of those delightful shivers throughout her body. “I hope you’re hungry.”
One feather-light touch on the base of her spine and he was gone. Cleo glanced over her shoulder in time to see him crossing the area rugs on the landing, his motion one of pure masculine power. It rolled off him in waves, and she couldn’t help the moan of appreciation that slipped past her lips.
Squaring her shoulders, Cleo headed into the room, which was lit not only with a soft lamp by the door but also by the flames of a large roaring fire. Her gaze moved around the interior, and she swore softly. “Sweet Jesus.”
It was a huge room. As with the downstairs, crisp white paint and gold trim accented of the walls. Beautiful oil painted landscape images in gold frames hung throughout the room. Dark caramel furniture graced the space. To her left was a beautiful queen panel bed—the beauty of it took her breath away. The color of the thick comforter was a subtle off-white, blending in smoothly with the rest of the room’s décor. Lots of plush pillows covered the surface of the bed.
Her gaze swept over the bachelor’s chests, some with and some without marbled tops. In one corner sat a round pedestal table with two chairs placed before it. Behind the overstuffed sofa in the room was a console table with a large crystal vase holding an array of yellow roses, orange tulips, peach gerbera daisies, and green hydrangeas, all silk but no less beautiful. There were smaller arrangements sporadically placed on smooth surfaces throughout the room.
“I could stay in this room quite contentedly.” She draped her coat over the arm of the sofa.
She walked to the bed and gently reached out to press on the thick mattress. This is going to be a great night’s sleep. Moments after she sat on it, a knock came to the door. It sent tremors of longing through her for she knew who it was. Mouthwateringly handsome Nikolas Andreyevich.
“Come on in,” she offered, getting off the bed and walking past the marble-topped round door commode. She stood in front of the Delano door dresser, staring at her reflection in the mirror.
The door opened, and using the etched mirror, she found herself seeing the tall form of the man who’d come to escort her to dinner. He hadn’t changed his clothing, and she was eternally grateful. Nikolas leaned against the door with one wide shoulder. His arms were crossed as he stared back at her. A half smile curled up on side of his firm, kissable mouth.
“Ready?” he asked, not moving from his spot.
“This room…the whole house is absolutely beautiful. I know I’ve said it before, but I truly mean it.” She turned around and faced him head on. “This is spectacular.”
With barely contained power, he pushed away from where he rested and prowled toward her. His gaze burned a hole into her as he came closer and closer.
“I’m glad you like it here. You look good in this room.”
“Where’s your room?” she asked and, then, clamped her mouth shut as the realization of what she just said hit her.
He stopped before her, reaching out to stroke one finger down the side of her face. “Just say the word, and I’ll take you right there. Just to forewarn you, once you go there, you’re staying.”
Resting her lashes against her cheek briefly, Cleo brought them up to gaze back at the man before her. “I’ll keep that in mind,” she murmured. His gaze reminded her of warm, smooth chocolate. Something she’d like to bathe in, submerge herself in, and never surface. His eyes had a way of changing from dangerous to inviting. Right now, they invited, and she seriously considered accepting.
“Good.” He took his touch away, and she felt the loss. Nikolas straightened and offered her his arm.
Steeling herself mentally, Cleo rested her hand upon the muscular forearm of the man escorting her. The material beneath her hand was soft to the touch, despite the denim look. There was nothing more she longed to do than forget about dinner and explore the feelings Nikolas evoked within her.
As they reached the landing, he pointed with his free hand down the other hallway. “My room is down there.” He winked. “You know, in case you wanted to take a peek.”
She shuddered at the pure sexual offer in his tone. Her steps faltered as she fought back the foolish side of her who damn near accepted his offer. Imagine what a night with him would be like. Jesus, Cleo, take him up on it.
“Who knows,” she said teasingly, despite the internal turmoil she experienced. “Maybe after dinner.”
His head dropped so his warm breath fanned along her ear. “I promise it will be a night you’d never forget.”
Her eyes fluttered, and she swallowed hard before licking her lips. “Such a shame you aren’t confident.”
Nikolas chuckled. “I know. Something I need to work on.”
Cleo laughed with him, this time. Her ex-husband had been extremely arrogant, and she’d hated it about him. Always thought it a bad trait. But, on this man, it was totally different. He wasn’t just overly confident; he dripped with alpha male personality. And, honestly, it was such a turn-on.
In companionable silence, they walked down the stairs. Cleo used the time to absorb more of the treasures the house offered. The temperature was lovely, even without her coat on, so she was very comfortable. Please, it could be freezing in here, and I’d be warm. Courtesy of the man beside me.
Once on the first floor, they headed into another room. Like the previous rooms in the house, Cleo eagerly took in the look. It was smaller but very warm and inviting. There was a fire in the fireplace along one wall. A rectangular table with four matching Queen Anne side chairs sat positioned in the middle. Long ivory tapers in hurricane holders graced the dark cherry table.
Silver covered plates sat before each end chair. Crystal water goblets shone in the flickering light from both candles and fire. Standing near one chair, Cleo recognized the man Nikolas had called Vassi.
“Good evening, miss,” he said in a low accented voice.
Removing her hand from Nikolas’ arm, she smiled. “Good evening. Thank you so much for this. Everything smells wonderful.”
Vassi blushed. “Thank you, miss.”
Nikolas held a chair and said, “Thank you, Vassi. That will be all. Have a great night.”
“Very good, sir.” The man vanished in silence.
“Your seat,” Nikolas said, staring at her, the flames giving his eyes a mottled look.
Inhaling sharply, she moved toward him and allowed him to seat her. He was still surrounded by that crisp, outdoorsy smell and scent of pure virile male. Her mouth watered for another reason when he pulled the cover off the dish on the table.
“Oh, wow,” she breathed. “Smells divine.”
“Goose with apples drizzled in a brown sugar/caramel sauce, freshly baked wheat rolls, and some boiled cabbage.” Nikolas slid her in close before moving to the other side and taking his seat.
Her mouth watered as she looked over the spread before her. The butter even tempted. It looked soft, whipped almost. “This looks amazing,” she said as she unfolded her linen napkin and placed it across her lap.
“Thank you. I’ll pass your compliments on to the chef.”
She nodded in thanks. Cleo could feel her belly rolling in anticipation of tasting this incredible feast. Still, she waited. She’d never eaten first unless out with girlfriends—then she’d eat when they did—otherwise, she’d always waited for her husband to take the first bite.
Nikolas searched for and held her gaze. “Something wrong?” he asked, his fork hesitating partway to his mouth.
“No, not at all. Just an old habit, I apologize.”
His eyes narrowed. “Something to do with your stupid ex-husband, I am guessing.”
She forced a smile. Thinking about the ex was not how she wanted to spend her evening. Lifting the fork, she took a bite of the succulent meat. It seemed to fall apart in her mouth, the taste spreading through her, and a moan of pure pleasure escaped. Sweet
Jesus.
A knowing grin flittered across his face as he, too, put his fork in his mouth. Cleo had a hard time swallowing as she watched his jaw in the flickering light. The gentle glow from the fire and candles made his skin seem like soft gold. The strong, aristocratic set of his face made her imagine things like them on the floor in front of the very fire in the room. How goose would taste from his lips. Yanking her eyes from him, she focused on her plate. Cleo ignored the feelings that coursed through her body.
“I don’t bite, Cleo. You can look at me.” His low voice flowed over her skin like velour and silk. When she met his dark gaze, he winked. “Until you tell me to bite you, that is.” He licked his lips.
She shuddered at the pure sexual implications of his smooth words. I’m in so much trouble with this one. Slowly, but with deliberation, Cleo blinked once and held his gaze. Keeping the fork poised before her mouth she smiled. “Do I get to pick the place, as well?” she asked with a slow drawl.
His eyes appeared almost black for a moment as he glanced at her. When he blinked and looked upon her again, she noticed they had lightened but were no less tumultuous. “Oh, yes,” he said with promise.
“I’ll keep that in mind,” she retorted and turned her attention back to her food.
Chapter Seven
Nik clenched his teeth against the surge of longing that swept through him. The erection in his pants was harder than the granite from which his home had been built. Every pore in his body yelled for him to sweep his arm through the items gracing the table, to hell with where they landed, and take the woman across from him. Over and over until they both collapsed from exhaustion.
His cock pulsed as her full lips curved up enticingly before gently hiding the fork with a bite of goose and cabbage on it. Nik’s gaze never moved from her lips as she pulled out the clean utensil. It was like a cotton field had taken up residence in his mouth, as dry as it was. The smile that teased the corners told him she knew how she affected him.
Putting down his fork, he reached for a roll and broke it open, inhaling the rich fragrance as steam spiraled up to the ceiling. With a silver knife, he spread the homemade butter on it, watching as it melted into the soft bread. Nik took a bite and chewed slowly as he prayed for control. Every second he spent in her presence, he felt himself reverting back to the warrior who didn’t give a damn about the rules. He continued his vigilant watch while she wiped her plate clean with a last bit of the roll.
With a soft sigh, she placed her fork, prongs down, and knife on the plate. “That was, by far, the best meal I’ve eaten while in this country. Hell, the best meal I’ve eaten in a long time.”
Swallowing, he set the remainder of his food down. “I’m so glad you enjoyed it.”
“It was amazing.” A cute chuckle left her. “In fact, that’s how I’d describe this whole day.” Cleo looked at him and smiled. “Thank you, for everything.”
He felt like he’d handed her a star. No, a galaxy. Her eyes shone, and he fell deeper in love. Pushing away from the table, he stood and walked around to her side and inhaled the compilation of scents that surrounded her. Another tremor of lust rocketed through his body.
“Dessert?” he asked.
“Oh, no, I couldn’t. Between this meal and the cake I had at Mihailov’s, I’m stuffed.” Placing her hand in his, she got to her feet, as well. Then, to his shock and amazement, she began gathering the dishes. “Can you point me in the direction of the kitchen, please?”
Wrapping one hand around her delicate wrist, he shook his head. “You don’t need to do this. It will be taken care of.”
“Nonsense. It won’t take me long to do these up.” She tugged her hand free.
“Cleo, you are a guest in my home.” His heart skipped as she met his gaze.
“I know. Now…the kitchen, please. And bring your dishes.”
Managed. I’m being managed. Tamping down the urge to hold her, Nik ran his tongue over his teeth and moved to his end of the table. It didn’t take long and he was leading the way through the house to the kitchen. Laughter filled his head as he strode along, laughter that sounded suspiciously like his brother’s.
It seemed like he blinked and she was making herself at home in his spotless kitchen. She began filling a stainless steel sink with water before bending over and giving him a lovely view of her delicious derriere as she hunted for something. Dish soap.
“I’ll have these done in a jiff,” she said over her shoulder, and her hands delved into the sudsy water.
Nik didn’t know what to do. Most women he knew wanted a dishwasher or a person to clean up after them. But not her, not Cleo. She’d ordered him around in his own house, and now, she stood in the kitchen, his kitchen, dimly lit by two recessed lights over her head.
“And, what am I supposed to do while my guest does dishes?” he asked, crossing his arms.
Sending him a brief but heated glance over her shoulder, she quipped, “Surely, you can put water on for tea.”
That’s it, keep on sassing. Won’t be so smug when I have you bent over that counter. “That is something I think I can handle.” Moving to the large oven, he turned on a single burner on the range and placed the filled teapot on the blue flames.
“Good,” she quipped.
“Get to work, woman,” he snapped playfully as he moved to the island in the middle of the room and leaned against it. Her gentle laughter flowed over him, and it warmed him throughout. “What kind of tea would you like?”
“Cocoa.” A short pause. “With marshmallows.”
He looked at her and arched a brow. Cleo never faced him, so he stood there for a moment as she continued to wash. From tea to cocoa… Well, he was learning about her.
She was right; it didn’t take her long to finish, and soon, she was sitting on a stool, her fingers wrapped around an oversized mug filled full of cocoa. Nikolas busied himself with sifting through the cupboards to find her some marshmallows. He didn’t know why she wanted them, but if he had to wake up his staff to get them for her, he would. If it took going to town to get them, he would. His fingers closed around the bag, and he pulled them out with a triumphant grin.
“Your marshmallows, my lady.” Opening the bag, he set it on the marbled countertop before her. He bit the inside of his lower lip as Cleo reached out with one hand and grabbed a handful of the large white pillowed sweet treat. A knot formed in his throat as she ate one, putting the remaining ones on the top of her steaming cocoa.
“Thank you,” she mumbled around the marshmallow in her mouth.
When her brown gaze reached his in the low light of the kitchen, his body shuddered. It wasn’t just the passion that threw him; swirling in the depths was enjoyment at what she was experiencing. The urge to lean across the marble and press his lips to hers nearly floored him. The chime of his cell phone snapped him out of his fantasy where a kiss led to more, much more.
Swearing silently, he pulled the offending piece of technology off his belt, sent Cleo an apologetic smile, and said, “Andreyevich.”
Out of habit, Nik headed for the privacy of another room as he spoke with one of his funds managers. He didn’t mean anything by it, but he’d come to learn people either thought it rude or wanted to know about his business. Still, as he left the comfort of the kitchen, he cast one more longing glance over his shoulder to settle his eyes upon the woman sitting there drinking hot chocolate, swinging her legs on the stool, and looking entirely all too adorable.
When the call was finished, Nik laid it upon the Spanish bronzed bombe console and hastened back to the kitchen to spend more time with Cleo. His heart dropped past his feet as his gaze took in the empty room.
“What the—?” His heart pounded loudly. “Cleo?”
An irrational fear began to well up within him. Images of her hurt or scared raced through him. Ignoring his drink, he raced from the room and thundered up the stairs to the room she’d been given for the night. Without slowing or even knocking, he jerked open the door and
burst inside.
“Cleo!”
There was silence. He saw her coat gently tossed over the sofa’s arm. Where could she be?
“Excuse me, sir. Your young miss is out on the Arabian patio.” Vassi’s voice floated across the room to him.
Spinning on his heel, Nik charged out of the room, brushing past Vassi. At the last second, he stopped and smiled back at the man who’d been with him for many years. “Thank you, Vassi. Now, really, take the rest of the night off.”
An understanding and kind expression filled the old man’s face. “It’s good to see you happy again, sir. It’s been far too long.”
Nikolas nodded; he had been surly way too long. “What do you think?”
This time, it was feistiness that filled the watery gray eyes. “I think you should go get your woman instead of standing here talking to this old man.”
“Night, Vassi,” Nik said as he headed for the stairs at a jog.
“Good night, sir.”
Long strides carried him down the granite stairs in rapid succession. Nik barely slowed as he made a sharp left, grabbed his coat, and headed for the door leading out to the Arabian patio. Instead of immediately yanking the door open, Nik took a deep breath first. It was a good thing he’d done so, for when his gaze landed upon her after he opened it, he promptly lost any and all air in his lungs.
Cleo stood there, bathed in the warm amber light from the wall sconces. She looked across the snow-covered patio, hands wrapped snugly around her drink as she leaned against the pillar that held the wall fountain, which currently wasn’t running. It had a twin on the other end small area. Complete serenity was the name he’d give the look on her face. The cold, the snow, the fact she was without a jacket—none of it bothered her.
“Cleo,” he breathed on a sigh.
“I’m sorry for snooping around, but I saw this through the window and couldn’t resist coming out to see it.”
An apology? He moved around to where she stood, noting the flush of her skin. Shrugging out of his coat, he placed it over her slender shoulders and pressed tighter against her backside. “You never need to apologize for making yourself at home here. I just didn’t know where you’d gone.” Lowering his head, he allowed his cheek to brush against hers. Her tremble pleased him. But even more was the way she didn’t tense when he did so.