“Thank you, I appreciate it.”
“That doesn’t mean I can’t wish you a good-night, though. Sweet dreams.”
Before she could say another word, he bent to kiss her gently, sweetly on her lips. He felt her lean toward him, but this time, rather than lose himself in the caress, he forced himself to keep it brief—to pull away and to leave them both wanting more. If he had to go to bed in a state of torment, then so could she. It was only fair.
He hesitated in her doorway on his way out. “My room is just down the hall if you change your mind.”
And with that parting comment he left her alone.
It took Yasmin longer to get to sleep than she’d expected, considering how exhausted she’d been when Ilya had left her. But weariness aside, his kisses had fired up her imagination and as she lay between the cool crisp sheets of her lonely bed she couldn’t help wondering what her wedding night could have been like if she’d just been brave enough to reach for him after that sweet goodnight and beg him to show her more.
She had no doubt he would be a consummate lover. From what she could tell, the man was incredibly accomplished in all that he did. And now she was married to him. She had the rest of her life to discover just how skilled he was. If they went the distance.
The next morning she rose and went downstairs, following the sound of a blender to a large kitchen. Ilya stood at the granite kitchen counter, oblivious to her entry. She took a moment to watch him—to appreciate the way his Henley hugged the muscles of his shoulders and skimmed his pecs. A decrepit pair of jeans hugged his hips and she felt that all too familiar tingle through her body as she noticed how the denim had faded in certain areas. The blender stopped and Ilya looked up, a smile creasing his face as he saw her hovering in the doorway.
“Good morning,” he said. “I hope you slept well.”
“Thank you. I did, eventually.”
Yasmin perched on one of the bar stools that lined the counter and watched as he poured two smoothies into tall glasses. Ilya pushed one toward her.
“I figured if we were so perfectly matched, you’d probably like one of these for breakfast,” he said with a crooked grin. “But if you’d prefer bacon and eggs, I can do that, too.”
“No, this is fine. I don’t usually have breakfast anyway.”
“Well, you’ll need the energy for what I’ve got planned this morning.”
“Oh?” She looked up at him, raising one brow.
“I love the way you do that,” he said, reaching out and stroking her brow with a fingertip.
The sensation of his skin against hers made her hand tremble and she set her glass down on the counter with a sharp click. Ilya laughed and turned his attention to his smoothie, downing most of it in one gulp.
“And what is it you have planned for the morning?” Yasmin asked, picking up her glass again and taking a sip. “Oh, that’s good,” she exclaimed in surprise. “What did you put in it?”
“First question first. We’re going for a hike. Have you got hiking boots or something suitable in your suitcase? If not, we can do something else. As to the smoothie, that’s a closely guarded secret,” he said with a sly wink. “One day I might let you in on it.”
She chuckled. “Well, in the meantime I shall just appreciate your culinary expertise. And, as to shoes, I have something suitable for a hike. What time do you want to head out?”
“Probably in half an hour or so. Think you can be ready by then?”
“I was born ready,” she answered, finishing off her smoothie and hopping down from her seat.
“Good to know,” Ilya responded.
His voice was deep and reverberated through her in a way that sent her senses scrambling. She had the distinct feeling they were speaking along completely different lines. Yasmin took her glass over to the sink and rinsed it out. It was easier to fake being busy with something than it was to acknowledge exactly what kind of an effect her new husband had on her.
“This is a nice kitchen,” she said, striving for more neutral conversational territory. “Did you have it installed or did it come like this when you bought the house?”
“I bought the house pretty much as you see it,” he said. “With the exception of the furnishings and art. Why don’t I show you the rest before we head out?”
She nodded and followed him as he led the way out of the kitchen and through to a casual sitting area. A massive television dominated most of one wall.
“Wow,” she exclaimed. “All you need is a cooler in the side of your chair and you’ll be living every man’s dream, won’t you?”
“Hey, when I watch the air races I want to feel like I’m in them, not just a spectator.”
“I understand. Although nothing quite beats the real thing.”
“Speaking of which, are you going to take me up in your Ryan anytime soon?”
“I heard you don’t like being a passenger—that you prefer to hold on to the controls yourself.”
She said the words lightly, but she understood them on her own level. She’d spent years side by side with her grandfather restoring the Ryan to flying condition and had worked really hard to earn her rating to fly it. No one took that plane up but her.
“Where did you hear that?” Ilya asked, his brows drawing into a straight line.
“Oh, it’s pretty common knowledge around the airport. You know how people talk.”
“What else do they say about me?” Ilya asked, moving closer to her.
She could feel the heat that emanated from his body. It was like a magnet, drawing her closer. She nearly always felt cold, but with him around, she doubted she’d ever need an extra layer again.
“Oh, that you’re a hard worker and a reasonable boss.”
“That’s it?”
“Hey, you wouldn’t tell me what was in the smoothie, so I’m not sharing all my secrets. A girl’s got to hold something back, right?”
He laughed again and Yasmin felt her lips kick up in an answering smile.
“So I’m an overbearing pilot, a hard worker and a reasonable boss.”
Her grin widened at the chagrin with which he said the word reasonable. “I never said overbearing. But if the shoe fits...?”
He reached out to catch her shoulders with his hands. Heat seared through her top and penetrated her skin. Her heart rate kicked up a notch. Was he going to kiss her again? Part of her hoped he would, while the other... The other part wasn’t ready to face the tumult of sensation he set off in her. It was a weakness she needed to learn to shore up, and swiftly, if they were to remain on an even playing field when it came to this marriage. She had too much to lose otherwise.
To a lot of people, marrying sight unseen just to save her business was an extreme measure. Heck, even to her it was extreme. But to win the Hardacre contract, she had to be married. It was as simple as that. It was frustrating that, in this day and age, her business was held hostage by Wallace Hardacre’s wandering eye and his wife’s jealousy. But if getting married meant she’d win the five-year exclusive contract ensuring her company