How could he possibly think she’d become involved with another man? How could she after having experienced this? Him.
He directed her by taking her hands from his face and sending them up, showing her he wanted them around his neck. She got them there and made a sound of surprise when he wrapped an arm around her waist and lifted her clear off her feet. With their bodies pressed together, and with her now up high enough, she went even further by cradling his head as she hungrily ate at his mouth. She took more pride in the rough sound of his approval than was wise.
“My angel,” he murmured against her. “You’re just as I remember. So fucking sweet.” He licked into her mouth, and she closed her lips on his tongue. She sucked gently, and he made a dark sound. His palm pressed just above her tailbone until she couldn’t help but feel the extent of his arousal. His shaft was long and hard against her belly, and she found herself wanting it between her legs, inside her, deep and pounding steadily, stretching her with its thickness. He tunneled his fingers into the hair at her nape, and grabbing a handful, tipped her head to the side so he could deepen the kiss.
Her hands were sliding over his broad shoulders to reach his back so she could pull him tighter. The straps of his gun harness barely registered. The only thing she was aware of was she couldn’t get close enough. Couldn’t feel him enough. That made her desperate for more, and she didn’t care. Wasn’t self-conscious about it. Because this was Alekzander. Her lifeline. This was why she hadn’t been living. Because she’d been deprived of this.
“You like?” he asked in Russian as he nipped at her lips, and then her jaw and down the column of her throat. He sealed his mouth to her pulse point and drew hard on her skin, making her gasp.
“I like,” she replied in the same. Just as they used to do.
“What would be better?”
“If we were naked,” she answered automatically, effortlessly falling into the past.
“Fuck, yes,” he whispered fiercely, and then his tongue was in her mouth again, his fingers tickling as they climbed her ribs. He growled. “I need to touch you before I go fucking crazy.”
“Yes,” she breathed, giving permission without thought. Her body was his. Always.
Had he not been holding her, she’d have ended up on the floor when his hand passed over her shoulder, traced down her spine, came around her ribs and finally covered her aching breast. He squeezed it firmly, making her wish she was bared to him. She wanted to be in his mouth. She wanted him sucking on her—
Sacha’s eyes sprung wide, and she jerked back so hard she startled him into losing his grip. She pulled away from him the second her feet touched the floor, and stumbled on her heels, throwing her arms out to gain her balance.
A warm, wetness spread as they stared at each other, their chests rising and falling swiftly.
“Sacha…” He reached for her, but she put up a hand to hold him off. He dropped his arm, his expression puzzled.
The warmth continued to seep out, the ache in breasts subsiding as her milk began to flow.
Lekzi.
Sacha’s body had taken the sexual stimulation and turned it into a basic time-to-feed-the-baby. Alekzander’s baby. That he knew nothing about.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have gone so fast.”
She brought her hands to her cheeks and tried to deny it. The effervescent joy bubbling inside her was smothered as the true horror of her situation was exposed. With this one conversation, this one wonderful cleansing interaction between them, she was no longer the injured party; she was the villain. The only villain. Alekzander was innocent of all but trying to protect her because he loved her. But she, with full knowledge and so much pain-fueled malice, had kept his child a secret from him.
“Oh, Alekzander,” she whispered as she inconspicuously pressed her arms against her breasts to try to make them behave. “What have I done?”
“Nothing. It was only a kiss.” His jaw was tight as he glanced back toward the door, but he continued to speak through it. “Don’t look like that. I shouldn’t have pushed for it.”
“Please, stop.” He loved her. He’d always loved her. So much so that she was quite sure he was apologizing because he thought she was upset about being unfaithful to a gay man she was only pretending to see romantically. “Oh, my God. This is—Oh, my God,” she repeated as she barely refrained from falling to her knees and screaming about the unfairness of it all. “I must tell you something.”
She shoved aside her fear about how severely he would punish her. And not only him but his uncle.
She closed the distance between them and lifted one of his big hands. She gorged herself on the desire she could still see swimming in his eyes behind the curiosity and anger. She brought his palm up to rub on her cheek, closing her eyes and savoring the connection she was starved for.