by Risk, Mona
“We’ll eat the rest for breakfast.”
Was he planning to keep her here all night? Cecile raised an uncertain gaze toward him. They hadn’t discussed her return to the hotel. To be on the safe side, she’d packed her suitcases for tomorrow’s trip before coming to see him.
Sergei didn’t notice her bewilderment. He opened a bottle and poured vodka into the shot glasses. He sat on the sofa and patted the place next to him. “Come, my Cecilya, let’s celebrate our date.” She slid beside him. He raised his glass. “To the beautiful woman who brought rays of sunshine back to my heart.”
He couldn’t have offered her a nicer compliment. She felt tears prickling her eyes. “Thank you, Sergei, I want to make you as happy as you’ve made me.”
His gaze focused on her as he emptied his glass.
On a sudden impulse, she clanked her glass to his and said, “Bottoms up,” and downed the drink.
Her lashes flickered, her eyes tickled. She saw hundreds of stars dancing in front of her.
Sergei’s jaw sagged. “Holla! What do you think you’re doing?”
She giggled. “I’m trying to act like a Belarusian lady.”
He burst out laughing. “A Belarusian lady drinking bottoms up! John and I were teasing you. Oh, my Cecilya, you are a unique gem. And you’re doing this to please me?”
He smoothed away a strand of hair that fell across her eyes. She held his hand and pressed it against her cheek. How she wanted her general. She had known him for less than a week and yet she claimed him as her hero. He belonged to her, or rather she wanted to belong to him.
Sergei scooped her onto his lap. She cuddled into the curve of his arm and flattened herself on his chest, raking her fingers through his hair. She wouldn’t trade her place for all the treasures of the world. Sergei’s arms anchored her to the only paradise where she could find happiness.
His lips devoured hers. His tongue slid into her mouth and entwined with hers. Passion and vodka enflamed their caresses.
Unable to breathe, she snatched her mouth away and rested her head on his shoulder. Her arms hooked around his back, her lips crushed against the soft skin of his throat, she inhaled the smell of his cologne and closed her eyes, feeling content.
* * * * *
Afraid to move and disturb her, Sergei kept her in his arms for several minutes. Cecile’s head nested comfortably against the hollow of his neck. He caressed her hair and whispered, “Sweetheart, let’s go to bed.”
She didn’t answer. He eased away. Gently moving her away from his shoulder, he raised his voice. “Cecilya, my love…Cecile?”
He released her head. It fell back to his chest. Asleep.
Sergei’s heavy sigh interrupted the total silence of the room.
It was their first night together. And their last one for a long time.
Chapter Eleven
Sergei contemplated the pretty face resting against his arm. Her lashes formed a smooth arch on her cheeks and her lips, swollen from his kisses, parted releasing regular breaths. The jet lag, the busy schedule, the long wakeful hours and the alcohol had overcome her resistance. She’d finally let go and slept like an innocent child in his arms. Tenderness overwhelmed his heart. What good would it do to wake her now?
Her flexible body cradled against his chest, he straightened up and glided to the bedroom. He laid her on the bed, flipped over the comforter, then moved her back onto the sheets. She was sound asleep. He sighed and decided he too could use some rest. They would sleep entwined in each other’s arms and wake up in the same bed. He smiled, somehow comforted by the idea. At least this particular scene would happen as planned.
Sergei removed his clothing, keeping on only his boxer shorts. He lay down beside her, then realized that he couldn’t let her sleep with all her clothes on—especially when he was practically naked. He scratched his head and debated how to go about it. What the heck! He had undressed enough women in his life.
Still, his conscience prickled him. He hesitated. Cecile was asleep and unaware of his intentions. Oh well, she came here willingly and it would help her sleep better.
He unzipped the wool skirt and lowered it. His body stiffened, a normal healthy reaction to the gesture of disrobing the woman he desired so much. Cecile wore a long slip. Sergei relaxed. At least, she was decently covered from his coveting gaze. He draped the skirt over the back of a chair and examined her blouse.
There were no buttons in the front. He turned her to the side and fumbled with the three buttons at the back. He gathered the garment above and away from her head. His ministrations didn’t wake her. Reassured, he reached under the slip, unhooked the bra and slid it out. Her breasts free from constraint spilled half out of the lacy material.
Sergei clasped his hands shut, his nails digging into his palms. His manhood was rigid and his breathing ragged. His eyes riveted on her chest, then contoured the outline of the slip. With every relaxed breath, her breasts raised in a slow recurrent motion that hypnotized him. He swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down. Trying to regain some control, he turned his head away toward the wall.
A slight movement and a deep sigh wafted from the bed, inexorably attracting his gaze back to the thin waist, the flat belly molded in white silk and the thighs half uncovered by the hiking hem of her slip. She was beautiful, well proportioned but she usually hid all her attributes under severe, dark-colored suits, long skirts and plain tops. He stared at the lithe body, the shapely legs and the generous breasts.
He bent over her. His hands, warm and moist, trembled as they slid along her waist and smoothed the satiny slip down to cover her hips and thighs. He felt her underwear and froze. Why was he torturing himself this way? There was no way on earth he could just lie beside her and ignore her.
He glanced at the face resting on his pillow and a smile curved his lips. The cool assertive American scientist—the thunderous Dr. Robota who terrified the chemists into hard work, his valiant Cecilya who embraced his cause with eagerness—was vanquished by the wine and a toast of vodka downed bottoms up.
His hand brushed a silky strand of hair from her forehead and stroked her cheek, then withdrew swiftly. Moving away from the bed, he turned off the switch, leaving the flickering light of a bedside lamp and walked out to the living room.
Sergei grabbed a knitted mohair blanket from the armoire and dropped onto the sofa without bothering to turn off the lamp on the side table.
He couldn’t believe his bad luck. She was in his bed but he was out of it.
Frustrated, he snorted, shook his head and reached for the bottle of vodka. Damn the vodka. It was responsible for his present predicament. He put the bottle away with a vengeful bang and stretched out on the sofa.
* * * * *
Cecile rubbed her temples trying to quiet the hammering pounding on her skull. Through the fog clouding her mind, she realized that the bed extended widely on both sides. She relished in its comfort and rolled around believing herself to be in her own large bed in Boston.
Reality flashed back. For almost a week, she’d been in Minsk—not in Boston—in a hotel room and the bed, far from being soft, poked at her ribs and back.
But then, this bed? Cecile bolted up and moaned, squeezing her aching forehead between her fingers.
Where the hell was she? She scanned the unfamiliar surroundings, an armoire, Russian chiffonier with a round mirror on the wall and crystal candlelight on the night table. A sudden flurry of memories swarmed into her weary mind. Last she remembered, she was cozily ensconced against Sergei’s solid chest. She spun her head right and left, searching. The impulsive movement jolted a throbbing pain inside her brain.
Cecile closed her eyes, then opened them very slowly. “He gave me his bed,” she mused. “He must be out on the sofa.”
She bit her lip. A pang of guilt invaded her heart. She removed the comforter and eased out with careful movements. The last thing she needed was a bout of dizziness. Shivering, she brought her hand to tighten
her blouse around her. Her eyes widened. She gawked at herself.
Good God, she wore no blouse, actually no bra and no skirt, only her slip. She patted her belly and exhaled with relief and embarrassment. Her bikini briefs still clung to her skin.
Dear Sergei, he’d removed the cumbersome clothes that could hinder her sleep but kept her covered enough to protect her modesty. She smiled, gratitude and appreciation overwhelming her.
Cecile drew her jacket over her shoulders and opened the bedroom door. Leaning against the wall, she glanced at the living room. His head lying on one arm of the sofa and his feet propped on the other, Sergei slept. A blanket covered him to the waist leaving his torso naked. She stared at the chest where thick black hair curled over rippling muscles. An overwhelming desire to reach, caress and kiss the wide expanse of rugged skin gripped her.
She tiptoed toward him and stood close to the sofa. Her gaze shifted from the long black lashes to the straight nose and rested on his firm lips. He slept peacefully. A hint of a boyish smile played on the mouth that had ravished hers a few hours ago. Her fingers moved toward his lips then retracted and clenched. Heat slithered through her almost naked body. Yet she trembled and inhaled deeply.
His soldier senses on alert, Sergei heard her coming out of the room. He kept his eyelids lowered and watched through his lashes. Aware of her approach and retreat, he held himself in check, waiting for her to give him a lead, to show if she wanted him as much as he wanted her. He felt her hand hovering near his face, then withdrawing.
He was hard and ready for her, yet he waited, determined not to take but to give. He would give more than she asked for—more than she would dream of—if she only came to him.
“Cecilya, you’re so beautiful.” He opened his palm to her. She put her hand in his and he pulled her down on his chest.
“Sergei,” she breathed against his mouth as she slid onto his body.
“My darling, how are you feeling?” He wrapped his arms around her and massaged her back and neck.
“Oh, this feels so good.” She wriggled under his ministrations. “I woke up with a terrible headache but it’s gone now.” Lying on top of him, Cecile brushed his lips with hers.
He reveled in the sight of her silk-clothed body sprawled on top of him and the feeling of her breasts crushed against his chest. She closed her eyes as he kept rubbing her back. Pressing her head down, he claimed her lips. His tongue plundered her mouth, stroking, swirling and tasting.
She freed her lips to breathe. He pulled both of them up. For the second time in the same night, he carried her to the bedroom.
Sergei lowered her in the middle of the bed and joined her. “Do you want to sleep?”
His question surprised her.
Cecile laughed softly. She snuggled against him and chained her fingers around his neck. “No, my darling, I’m wide awake. Your massage did wonders.” A deep sense of relaxation and contentment spread through her entire body.
His mouth rained fiery kisses along her cheek. A husky murmur reached her. “Cecilya, I want you so much.”
She cupped his face and inhaled his breath and the scent of his cologne. Her eyes locked with his, letting him read her approval. “I want you too.”
He captured her lips and ravished her mouth. Their tongues played together. Lying against his sturdy body, cushioned by rippling muscles, she relaxed and returned his kiss.
A strong leg straddled and entwined with hers. Hard muscles stroked the smoothness of her naked thigh. His hand moved between their bodies and molded her breast. He gently pinched a nipple and played with it.
Her concentration focused on his hands. Losing touch with her thoughts, she clutched his shoulders, her mind hanging on his fingers and her tongue twirling with his. Her slip was whisked away and her panties slithered down her legs.
Silence drifted over them. She opened her eyes and stole a glance at him. He sat on his haunches studying her with reverence. “Sergei,” she called softly, missing the warmth of his body against hers.
“Crassiva. You’re so beautiful.” His gaze traveled slowly over her length and his eyes sparkled with glints of sexual intent. Heat engulfed her without him even touching her. But she wanted his touch, the contact of their flesh, and her softness against his muscles.
Cecile opened her arms wide, stretched seductively and beckoned him close. “I want you.” She threaded her fingers inside the elastic band of his boxer shorts and lowered them slowly. Very slowly. Her eyes skated over the rippling muscles of his belly. He was so handsome, so gorgeously male.
Free of the shorts his erection sprang, glorious and throbbing. She smiled, pleased with the way she affected him, and extended her hand to rub his shaft with a feather-light caress. He dipped his head backward, his breathing labored.
Confident in her power to dispense as much pleasure as she received, she wrapped her fingers around him. He groaned and eased her hand away. “Enough, my darling. Now it is my turn.”
Cradling the back of her head, he claimed her lips and his tongue danced a wild waltz in her mouth. How could she forget her lover was a Belarusian officer used to being in charge, taking command, being on top? She suppressed a giggle. By all means, let him be on top of her. He slid next to her, half lying over her, exactly as she wished him to be.
Snatching his mouth away from hers, he nuzzled at her neck and trailed moist kisses all the way to her breasts, fondling them one after the other, making her heart leap and race in excitement. As he took a peak into his mouth and teased, his strong but gentle fingers slid between her thighs and crawled deep inside her to stroke and fondle. She gasped and shivered and saw silver stars dancing behind her eyelids. And suddenly she couldn’t think at all.
Drowning in pleasure, she spread her hand on his back, ushering his head toward hers. His lips moved to her mouth and his fingers released her. He rolled them both around and eased away. A drawer squealed. He protected himself and his eyes searched hers with probing intensity.
”Please now,” she whispered.
“Yes now.” But he smiled and kissed the pulse at the base of her neck, igniting more flame on her blazing flesh as his lips roamed over her breasts and moved lower to her stomach. He teased her navel with his tongue and she squirmed, her skin quivering with pleasure and anticipation.
“Now,” she panted, her heart pounding like an out-of-control drum.
His breathing heavy, he spread her legs wider. His fingers glided lower, splayed on her thighs and played with her inner folds. She moaned and writhed, clutching and kneading his shoulders, as waves of pleasure washed over her.
Then he was on top of her. Instinctively she raised her hips to meet him. He teased her, then withdrew. When she thought she would go mad with wanting, he slid deeper, rocking himself into her softness. Pleasure swept through her. She convulsed and cried out in ecstasy. A moment later, he stiffened beneath her hands, then shuddered and collapsed onto her, cradling her tightly against his body.
She dug her fingers into the taut muscles of his back, wrapped her legs tightly around him. Fused him to her so she would never let him go. They remained embraced, breathing hard. Cecile floated in and out of a fantasy world that belonged only to them and to their present.
He kissed her cheeks and eyelids and locked his hand on her breast. “My darling, how I wish I could always keep you with me.”
“Shush. Please don’t talk about the future.” Cecile knew she would burst out sobbing if he just uttered one more word about their hopeless tomorrow.
She grabbed his shoulders and sealed his lips with hers. He lingered on her mouth and deepened the pressure. Her general knew how to kiss, how to dispense pleasure and tenderness and play with every fiber of her body as if he was trebling on violin strings. She reveled in his luscious lips and his swift tongue, his gentle fingers and his sturdy body. Her nails raked on the bulging area of his arms, zigzagged down on his back, massaging his spine and kneading the hard muscles.
He released her mou
th and laid his cheek against hers. Still lying on top of her, he breathed deeply. “That feels good…hmm, so good.” He raised his chest and leaned on his elbows. “I’m sorry. I’ve been selfishly relishing your caresses. Am I too heavy for you?”
She smiled and admired the naked body looming above her, muscular and lean, not an inch of flabby flesh, just raw masculinity in all its glory. And he was hers, at least for the moment.
“Never too heavy. I’d like to keep you chained to me forever.” She pulled him down and he squeezed her against him kissing her with so much passion her eyes needled with tears.
Snatching her mouth away, she wailed, “Sergei, how am I going to go back? How am I going to leave you? I spent my life dreaming of a hero like you.”
The gentle concern in his eyes made her heart lurch. He rubbed his knuckles against her cheek. “Let me love you, my darling and you will cherish these memories until we meet again.”
* * * * *
Satiated and peaceful, Sergei rolled away from the soft form cushioning him. He raised his hand and glanced at his watch. It was five in the morning and time to move. The interlude of love had ended and the claws of the bitter daily routine clutched at his heart again. He trailed a last loving gaze over her body and face and bent to brush her lips.
“Cecilya, we need to get dressed and go.”
She opened beautiful mesmerizing eyes that gleamed like a green river spotted with brown shadows. “I’ll never forget our night of love.”
“I wish I could offer you a future.” He gathered her in his arms and kissed her, then eased from her with an audible sigh.
He helped her into the narrow shower and lathered her back. She laughed and returned the favor. They stood naked, welded to each other and kissed while the scalding water cascaded down their bodies. Stepping out of the cramped space, he handed her a towel then dried himself.
“I’ll prepare the coffee and cake while you get dressed.”
Staying around her was too tempting. Sergei pulled on his boxers, pants and turtleneck. A moment later, Cecile emerged from the bathroom barefoot, her hair wet and mussed but at least she was dressed.