by Lucy Monroe
If there was one thing she would willingly bank on right now, it was that fact. This man knew what he was doing. Man, did he know.
If sex had ever felt this good, it wouldn’t have been so long since the last time she’d had it. Heck, she might have actually worked on making a relationship work. This was worth leaving the lab for.
Mykola’s fingertips drew a pattern of desire on her midriff that sent shock waves to her core.
“I want this off. I want to touch. Now, Mykola.” She scrabbled at the shirt that molded his muscular torso.
His head came up, his expression fierce with sexual need. “Whatever you want, doc.”
The nickname wasn’t exactly a romantic one, but spoken in that tone of voice, it made her thighs clench.
He ripped his dark shirt off over his head and tossed it aside, revealing a chest and abs that made her swallow against a suddenly dry throat. He was truly the stuff of fantasies. Especially her fantasies. A light dusting of black hair gave texture to his upper chest, but his skin showed through. He even had a tattoo over his heart—kanji characters she didn’t recognize done in bold black slashes.
She traced the bisected shelf of his pectorals, brushing over the soft whorls of hair. “So strong.”
“I work at it.”
“I can tell.” She let her fingertips trail down over his solidly defined six-pack. “So much muscle.”
Big hands, every bit as strong as the other parts of him, settled around her waist. “You’re soft. I like that.”
“I should work out.”
“You should be yourself.” With that, he lifted her up, right onto his lap.
She faced him, her legs straddling his thighs, her bottom firmly settled on his adamantine quads. The diamond-hard surface of his lap should have been uncomfortable, but she had never felt so perfectly content. “You have a thing about me sitting on your lap.”
“I like you there.”
“I’m not too h—”
He cut her question off with a growl, and his lips pressed to hers. The kiss wasn’t quite a punishment, but she felt his disapproval of her concern. Their mouths meshed for long, heated seconds.
When he tilted his head back, she didn’t want the kiss to end and chased his lips with her own. He made an amused sound, but there was nothing funny about the way his mouth once again slanted over hers. This time, the kiss was feral, needy, and hot.
His tongue took the interior of her mouth like a warlord intent on conquering, but she wasn’t ready to be conquered and she fought for equality in the kiss. He let her tongue slide into his mouth with no resistance, but she realized it was more a feint than a retreat. Suddenly, he was devouring her in a way that left her trembling and breathless against him.
She could do nothing when he pulled his lips from hers but gasp for the air she’d forgotten to breathe in amid the ferocity of the kiss.
“Like where you are?” he asked in a gravelly voice.
“Yes.”
“Me, too.”
“I’m glad.”
“No more doubting.”
She chuckled, impressed with how much he could convey with a few words and a scorching kiss. “Okay.” She didn’t fit the stereotype of the skinny scientist with glasses, much less Hollywood beauty.
And he didn’t mind.
In fact, he liked it.
A lot.
For the first time outside her belly-dancing community, she felt comfortable with the body God had given her. The generous breasts, the curvy thighs, the waist that was more than a hand-span. Casey had told her once that she was vamp material. She’d thought he was nuts.
But maybe for Mykola, she could be. Just because she’d never experienced the fireworks and fantasies song lyricists rhapsodized about did not mean she had no idea what to do.
This time, she had a feeling she was really going to enjoy it. The fact that she vibrated with the need to touch told her that. She’d never wanted to explore another man’s body so badly. Had never desired so deeply to give pleasure and to make that pleasure unforgettable.
She rose up into a sitting position again. Licking her lips, she surveyed his totally delectable torso. “Put your arms along the back of the sofa.”
He quirked a brow in question.
“I told you, I want to touch.”
“I’m all about the touching.” With that he did as she’d instructed.
Having the embodiment of her favorite fantasies spread out for her like this was enough to make her lungs constrict in her chest. She had to force herself to breathe even as she could feel the dampness between her legs growing. “You’re so sexy, Mykola.”
“I’m glad you think so.”
“Arrogant but not truly conceited?”
He shrugged, making all those delicious muscles ripple. His position should have made him look vulnerable, but he radiated sexual power.
“Keep your arms up.”
“For a while.”
She supposed that was a pretty good concession for a man used to taking charge. She had a thought. “You’re not ticklish, are you?”
“No.”
“Good.” With that she began mapping the planes of his body with her fingertips.
She started with his neck, brushing down the strong column. He let his head fall back against the back of the couch. It was tall enough that his heavy-lidded gaze never broke from hers.
The expression in his dark chocolate eyes made her moan. One side of his mouth tilted, but no amusement shone on his features.
She brushed the soft bristles of his close-cropped beard. “I’ve never been attracted to a man with facial hair before.”
“You filter your attractions through your fixation on James Dean.”
“I’m not fixated.”
“The framed posters on your bedroom walls say otherwise.”
“They’re art.” And they had cost a bundle.
“They’re eye candy for you.”
“You don’t look anything like James Dean, but you’re sweeter eye candy than any man I’ve ever seen.” For once she didn’t care about her lack of filters. Hiding her infatuation with Mykola’s looks would be like trying to ignore the smell her enzymes created when at work.
“It’s the attitude.”
“The bad-boy persona.”
“Yep.”
“You’re sexier.” She had never thought she’d be able to say that about a living man. Heck, maybe she had been fixated. But even if that were true, she sure wasn’t anymore. The man who would dominate her sleeping and waking dreams now was Mykola Chernichenko. A living, breathing, special agent so very good at being in charge.
“You’re damn fine yourself, doc.”
She smiled, letting her hands slide down to rest over the small brown disks of his nipples. His big body jolted as she let her thumbs brush over the instantly hardened nubs.
He flexed his pecs. “Feels good.”
“You feel amazing.”
Her touch was drawn to the black slashes making up the kanji characters on his left pectoral. “What does this mean?”
“You don’t know?”
“No.”
“Warrior.”
“Very appropriate.”
“I thought so.”
“When did you have it done?”
“After I pulled a gun on a coyote for the first time.” He looked into her eyes and she had the feeling he was sharing a piece of his soul. “I wanted a reminder that sometimes a warrior has to use weapons to defend those under his protection.”
“Coyote?”
“Men who prey on the dreams of others who want a better life. They take money promising safe passage over the border, but more often than not they’re offering nothing more than a desperate death or introduction into what is at best indentured servitude.”
“That’s terrible.”
“I think so, too. The border is a dangerous place. Too many who try to make it through the desert end up dying of dehydration, snakebite, and oth
er natural hazards, but that is nothing compared to the dangers they face from two-legged predators.”
“You tried to protect them.”
“I did my job.”
“Because you wanted to save people from such horrible fates.”
“Funny you should realize that. Most people aren’t so understanding of or impressed by the motives of INS agents.”
“Everything about you impresses me.”
Mykola raised his legs to force her body to slide forward until their crotches collided. “Even this?” He canted his hips up off the couch, pressing the hard length trapped behind leather into the wet heat hidden behind Lana’s capris.
She rocked just a little, making them both groan. “Oh, yes.”
“Take off your T-shirt.” The command was rasping, but definitive.
She didn’t even consider demurring. She wasn’t worried about what Mykola would think. He’d made it clear she excited him just the way she was. She grabbed the hem of her shirt and slowly peeled it up her torso and then over her head before tossing it away as he’d done his. Her bra was a lime-green underwire of thin nylon that matched her panties and the color of her T-shirt.
“I want to touch,” he demanded in a low, gravelly tone.
She nodded.
She wanted that too. Craved it.
He brought both arms off the back of the sofa, but instead of cupping her breasts like she expected, he framed her belly button with his hands. “Beautiful.”
“I wear dangling jewels when I dance.” Somehow, she didn’t think of Tinker Bell as sexy.
“You know why men find belly button rings such a huge turn-on?”
“You mean the men that do?” She’d been with a scientist she’d met at a symposium shortly after coming to work for ETRD who had found her belly jewelry unimpressive.
“What man wouldn’t?”
“Trust me, there are plenty.”
“Whatever.”
“So, what’s so sexy about it to you?”
“It directs the eye to your belly and points downward, hinting at things below.”
“Is that what men find sexy about earrings?” After all, they pointed down at a woman’s breasts.
“Maybe.”
“You’re very primeval.”
“So you’ve said.”
“It’s disconcertingly alluring.” She was a modern woman of science. His primitive streak shouldn’t be such a huge turn-on for her, but it was. It so was.
“Baby, you are the alluring one.” His thumbs dipped lower, sliding just inside her waistband. He swished his thumbs side to side, side to side, side to side. Each brush back and forth ratcheted up her anticipation.
She bit her lip and sighed. Would he go lower? She wanted him to go lower. She needed him to go lower. The top of her pubis was extremely sensitive. She wanted to feel his touch there. He would know just how to caress her.
But instead of going down her body, his big hands moved back up her torso until they cupped her breasts as she had at first expected. He moaned, deep and low in his throat, just as if he was the one being touched. And really? She was doing nothing but kneading his chest reflexively as he explored her.
He took hold of her bra clasp, meeting her eyes. “May I?”
“Yes.”
He undid it, but did not pull back the thin nylon of her bra cups. Instead he leaned in and gave her a soft kiss. “Thank you.”
“For what?”
“For sharing yourself with me.”
Something inside her melted. Right into a puddle. If she didn’t know better, she would have said it was the icy wall that had encased her heart since her boyfriend sold her out for a few hundred dollars and even fewer hours of mental escape. She let her forehead rest against Mykola’s as they both panted through what felt like a profound moment.
Neither spoke. She couldn’t. He probably had nothing else to say. After all, it wasn’t a lifetime of his defenses in peril. She couldn’t make herself regret that it was hers.
Finally, he pulled the lime-green fabric away, exposing her breasts one delicious centimeter at a time. Feeling the air against them made her already hardened peaks tingle and tighten further. The way their heads were angled down, she could see the blood-engorged nipples begging for attention. She knew he could, too.
But he didn’t touch.
And she thought she’d go crazy waiting.
“Touch them,” she pleaded.
He made a guttural noise but didn’t speak.
She could feel the heat of his stare as surely as she could the warmth of his fingers as they brushed over her finely veined flesh at last. His touch was light, gentle. Unlike other men who groped her generous flesh like it was a sponge. Perfect.
Her breath hitched. “So good.”
“Beautiful.” He followed the line of fine freckles that decorated the top swell. “So damn gorgeous.”
“Mykola.” She couldn’t say anything else. Couldn’t think enough to form another word.
“Say it again.”
Oh, wow. She didn’t know a man’s voice could sound like that. “Mykola.”
“I feel that in my cock.”
She choked at the earthy sentiment, but it excited her, too.
“Damn, doc.” He rolled her turgid peaks between his fingers and then squeezed them. “You turn me on.”
Her? She was just sitting there. Letting him touch her until she thought she’d go insane with it.
“I can feel it,” she managed to get out.
“Not like you are going to.”
“I want that.” So much. So much. So much.
She didn’t realize she’d been chanting that litany out loud until he nuzzled her and said, “Shh, baby, I’m going to make you feel it all. I promise.”
She whimpered. She couldn’t help it. One thing she’d learned about the Chernichenkos, especially this one, was that they put a lot of stock in keeping their promises.
He slowly pushed her bra completely off her shoulders, caressing her arms as he did so. When it got caught at her elbows, he removed first one of her hands from his chest and slid the strap over her hand, and then the other. He brought both hands back to his skin and she slid them up to his shoulders, unable to stop the reflexive kneading she’d been engaged in before.
Then they were kissing again. She didn’t know which of them moved first, but their lips fused and fireworks went off behind her eyelids. His hands were back on her breasts, rubbing, caressing, and arousing. He zeroed in on her nipples and the heat between her legs went volcanic. He did more than pinch and roll. He abraded them with the callused pads of his fingers, sending intense sensations straight to her core.
She moaned into the kiss, rubbing against him, pressing her apex against his hard bulge with an abandon she’d never shown.
He undid her pants with one hand while the other continued to torment her breasts and nipples. She tried to help him, but only got their fingers tangled.
“Let me,” he demanded.
She nodded, though did not get much movement with her head because he was already back to kissing her.
She tried to undo the button on his leather jeans, but it was stubborn. Or she was fumble fingered. Either way, she had to settle for touching him through the leather of his pants. They molded to his large erection, allowing her to feel his shape if not his skin.
He groaned, bucking upward as he tugged her zipper down, already having gotten her button loose. His fingers delved into her panties, the back of one long digit sliding against her clitoris.
She screamed into his mouth at the electric contact.
He used his knuckle to stimulate her, not pressing too hard, but giving her something to push against. And push she did, rotating her hips as arcs of pleasure exploded through her body.
Her whole body felt sensitized, with the pleasure targeted toward that bundle of nerves he manipulated so perfectly. She felt a climax building faster than she would have thought possible. Then it was there, shatte
ring once and for all her previous perception of sex.
This sex. Sex with Mykola was worth all the fuss. And then some.
She squeezed reflexively against the hardness under her palm, stroking it, wishing it was inside her.
His body went rigid under her and he groaned into her mouth, another sound that she’d never heard from a man before. It was so much more than a mere orgasm. He sounded like he was dying and happy with it. He gripped her hips and pressed up while pulling her against him, crushing their bodies together with near violent passion.
She experienced aftershocks that could have been measured on the Richter scale. After several seconds that felt infinite, he went still under her and they rested together.
Through it all, the kiss continued and his lips still molded hers, no less urgent after the peaks they’d both just reached. His tongue continued to plunder her mouth when he wasn’t busy sucking her tongue into his.
Unbelievably, the level of her arousal never dropped completely and she was already spiraling toward renewal.
Breathing hard, he broke the kiss. “Bed. Now.”
“Yes.”
He stood up with her in his arms, adjusting his grip so that one arm created a shelf under her bottom and the other pressed against her back. Her desire ratcheted up another notch as she felt not only wanted but so incredibly cared for and safe.
She clasped her legs around him, latching her ankles against the small of his back. Her hands were busy caressing his face, reading the desire in his expression by touch. He carried her into her bedroom, sexual purpose emanating from him so intensely she trembled against him.
Not in maidenly fear, but absolute, overwhelming want.
They’d climaxed once, but apparently that had just been the appetizer.
She couldn’t wait for the main course.
Chapter 13
Myk managed to get both himself and Lana naked in record time. Without ripping her sexy little lime-green panties.
He tossed the pile of pillows off the bed, including a stuffed Donald Duck. Disney’s bad boy? Not in his world, but Lana’s brain didn’t work like other people’s. He’d figured that out right away.