Page 52 of You Belong to Me
That was an understatement, but he maneuvered himself to whisper in her ear, “Then why am I still trembling?”
“I don’t feel—”
He was quick to interrupt. “Of course you don’t, bundled up in that blanket as you are, when all you need are the top ones—and me.”
“Petroff—”
He cut her off again. “If you don’t believe I’m trembling, come closer.”
“No, I’ll take your word for it.”
“Which is what I did, took you at your word, yet you’re not giving me all of your heat.” His voice sounded accusing now. “Or is it that you don’t have anything on underneath that blanket?”
“Yes, but—”
“Then what’s the difference if you remove it? I don’t call that sharing—”
“Allright!”
Beneath the top blankets, she shoved down the one she’d been wrapped in, but no lower than her hips. Actually, she doubled it over her backside, as a sort of shield against what she’d felt.
Vasili almost laughed. She now knew that he wanted her, she couldn’t not know, but she wouldn’t mention it. He knew this game very well. Instead of leaving the bed, offended or outraged, she was playing the game, making the traditional huffs and puffs of supposed protest. The moves would continue to be his, while she continued to pretend she didn’t know what he was doing. It would be a game well played, with a satisfactory conclusion for them both.
And he refused to listen to the voice that warned him that his Alexandra was too direct and straightforward to countenance such games.
Instead he ran through his favorite lines for seduction—and realized that none were appropriate for this particular woman. Honesty, plain and simple, was what was needed and for once, honesty was going to win the game.
But not yet, that voice cautioned. This woman required patience, even if it killed him, and it just might.
Still without touching her, he surrounded her with his body. He hadn’t seen what she was wearing, but he could feel it now, some sort of sleeveless camisole, thick and sturdy, nothing frilly. He imagined her in silk and lace and nearly groaned.
After a moment more, he pressed his face to the back of her neck, rubbing it against her hair and skin. He felt her shiver and pounced on this reaction.
“If you’re getting cold,” he said huskily, “my arms might help.”
“No! I’m not!” she assured him. “In fact, I’m getting too wa—”
“I can’t tell you how much I appreciate this, Alex,” he replied.
Another sigh, exasperated in tone. He wanted her relaxed again, but she wasn’t cooperating.
“Am I making you nervous?”
“Of course not.”
“Good, because I don’t think this is going to work until you—”
Vasili said no more, waiting for her curiosity to get the better of her. Tactics like these rarely failed, and they didn’t now, but it took nearly ten seconds, much longer than he would have figured.
“What?”
“Until you lie on top of me.”
The tension was almost palpable, right up until she exploded with “That does it!” and sat up, throwing back the blankets to get out of bed.
Desperation made Vasili much quicker, his arm snaking around her waist to pull her back down, his chest moving over hers to hold her there, his mouth catching her protest, hushing it for the moment. He had only seconds to win her over, he knew; he could feelher pushing against his shoulders. If he lost this time…
Alexandra was lost. She’d fought it from the moment he had removed his shirt and revealed all that golden skin, and contours more masculine than she could have imagined. She’d closed her eyes to fight it, appalled by what the mere sight of his naked chest had done to her. And she’d almost told him to sleep on the floor after all.
