“Now if you have finished with your interrogation,” Andrey said, cutting into her thoughts in a wry tone. “Who might you be?”
Ekaterina started, looking up. Her cheeks warmed as she felt the full force of his lusty gaze. He was watching her knowingly, his intense eyes hooded. She took a moment to slowly savour the sight of him. She would have loved to bask in the heat of his gaze, but she knew it was dangerous—oh, so dangerous—to dally for too long. So, lifting her chin defiantly, she turned on her heel and cast one last look over her shoulder.
“No one of interest,” she quipped.
She made as if to walk away briskly, but was stopped by a hand on her shoulder. She turned to level the stranger with a half-hearted glare, only to be met with his smouldering eyes. She swallowed, suddenly feeling light at the feeling of his fingers.
“You don’t know what I’m interested in,” Andrey returned, his voice even. “Maybe I want to have a chat with a mysterious woman in the middle of nowhere.”
Ekaterina pulled out of his grip and spun around, a frown turning down her pink lips. She inclined her head slightly, studying his chiselled face. Her mind screamed at her to leave, to turn and escape back into the palace before it was too late. But her heart and body tugged in the opposite direction; she longed to run her fingers through that thick hair, to feel the sweep of his stubbled jaw under her smooth palms, to push away his shirt and explore the mysterious expanse of muscle hidden beneath.
He was just too gorgeous.
Surely a few more minutes couldn’t hurt, she told herself. After all, he was a lowly peasant and she was a hidden princess. They would probably never meet again, and no one would be the wiser about this strange encounter.
* * *
Andrey could plainly see the war in her eyes; she wanted to stay and yet felt she had to go.
I don’t want her to go.
The yearning was an insistent tug, pounding like the blood in his veins. He wanted to hear her voice, feel the curve of her body against his and paint the canvas of her flesh with his lips. But she looked ready to flee, and he did not want to lose his chance. Her sweet face and honest sincerity were a balm to his frazzled nerves. He hated palace life. When it wasn’t stuffy and pretentious, it was dirty and dusty. Even worse were the palace girls; their faces false with makeup, and their voices forcibly high-pitched. So, while the wilderness was his usual escape, he longed to spend even a few more moments with this woman.
And so before she could make up her mind, he took her by the arms and pulled her into his chest.
* * *
Ekaterina’s senses were suddenly overcome by the feeling of Andrey’s hard chest against hers and the musky scent beneath his chin. She inhaled sharply, but couldn’t find the resolve to pull away immediately.
“Don’t go,” Andrey murmured softly.
She could barely hear him over the wild pounding of her heart. She craned her head back to look up at him, and was instantly arrested by his sultry gaze. He had her pinned in place with his arms around her slim shoulders and his green eyes locked with hers. He could feel her heart beat against his chest; it was like the mad fluttering of a butterfly’s wings. One of his arms slipped down to wind about her thin waist while his fingers trailed along her cheek. His fingertips were hot against her cool skin, and Ekaterina instinctively leaned into his warmth.
There was something between them; a magnetism that drew them closer and set their skin aflame with hunger. Neither could explain it, but it was warm and pulsing and perfect—as real as their breathing, which caused miniature clouds to fan across their cheeks in moist puffs of warm air. Every sense was heightened, and the hyperawareness was a pleasurable pain.
Ekaterina shivered suddenly, and Andrey pulled her closer. He was so tall, she thought breathlessly, and his hands felt unusually large on her hips. Her knees went weak as he drew her closer, leaning in slowly as if pulled forward by an invisible force. He gathered her tightly in his strong arms, his muscles bunching under his linen shirt. He held her gaze until their noses were nearly touching...and then his lips were on hers, searching gently. Her eyes drifted closed as the sensation of his warm mouth on hers overwhelmed her completely.
* * *
Andrey kissed her slowly, tenderly moving his lips over hers. Then he grew bolder, suckling at her bottom lip and sweeping his tongue past her lips. She obliged with innocent fervour, a small moan escaping her as he explored her mouth with his tongue. His fingers fisted in the material of her overcoat and he dragged her closer still, driven by the instinct to crush her body to his, to feel every inch of her body against his.
Not enough, his blood sang as his kisses grew in intensity.
With an impatient grunt, Andrey grabbed at the ends of her coat and pulled it open, his palms searching within the rough material. His hands met the thin cotton of a light shift, and he paused. He pulled away from their fevered kiss to glance down at what he had just unveiled. The sight made the slow rolling of desire in his stomach pitch into a full boil, spiking down his legs and up his chest. He briefly wondered why she was allowing such familiarity, but he was not about to lose his advantage. He pressed forward.
Ekaterina stood stunned in his arms, her blue eyes wide and glazed over in passion and her lips swollen and pouting from their kiss. Her long, creamy neck led to a delicate collarbone. And her cotton dress swept over the rest of her body in a slightly see-through column of fabric. Had the girl no sense whatsoever? The coat had hidden her well, he mused, but the dress revealed almost all. His impassioned eyes took in the pert swell of her unbound breasts, and the dark peaks of her stiff nipples were beads that stood out in sharp relief beneath the thin material. He could just make out the silhouette of her hourglass figure; the arc of her waist, the rise of her bottom and the sweet curves of her impossibly long legs.
He grew as hard as rock, the straining uncomfortable against the scratchy material of his trousers. In awe at her beauty, his fingers traced invisible paint strokes over her body. She shuddered, and he snapped.
He was on fire, and she was his only salve.
In two long strides, he walked her back to the trunk of a tree, his hands cupping the backs of her thighs and his mouth ravaging hers. Her breathing hitched as he nipped at her lips with his teeth, and she twisted her fingers in his hair. He pushed his hands down her body, and she twined her slim wrists at the nape of his neck. His fingers grabbed at the hem of her dress, and he slid his palms up her bare legs with a groan. He pulled at her thighs and lifted her off the ground, hooking her knees over his hips and pushing her back into the tree trunk. She arched backward, a gasp of delight on her lips as he ground his groin to hers. He pushed her dress even higher, aching for more contact, and pressed open-mouthed kisses to her neck, his fingers plucking at the tips of her breasts. Revelling in her soft mewls of pleasure, he continued to stroke her body into such flames of pleasure that she writhed against him, her body bucking insistently against his. He claimed her mouth once again, and one of his hands dipped low to catch the inside of her thighs. She whimpered and dug her nails into his biceps, clutching at him as his fingers played a symphony against her core.
* * *
For her part, Ekaterina could hardly understand what was happening between them. One minute she’d been admiring the gorgeous stranger, and the next she was being covered in his kisses! It was scandalous, terrifying and...absolutely wonderful. She knew she shouldn’t be letting herself get carried away so completely, but she’d never felt desire so fiercely before. So she threw caution to the wind and let him sweep her away in sensation.
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