“That almost sounds like you are admitting to having a heart.”
“Nyet,” he denied in uncompromising Russian. “But a soul? Yes, that I have. Somehow, Ramona Grayson, you have found the way to touch it.”
Even if he thought that would end one day, that their marriage wasn’t about being soul mates, that admission right there was a better reason to take a chance on this man than all the blackmail in the world.
The kiss that followed was another promise in itself. A vow between the two of them that could not be pretended or ignored away. No matter what tomorrow brought, this moment would change Romi fundamentally and not just because she was taking her first lover.
The kiss didn’t just hint, but it vowed the kind of passion a person could go her entire life without experiencing.
He lifted his lips from hers, but kept his body close, his gaze intent and determined in the way she remembered. “Tell me.”
She remembered that demand, too, but somehow she knew that right now it meant more than playing a sensual game.
Max had made his promises. Now he would have hers.
“Yours.”
“Only mine.”
“Only yours.”
He didn’t ask for more, didn’t demand she guarantee to be a good or even present mother. It was all covered in that single declaration, minimal words laden with complicated and far-reaching commitments. And she could not make herself regret that truth.
Whatever tomorrow might bring.
They undressed one another like old lovers, though they’d never been fully naked together before. When they’d dated, their times of intimacy had been explosive and unplanned.
Which wasn’t to say they hadn’t been intense, amazing and ultimately absolutely unforgettable.
But they’d never come to his penthouse to make love. She’d known where he lived, had even been in his building to wait for him, but never in his home, and definitely not his bedroom.
It felt so natural, though, to push his shirt off his shoulders, to tug his dangling belt from the loops on his trousers, that she did it all without any real thought.
And when he drew her tunic mini off, she didn’t try to cover her small breasts, which were encased in a white silk bra designed to lift them into prominence. Not because she’d worn it for the very purpose of enticing him, either, but because she felt no need to hide. No desire for false barriers between them.
Max’s eyes flared with heat as he traced the path of the lace covering the upper swells with one masculine finger. “Very pretty. I don’t remember your lingerie being this sexy.”
“I knew what I wanted.” She didn’t even blush when she said it.
She’d had plans for this afternoon and that shouldn’t come as a shock to the unparalleled tsar of plan making.
The air around them vibrated with sensual hunger as her words seemed to impact him in a wholly favorable way.
“I like it.” He leaned down and placed a kiss on the tip of her nipple, the heat from his breath drawing it into a tight bead. “Very much.”
“Thank you.”
“But it too must come off.” Suiting action to words, he unclasped her bra and drew the silk away from her body.
She shivered in reaction to the feel of air on her nipples and his fingertips on her skin.
“You are so responsive,” he said with masculine satisfaction.
“To you.”
“As it should be.” He cupped her breasts, his big hands holding her gently but with unmistakable possession. “Here? Have others touched you like this?”
“What?” Why was he asking her that?
“You said I am not like other men. I asked you how you knew,” he reminded her, like he could read her confusion on her face.
Probably, he could.
“I…not like this. Under my shirt. Not my bra.” The words shivered out of her as he squeezed carefully, kneading her breasts and pulling more pleasure from her.
“I am different from other men, but milaya, I think your response to me is unique as well, yes?”
“Oh, yes,” she breathed softly.
“I will erase the touch of any other man, no matter how intimate.”
How did she tell him he didn’t need to erase what had never been there? She wasn’t a total novice, or at least had always told herself the kissing and clothed petting meant she wasn’t one. But Romi had been fooling herself.
This was sexual foreplay that would change her.
The other touches had left no lasting impact.
She tried to tell him that, but the words came out disjointed as Max removed her leggings and panties in one deft movement before tossing them aside.
“Shh…I understand. You are mine. I am yours. It is good.” He pressed his finger to her lips, but then followed it almost immediately with his lips.