She couldn’t help a tiny inward smile at the sound of the sophisticated, worldly Sebastien Wolff reduced to panting monosyllables. His voice was ragged with longing. At least she wasn’t the only one losing her mind.
A ball of unexpected emotion tightened her chest.Hers.Even if it was only for tonight, this glorious man was hers. She arched beneath him. “More. Give me more. Don’t stop.”
He let out a shaky, laughing exhale. “Whatever the lady wants. Your wish is my command.”
He slid back, then forward again, and she felt the glowing embers of her previous climax flutter back to life. He set a lazy pace but soon it wasn’t enough. Anya clutched his shoulders and urged him on as his steady rhythm gradually became more urgent. Her body fit his like an exquisite glove, yielding sweetly as the sparks of pleasure grew.
Control began to spiral away. She lost the ability to speak English. She reverted to Russian, panting, issuing hoarse commands and pleas in her native tongue.
“Yes, there… no, wait!—yes, more…”
It wasn’t modest or restrained. It was wild, perfectly abandoned. He caught her thigh and drew her leg up,around his hip, and the slight change in angle sent her one step closer to oblivion. He drew her on a breathless, upward arc until another crest of pleasure crashed over her, beating against the confines of her body in a sparkle of scarlet and black.
With a hoarse groan, he withdrew from her body and pressed himself against her belly. Every muscle in his body went rigid. Anya clutched him tight, savoring the sweat-slicked heat of him, the glorious masculine weight as he spent himself against her.
Panting, she blinked up at the ceiling, drowning in the aftermath of sensation. No longer a virgin, but she didn’t have a single regret. She’d never felt so replete, so utterly boneless. Making love with Sebastien Wolff was like being caught in a tempest or a blizzard, a sublime force of nature. She felt shaken and yet oddly peaceful.
He rolled aside with a deep sigh of repletion. “God in heaven, woman, that was good.”
The bed creaked as he lifted away from her and left the bed. She could only just see him in the light that filtered in from the study, but it was enough to appreciate the sight of him totally and unashamedly naked. She stared at his beautiful broad shoulders, the long line of his back, the hollowed indents on the sides of his buttocks. Her mouth went dry.
He poured water from the pitcher into the porcelain bowl on the washstand, dipped and wrung out the washcloth, and brought it back to her, utterly unself-conscious. Anya felt heat rise in her cheeks as he gazed down at her with a smile.
“Here. Use this.”
Pretending she’d done this countless times before, she used the cloth to clean the pearly fluid from her skin, glad that he was being so matter-of-fact about the whole process. He was clearly used to such casual intimacy.The thought that he’d done this with other women sent a shaft of jealousy through her, but she pushed it away. Tonight, he was hers.
He tugged back the covers and she slipped beneath them. Would he leave her now?
He slid in beside her and gathered her in his arms, turning her so her back was curved into his chest, and Anya let out a deep sigh of contentment. She’d never been naked with another person before, but it felt so natural to be with him like this. She smiled into the darkness and closed her eyes.
The heat generated between their bodies was incredible. He pressed a kiss to the top of her head and her heart gave an odd, panicked flutter. She might have been ice before, but she was well and truly melted now.
Chapter 26.
Wolff wasn’t there when she awoke, but Anya couldn’t recall him leaving during the night. Pale light filtered through the window, and she realized it was only just past dawn.
What was she to make of his absence? Should she be insulted? Grateful? Relieved?
A sliver of apprehension wormed its way into her belly. Last night, it had been so easy to lose herself in the moment, to forget that morning would come. But she’d have to face Wolff sooner or later. Would he treat her differently today? Would he carry on as if nothing had happened?
She needed to think, to consider all the ramifications, but she couldn’t do it here, not with the scent of him on the sheets and the memory of his kisses still fresh on her skin. Just the thought of him scrambled her brain. She would go to the stables. The unjudgmental presence of the horses would be a welcome comfort.
She tugged on the breeches and shirt she’d worn tothe park, then slipped down the stairs and let herself out into the mews yard without encountering anyone. The grey, Borodino, tossed his head and whickered in greeting, and she stroked his velvety nose.
“It’s all right,” she crooned. “Whatever horrors you’ve seen, they’re behind you now. You’re safe here.”
Her heart contracted sharply. The horse was lucky indeed to have been rescued by such a kind-hearted man. Sebastien had provided a safe haven for the traumatized animal. He must have seen equally dreadful things himself during the war. Did he, as many soldiers did, experience nightmares that plunged him right back into the hell of battle? Who did he have to comforthim?
With a jolt, Anya realized she wanted it to be her. She wanted to make him laugh in honest enjoyment, to be the one he came to when he couldn’t sleep. She wanted to be his friend and his confidante. The one who lightened his days and eased his nights.
She felt more for him than mere liking. More than simple lust. She understood him, with a soul-deep recognition. It was far too easy to imagine herself living here at the Tricorn, becoming a permanent part of his world.
It could never happen, of course. He saw her as nothing more than a temporary diversion, and surely Vasili wouldn’t be staying in London for much longer. She had a few weeks, at most, to enjoy being with Wolff before she’d have to return to Covent Garden and slip back into her dreary life.
A shuffling step in the straw made her turn, expecting the stable lad, but a larger figure entered the barn. He looked vaguely familiar, and Anya’s stomach dropped in sudden dismay as she placed him: the third kidnapper from Hounslow Heath, the one who’d ridden away.
He smiled as he advanced, showing several missingteeth. “Good morning, Princess,” he said in Russian. “I’ve been looking for you.”
