She subsided in degrees against the wall, her palms pressed against the cool mirror, and wanted to cry in frustration. Her body throbbed, her nipples were tight little points in her bra, and her core ached with the need to have him inside her, driving them both to completion.
It had been too long. Far too long.
And she would lose her nerve by the time they got back to the bungalow. Ryan was there, and Blake, and she couldn’t see herself letting go, knowing they were in the next room.
She wanted to sob in frustration, but only closed her eyes and breathed deeply, trying to regain her sense of self. It was good this had happened, she told herself. Good she knew her limits.
“I want to go now,” she said.
He tipped her chin up, his gaze searching hers. What he saw there must have told him what she was feeling inside. He let her go and stepped back, away from her.
“So this ends here, da? You kiss me, want me, but you cannot admit it to yourself beyond this moment.”
“It’s not a good idea, Roman. For either of us.”
“Why should this be? I want you. You want me. How is this a problem?”
She picked up the bag of chocolates she’d dropped, and clutched it to her chest as if it were a shield. “You know why it’s a problem,” she said, her throat closing over the words. “You hate me and—”
“I don’t hate you,” he said sharply.
It was her turn to gape. He swore and raked a hand through his hair, then turned and tucked his shirt in again. The color in his cheeks was high, the sharp blades of his cheekbones standing out in his starkly handsome face.
She wanted to go to him, wanted to pull his head down to hers and just hold him close. Forget, for a few moments, all the pain and heartbreak between them.
She wouldn’t, though. She couldn’t.
“I left you,” she said. “I married another man.”
He spun on her, his eyes blazing. “I know this. But in order to hate you, I would have had to love you first. I didn’t, Caroline. I only thought I did.”
* * *
It was a lie.
They zipped through the streets of Beverly Hills in silence, the only sound the roar of the engine as Roman whipped in and out of traffic. He’d told her he hadn’t loved her, but it was a lie. He had loved her with everything he had in him. Which, God knew, wasn’t much. No wonder she’d left him.
He’d returned to New York convinced he hated her. But when he’d held her in his arms tonight, he hadn’t felt hatred. He’d felt lust and want and the urgent need to possess her. Hate had had no place in what he felt then.
Roman made the turn into the hotel and pulled up to the valet stand. Across the street, photographers milled, no doubt searching for the latest celebrity scandal. But he was just as good, so they soon came running over, cameras flashing and microphones at the ready, while he cursed himself for not using a more private entrance.
“Mr. Kazarov, is it true you’re sleeping with Bambi Royale? What are you doing in L.A.? Any plans to buy up any stores here? Is Hall’s vulnerable?”
Roman ignored them, going to Caroline’s side and ushering her into the hotel. She said nothing, but kept her head down and hugged those damn chocolates close as if they were a prized possession.
Why had he stopped her back there? Why hadn’t he let her rip his clothes off in the middle of that dressing room, with the public only a thin wall away? It wouldn’t be the first time he’d had sex in a risky place.
He’d taken her into the dressing room because he’d needed to kiss her, needed to stoke the fires of her desire for him. He hadn’t expected the flame to get out of control, though God knew he should have. If the past was anything to go by, he should have known they would burn hot the moment they touched.
Foolishly, he’d thought he had his desire for her under control. She was just a woman, after all, and he knew how to handle women. But the minute she’d kissed him, he’d gone up in smoke. A small, rational part of his brain had known he couldn’t make love to her against the wall of a dressing room—but he’d wanted to.
God, how he’d wanted to.
She’d practically begged him to do it. But he wanted more than a hasty screw in a public place. He wanted to spread her out before him on a bed, like a banquet of delights that he had all the time in the world to sample.
They reached the bungalow and went inside. The house was quiet. She glanced at her watch, as if seeking a way out of an awkward situation.
“Blake has probably put Ryan to bed,” she said. “I think I’m headed there, too.”
All Roman had to do was kiss her. Step into her space, wrap his arms around her and bend her backward. She would fall, her resolve crumbling like a domino toppling over.
And yet that wasn’t enough for him. He wanted more than her surrender. Needed more. But he recognized it would not happen tonight. There was too much between them now, too many raw feelings. She wanted escape; he could see that.
And perhaps it was best for them both. He had to deal with this aching in his chest, this feeling of rawness that had accompanied his outburst that he didn’t hate her. He’d lived with the hatred for so long that its sudden absence left him reeling and unsure.
“This is a good idea,” he said coolly. “In the morning, we’ll go back to the store, only this time we’ll announce ourselves.”
He had to focus on business, because it was the one thing he understood right now. The only solid foundation beneath his feet.
She dipped her chin to her chest briefly, and then looked up again, her hazel eyes clouded. “That sounds perfect.”
“Good night, Caroline,” he said, before turning and walking toward his room.
“Good night,” she replied, her voice soft and somewhat uncertain. He almost turned and went back to her. Almost, but not quite. He shut the door behind him and stood there for a long minute. But there was no soft tread on the floor, no knock on his door.
Roman swore softly before peeling his clothes off and climbing into bed alone.
* * *
Caroline didn’t know what time it was when she finally gave up the pretense of sleep and flipped the covers back. Her heart had been racing for hours now, as if she’d drunk a vat of coffee right before bed. It wasn’t caffeine, though. It was Roman.
She couldn’t stop replaying every moment of the evening, from the second he’d asked her if the chocolates were blueberry flavored, until the minute he’d turned and walked away from her, only hours ago. She wanted a do-over. She wanted to be cool and aloof in answer to his query, and she most definitely didn’t want to slide a piece of chocolate into his luscious mouth.
And she could really do without hot, almost-sex up against a mirror in one of her own department stores. What was the matter with her? Had she lost every last shred of self-respect she possessed? Was she really the kind of woman who abandoned herself in a public place for the sake of a man’s touch?
She was very afraid she was, at least when that man was Roman.
Caroline pulled on a robe over her silk pajamas and went to the kitchen for a drink. The house was dark, quiet, the only sounds those of the air purifiers whirring softly in the night and the hum of the refrigerator. She grabbed a cool bottle of sparkling water and twisted off the cap. She stood there for a long while, thinking and sipping the water, until she heard a splash, as if someone was diving into the pool.
She padded over to the glass doors fronting the pool area and slid them open. A man cut through the water in smooth even strokes. Roman.
She stood for a long minute, watching the beautiful grace of his body as he swam, the bunch and stretch of muscles, the way his hands barely came out of the water before slicing back in again, propelling him forward like a machine.
He reached the end of the pool, and then disappeared beneath the surface, only to pop up again almost halfway to the other side. He swam for several lengths before he went under and didn’t come back up again.
She waited, ex
pecting him to surface, but nothing happened. Caroline’s heart did a flip in her chest, and then she stumbled across the pool deck to the edge. Her water bottle—plastic, fortunately—fell to the deck with a crunch as she started to yank her robe off.
He split the surface right in front of her, and she bit back a scream of surprise.
“You scared the hell out of me!” she yelled, her heart hammering, her pulse throbbing hot.
Water rolled down his face. He dragged a hand over his hair, slicking it to his head as he stood in the center of the pool, completely unharmed and unflappable. Caroline wanted to throw something at him. If she’d still been holding the water bottle, she would have used that.
“I did not know you were there,” he said smoothly.
“That’s not much of an apology,” she told him sharply. And then her mouth went dry as she watched fat drops of water slide down his chest and over the hard ridges of his abs, visible above the waterline.
“It wasn’t intended to be one.”
Caroline closed her eyes for a second. “I thought you were drowning.”
“Then I thank you for caring,” he said. “I would have thought you might believe it would solve all your problems if I were to disappear.”
She started to deliver a sharp retort, but bit it back at the last second. “You’re teasing me. That’s not nice.”
He shrugged and moved toward the edge of the pool where she stood. “Perhaps I am.”
Her robe decided at that minute to stop clinging to her shoulders and puddle at her feet. She resisted the urge to snatch it up and cover her body. Not that she was indecent, but the thin silk of her pajamas felt so much more revealing in the middle of the night than her dresses did during the day.
“I was worried,” she added unnecessarily. And then she huffed. “Do you have any idea the headache it would cause me were you to drown in my presence? I’m sure there are some who would claim I planned it.”
Roman stood beneath her now. He tilted his head back to look up at her. “Then I will be sure not to drown in your presence.”
“That is much appreciated,” she said.
He grinned. “And now you may want to turn around. Unless you wish to see more of me than you bargained for.”
Caroline’s throat closed up. Oh my. “You’re...naked?”
She hadn’t noticed that. She’d been standing in the doorway, and he’d been moving too fast. She’d been thinking about the smooth beauty of his body in the water, not wondering if he happened to be wearing trunks. And then when she had come closer, he’d been beneath the surface. She hadn’t yet realized...
Oh. My. Heavens.
“There didn’t seem much point in putting on a swimsuit at three in the morning,” he told her seriously.
It was suddenly too hot. Tiny beads of sweat formed between her breasts, and her nipples beaded tight against her silk top. Roman’s gaze narrowed, and she reached up to fold her arms over her breasts. Let him think what he wanted. It was nothing to do with him, and everything to do with the heat and the breeze and—
Damn it, it was him. Caroline lifted her chin. “There are other people in this house,” she said primly. “Any one of us might have come out here.”
He actually laughed. “Because so many people like to swim at three in the morning. Not to mention the other occupants of this house, besides you, are male.”
“Yes, well, one of them is very likely to find what you’re displaying quite attractive. Just so you know.”
“I’d guessed that already. I’d also guessed that he realizes I am far more attracted to you than to him.”
Caroline sniffed. “That’s no reason to run around naked, now is it?”
“I like being naked,” he said, and her heart skipped a beat. “Surely you remember this?”
“I remember you’re an exhibitionist,” she said. It wasn’t quite true, but she’d never seen anyone more comfortable in his own skin than Roman. “How could I forget?”
His lips curled in a smile. “How indeed? And if you don’t wish to see the exhibition, then I suggest you turn around.”
She meant to turn around. She planned to turn around. But it suddenly seemed so ridiculous to do so. As if she were a child whose mother had put a hand over her eyes to stop her from seeing something she wanted to see.
She cocked a hip in that bored manner she affected with him when she wanted him to think she was so cool and controlled. “One can look without touching.”
“Can one? Interesting.”
Before she could answer, or rethink her show of bravado, he rose from the pool in a smooth, liquid move, like a water god rising from the sea.
And she didn’t turn away. Water ran down his body in rivulets, over the hard muscles of his torso and abdomen, over his hip bones, down the trail of dark hair that ran from his belly button to his groin, and down the hard, strong legs that propelled him over to the chair where he picked up a towel and rubbed his head.
Caroline’s breathing grew shallow. Hot need spiraled inside her belly, flowed into her limbs, melted in her core until she felt rubbery and unable to move. Oh, what a mistake she’d made in not turning around.
A huge, huge mistake.
He still hadn’t moved to wrap the towel around his body. Instead, he dried off slowly, surely, each inch of him more perfect and beautiful than the last.
She was mesmerized. And she realized, standing there with her feet glued to the pool deck, that she hadn’t seen a naked man in five long years. Not since the last time she’d seen Roman naked.
He turned and wrapped the towel around his hips, tucking it in until it lay right below his hip bones. And, oh, she wanted to press her mouth there, just there, right beside his hip. And then she wanted to lick her way across his hard abdomen, and down the happy trail to where his thick penis lay.
She would take him in her mouth, feel him grow impossibly hard against her tongue....
“Caroline.” His voice was like a whip cracking in her ear.
“What?” she said sharply, her pulse thrumming in her wrists, her throat.
“Don’t look at me like that unless you intend to do something about it.”
“I have no idea what you mean,” she said, bending to scoop up her robe. Except she was far too hot to put it back on, so she balled it up and held it at her side.
He only looked at her, with that superior smirk on his face. Caroline closed her eyes. Damn it, she was tired of pretending she didn’t have needs. She wanted to stop being strong, and she wanted to go to him and run her fingers over that hot, smooth skin. She wanted to follow with her mouth, and she wanted to let him do every last thing to her that he wanted to do.
She knew from experience how amazing and formidable he was in bed, and she ached to know that kind of pleasure again.
What would it hurt? What could it hurt? They were here, in California, in a gorgeous private bungalow in the middle of the night. If she slept with him once, if she got him out of her system, there would be no need for a repeat.
Then she could concentrate on beating him at his own game.
“You’re lying,” he said softly when she opened her eyes again, moving toward her on silent, graceful feet. He stopped in front of her, so close but not quite close enough. A drop of water fell from his hair and landed on her silk pajama top, spreading outward over her nipple. Molding what she knew he could already see.
“I might be,” she said softly, her gaze on his, her heart pumping hard at the heat in his eyes. “And what if I am?”
“Then do something about it, solnyshko. Take what you want.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
Caro and Kazarov Setting Up Love Nest?
THE NIGHT WAS oddly silent as they stood facing each other, close enough to touch but neither moving to do so. Caroline’s heart was a trapped bird in her chest. She was afraid, desperately afraid, that if she did this, if she moved toward him as she wanted, something would change.
That she would lose a part of
herself, irrevocably, if she did. She’d worked hard to forget him—not that forgetting him had been possible. Perhaps, instead, she’d worked hard to put him behind her. Where he needed to be. If she let him back in now, then what?
“Once,” she said. “Only this once.”
She expected him to agree. She expected him to say yes, absolutely, now drop the clothing. What man wouldn’t agree if it meant having sex?
But Roman stood there, silent and brooding, and shook his head slowly, deliberately, until a slow burn started in her belly and rose into her throat, her cheeks.
“Take what you want, Caroline. But understand that from now on, I shall also take what I want. As often as I want. There will be no hiding from what this is, not this time. You aren’t going home at the end of the evening and pretending it didn’t happen.”
His words smarted. And yet she was still thinking about it. Still aching and needing. Wishing there was a way. Could she accept his conditions? There was no one to stop her this time, no one to tell her she couldn’t have what she wanted.
“You drive a hard bargain,” she said, her eyes fixed on his. “Perhaps an impossible bargain.”
“Then walk away, my darling,” he told her. “Go back to your bed and pleasure yourself, as I am sure you have had to do far too often.”
She felt as if he’d slapped her. She thought of lying in her bed, alone, her hands running over her breasts, down her body, her fingers sliding to where she needed them most. It was too lonely, too clinical, to contemplate. Not when he was here, this hot, beautiful, dangerous man who had once known her body so well.
“I—I’ve not been with anyone in a long time,” she told him. It was the truth, but not the whole truth. How could she admit she’d been with no one but him, ever? To admit it would not only make her pitiful in his eyes, it would also give away the truth of Ryan’s parentage. And she couldn’t do that just yet. Not until she was certain Roman wouldn’t do something drastic.
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