His eyes remain closed. “What?”
“You paid for the room. You deserve good rest.”
“If you cease talking, dorogaya moya, I will get rest,” he gruffly said, eyes still closed.
“I am not about to desist.”
His eyes snapped open. “You want me to sleep with you in that excuse of a bed? Knowing that our bodies will be touching?”
She pressed her tongue hard against the inside of her teeth. “We will manage.” To demonstrate that she meant it, she crawled onto the bed and yanked the linens she carried over with her onto it. She could feel his eyes probing her as she pushed her bare legs beneath the cool linens and coverlet. Yanking his linen shirt down as far as it would go, lest it show off more than it already did, she scooted as far over to the edge as possible. And waited.
He sat up in the chair and said something in Russian.
“Lest you forget, I don’t speak Russian.”
He fell back against the chair, setting both hands against the sides of his head. “I am a former criminal who has not lain with a woman in almost a year.”
“You could have taken advantage of me many times. But you didn’t. Did you?”
His hands dropped.
She yanked the linens up to her chin and sank against the pillow. “Are you coming?”
He huffed out a breath. His chair creaked as he rose from it.
As conversationally as she could, she offered, “With our backs to each other, we will fit.”
The floorboards creaked beneath his weight as he made his way toward her. He paused beside the bed and lingered. “Lady Stone.”
She tugged the linen down from her chin and glanced up at him. “Yes?”
Dragging a hand through his still-damp hair, he dropped a heavy hand back to his side. “Why do you continue to trust me?”
It was endearing that he actually sought to protect her from himself. “You have more than proven yourself, Mr. Levin.”
“Have I?” His voice came low. “I should probably tell you I wanted to take advantage of you back in the bathhouse. And even worse, I am still thinking about it.”
She captured his intent gaze, a dizzying current overtaking her. Flashes of their naked bodies pressing and gripping and grinding caused her heart to skid. “I can assure you,” she warned half-seriously, “you are not the only one thinking about it. So don’t consider yourself to be too much of a rebel.”
His green eyes darkened. “Knowing neither of us can be trusted, you still wish to insist I get into bed with you?” he asked, spacing his words evenly.
A pulsing knot rose within her throat. Being ravaged by him wouldn’t be the worst thing to have happened to her in seven years. “I trust you.”
He pushed out an uneven breath as if buying time. “Did you latch the door?”
He knew she did. She tightened her hold on the linen. “Yes.”
Removing each boot from his feet, he let each thud heavily as it landed on the floor. “Do you mind if I undress before I get into bed?”
Her heart felt as if it were going to burst. “No.”
“Good.” He peeled off his linen shirt, all of his smooth, well-defined muscles rippling from the movement. His dark, damp hair fell into his eyes as he bundled the shirt. He tossed it, causing the bulk in his arms to flex, emphasizing a fresh, angry scar on his bare left shoulder and now stood only in trousers slung overly low on narrow hips.
Her knees locked together and the room almost swayed. It was the bathhouse all over again. Not that she was complaining. Trying desperately to focus, she asked, “What happened to your shoulder?”
He glanced at it. “I was shot a few months ago for protecting a man who did not deserve to die. It is what made me walk away from the life I was leading. It made me realize I was promoting the violence.”
There was something remarkable about a man willing to get shot for another man. She held his gaze. “Does it still hurt?”
His rugged features softened. “No.” Edging in, he bent down near her, his bare chest and the bulk of his arms obstructing all view. He leaned in close. And then closer, still. So close, the heated scent of his soaped skin penetrated the air between them. “If you were not a lady, would I have a chance?”
She inhaled sharply at the unexpected question. Something told her he was about to kiss away everything she had ever known. “Do you really want me to answer that?”
“No. It is best you do not answer.” He straightened, leaned over to the side table beside the bed and extended his muscled arm toward the lamp. There was a click of metal from the oil lamp wick being turned down to extinguish the flame.
Darkness blanketed the room.
“You are very brave for allowing this,” he rumbled out.
A bubble of a laugh escaped her. “You haven’t gotten into bed yet.”
“Allow me to change that.” The straw tick shifted.
She scooted over, gripping the edge of the tick so she wouldn’t fall off.
He stretched out beside her and moved closer, causing her body to tilt toward him.
Her nails dug deeper into the tick beneath her.
He shifted closer and using a large hand, took hold of her hip in the darkness and yanked her backside against him, pressing her body against his own.
Cecilia’s eyes widened, drowning in the heat of his soap-scented body. His front was against her backside.
He was quiet for a moment, then stated what they already knew. “This bed was not made for two.”
That was an understatement.
He dragged up the linens against their bodies a bit more, tucking it against the curves of her body. “Are you warmer?”
Why did he have to be so divine? “Yes.”
“Good.” He shifted against her, his hand gently grazing her hair in the darkness. “You are a very stubborn woman.”
Her entire body pulsed. “I am told it is one of my best qualities.”
“Something tells me you have far better qualities.” His touch drifted down from her hair. He smoothed the curve of her hip with an open palm, his fingers dragging against the linen that separated his hand from her skin.
Her heart thudded and melted all at once. In that moment she knew without any doubt that if he initiated anything, she would kneel.
He kept smoothing the curve of her hip, the tips of his fingers slowly digging into her and the linen more and more.
She wanted to faint from want.
His hand left her hip and skimmed down her arm. “Do you have a lover back in London?”
This conversation had officially turned wild. “No. I have never taken a lover.”
He hesitated, then leaned in and brushed her hair away from her neck. “Something tells me you are about to.”
Those husky words and those fingers made her entire world sway.
His hand drifted down toward her breast. He slipped his hand beneath the linen, his calloused fingers grazing and roughing her hardening nipple. “Are you going to stop me?” His voice was ragged. Uneven.
She gripped the edge of the tick harder. “No,” she choked out. There was no denying she wanted this. She wanted him.
He pressed his trouser clad hips into her backside hard, his stiff cock now digging into the lower curve of her back. He slowly ground into her.
She couldn’t breathe. The heat of his erection penetrated the linen of the shirt she was wearing. She could feel wetness in between her own thighs.
His fingers dug into her waist as the heat of his mouth lingered closer against her ear. “Remove everything,” he rasped.
She was too overwhelmed by her own desire to think anymore. She sat up and scrambled to yank off the linen shirt from her body to ensure there was no going back. Whipping it aside, she turned toward him and blindly grabbed his unshaven face, prickling her fingers. She pressed her nakedness against his warmth.
His chest unevenly rose and fell against hers in the darkness. His hot, wet tongue traced her lips. “Admit it. You wanted
me all along.”
Her eyes closed in disbelief and slipped into his world. “I did. God, yes, I did.”
“I knew it.” His tongue parted her lips as his entire mouth grazed hers slowly and masterfully, before moving more urgently against hers. He angled his mouth against hers and pressed down harder until her lips stung and were forced to open wider against the demand of that rolling tongue that probed even deeper into her mouth.
Her fingers dug into him and his fingers dug into her as they feverishly kissed.
The savage need to climax was mutual. It pulsed from their skin.
She frantically smoothed her hands against his velvet, hard-muscled heat.
He shifted on top of her, pushing her down onto the narrow mattress. The quick movement of his fingers between them announced he had released the last button on his trousers. He captured her mouth again, tonguing her heatedly and positioned himself above her, shoving her legs wide open. He guided his cock toward her opening, the muscles in his arms and in his broad back tense against her roaming hands.
His length penetrated her in a single, violent thrust that slammed her into the mattress.
She gasped in complete disbelief of what she was doing.
Holding his rigid heat deep inside her, he released her mouth. “Do you need me to refrain and go slow? Or can I…how do I say…get to it?”
She knew the answer to that one. “Get to it.”
He kissed her lips for a lingering moment, slowly trailing his mouth down to her chin, then knelt and yanked her legs up onto his broad shoulders.
Her heart skipped.
Dragging both hands tightly up her legs, he heatedly pounded into her, banging them and the bed hard into the wall.
It wasn’t the sort of sex she’d ever had with her husband.
Each thrust caused her body to tense and ache in a way she desperately needed. Each hard thrust caused the bed to shift.
He growled something in Russian, penetrating her again and again with raw intensity.
Her heartbeat throbbed in her ears as her core tightened against each rhythmic push. She welcomed every moment of it between uneven, ragged breaths, unable to believe any of this was real.
He slowed and lowered her legs back down onto the mattress.
She wrapped her arms around him, waiting for more. Needing more.
His fingers dug into her wet hair. “I cannot believe you are allowing this.” He jerked his thick cock in and out of her.
She frantically fingered the expanse of his muscled back in between uneven breaths she could barely manage and dragged her hands down toward his waist. She wanted to touch and feel everything she had seen in the bathhouse. Hard. Sculpted. Tense. And it was hers. All hers. To touch. To feel. To revel in.
His smooth, heated skin now felt moist against her fingertips as he worked their bodies into a more frenzied state.
He said something in Russian.
She didn’t need to understand to know he wanted more.
She pushed up into him, desperately wanting to bring herself closer to what she had wanted all along: release. Release from her entire life. In that moment, she wasn’t Lady Stone anymore. She wasn’t what society expected her to be. She was Cecilia. A woman who had always secretly and ardently yearned to touch real passion. The sort of passion a titled lady could never give into without destroying her name.
She feverishly ran her hands up and down the length of Konstantin’s firm, muscled back, and grabbed for his buttocks, squeezing them.
A muffled groan escaped both their mouths.
He stilled. In between ragged breaths, he rasped against her cheek, “What is your birth name? You never told me.”
“Cecilia,” she barely managed.
He rolled his hips, forcing his cock deeper. “Cecilia,” he breathed in between steady strokes. “By allowing this, you are damning me to needing you. You do realize that, yes?”
His hand slid down between them, making her gasp. He fingered her in between thrusts, his hand never stopping as he rubbed and rubbed her nub faster.
Her throat tightened as her body reached a heart-pounding peak that unexpectedly handed itself over to climax.
It came too soon.
She cried out and her body trembled in an explosive release that penetrated more than her body. It penetrated her soul.
His moist, hot mouth descended onto hers again, muffling her cry as his hand jumped out from between them. Gripping her waist tightly, he pulled her against himself one last time until he gasped against her mouth and tensed. He pulled out of her wetness and seething out a savage breath against the curve of her throat which he had buried himself into, she could feel him jerking and jerking his hand faster against his cock in the darkness.
He groaned into her. She felt that groan graze every inch of her as his seed spilled all over her inner thighs. He groaned again and she could feel him spilling more. He seethed out another breath and smeared the wet warmth of his seed against her skin with the length of his cock.
He collapsed against her and buried his head once again into the curve of her throat. Wrapping his arms around her, he pressed her tightly against himself as if he didn’t intend to ever let go. “You are so beautiful.”
She tightened her own hold on him. How was it a complete stranger had shown her more passion and more desire than her own husband had in the fourteen years she had been married?
Konstantin lifted his head,. “Cecilia,” he whispered hoarsely, his chest heaving.
“Yes?” she whispered back.
A breath escaped him. He kissed her forehead softly and brought her closer, tucking her against that solid chest. “Words elude me.”
She clung to him, the intake of his breath and her own pulse drumming in unison beneath her fingers. “They elude me, too.”
He rolled her with him, so he lay on his back and settled against the pillow, adjusting them so they could better fit on the narrow bed. “Are you comfortable?” he murmured into her hair.
“Yes, Mr. Levin, I am,” she murmured back.
He gently tapped her bare skin. “No more Mr. Levin. You and I are lovers. That means you are Cecilia and I am Konstantin. Do you understand?”
None of this was real. How could it be? They had just met. “Yes. I understand.”
Whatever was happening between them, whatever she had allowed for, didn’t feel wrong. It felt beautiful. He felt beautiful. She nestled her cheek against his chest, refusing to think about anything but him. This was her time. Her girls were nowhere in sight and the ton were far, far away in another country well across an ocean and could not judge her. This was between her and what she wanted as a woman.
This was better than Paris.
Lesson Six
Some wake up to find that their dreams have at long last come true.
Only…that is when the real nightmare begins.
-The School of Gallantry
Late morning
Konstantin opened his eyes and paused. The back of Cecilia’s tousled, dark head was tucked below his chin and her smooth, naked warmth was spread across the length of his own nakedness. What had happened between them was real.
His throat tightened. Lifting his head, he glanced down at her. She continued to sleep, her breath coming in soft, even takes. Her full lips were parted and her pale face looked so beautiful and at peace. The linens were pulled around their entangled bodies.
It was the first time he’d ever slept in the arms of a woman for a full night.
She felt like home.
He slowly dragged the linens away from her body and gently folded it down over her hip so he could look at her in a way he hadn’t been able to at night.
Full, white breasts greeted him. Visible marks puckered her pale stomach from the stretching of each child she had carried. It didn’t make her any less beautiful. It made her everything she was. He slid his hand down that stomach, reveling in her warmth and softness. Tightening his jaw, he slid his fingers down to the short, c
urling black hairs between her thighs.
She startled and grabbed his hand hard, her chest rising and falling. “You scared me.”
“Forgive me.” He leaned toward her lips and kissed them, shoving aside the linens. “Did you sleep well, dorogaya moya?” He slid his hand in between her thighs. Pushing his finger deep into her, his cock hardened. Using her wetness, he slowly flicked his finger upward toward that nub. “I want you again.”
Her lips parted as she watched his hand in between escalating breaths. She grabbed his thigh hard and held him in place against her backside.
He flicked her faster and ground his erection into her again and again until she was gasping. He withdrew his finger from her wetness and sat up, leaning against the headboard behind them. Dragging her up and onto his lap, so she faced him, he sat her up. “If only every morning were as bright as this one,” he murmured up at her. “How are you, beautiful?”
She smiled shyly. “I am still in disbelief.”
“You are not the only one.” He wrapped her legs around his naked waist and cupped her face with both hands, letting her dark brown hair cascade down over her bare shoulders and onto her breasts.
He held her gaze, wanting to believe that the reason they were doing this was because they not only wanted each other but needed each other.
She wordlessly lowered herself onto his cock and slid down onto his length.
He bit back a shudder and tightened his hold on her beautiful face, letting her take over. He traced the tip of his tongue across the curve of her chin, dragging it to her lips.
She slipped her hands onto his shoulders and slowly rode him.
He rolled up and into her, digging his fingers into her thick hair. He let his one hand trail down to her breasts and held up one. Lowering his head, he flicked his tongue over its slope and in toward the nipple until it hardened.
She threw back her head, arching toward him and rode him steadily faster. Tightening her long legs around him, she ground down again and again and again, making it harder for him to breathe through the stirring, building sensations. Pleasure rippled through his core and his body and his cock, tensing all of his muscles.
My Favorite Rogue: 8 Wicked, Witty, and Swoon-worthy Heroes Page 148