One Kiss In… Moscow. Кейт Хьюит

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      ‘Your passport. Your flight.’ His lips curved in a grim smile. ‘You can be out of this country this time tomorrow night, milaya moya.’

      She recognised the Russian. My sweet. And Sergei had never sounded more cynical than when he said the endearment. ‘Why did you push me away?’ she asked quietly.

      Sergei’s nostrils flared, lips thinned. He looked so angry, yet minutes ago he’d been kissing her. Touching her. His hands—

      ‘Don’t, Hannah.’

      ‘Don’t what?’

      ‘Don’t be so bloody naive!’ He took a step towards her, his eyes blazing. ‘You want to know why I pushed you away? Because I don’t do virgins, milaya moya, especially not ones who barely know how to kiss.’

      Ouch. Hannah blinked, swallowed again, and lifted a chin. ‘I don’t believe—’

      Sergei let out a sharp bark of laughter. ‘Believe it.’

      ‘You’re just saying that,’ she insisted, because Sergei was too angry to have pushed her away out of boredom or even disgust.

      His mouth twisted in a sneer. ‘There’s optimistic and then there’s deluded. You’re leaning towards the latter.’

      Hannah folded her arms. Sergei’s sudden rejection didn’t make sense. She knew she was inexperienced, he’d known that, but she wasn’t so naive that she hadn’t felt the evidence of his desire. She’d felt it in his kiss too, in the way he’d reached for her. She’d felt the answer in herself. ‘I’m not deluded.’

      He arched an eyebrow, so coldly in control. ‘Really?’

      ‘Really.’ Although she was starting to feel that maybe she was. She was so out of her element, beyond her experience, yet she still felt instinctively that Sergei wasn’t telling the truth. He hadn’t pushed her away because he’d stopped wanting her, so why?

       Because he didn’t want to hurt her.

      The thought popped into her mind like a translucent bubble, shining and perfect. Fragile too. For if that wasn’t a deluded thought …

      Sergei was surely the coldest, most cynical man she’d ever met.

       Cynical about himself.

      ‘I don’t believe you,’ she said slowly.

      He let out a harsh laugh. ‘You really are some kind of Pollyanna, always wanting to believe the best of everyone. Well, don’t believe it about me—’

      ‘You’ve been kind—’ Hannah insisted, because she knew, deep down, it was true.

      ‘There is no such thing as kind,’ Sergei cut across her. His eyes blazed into hers, icy and hot at the same time, and full of fury. ‘I said everyone has a motive, remember? And usually not a very nice one.’ He took a step towards her, the action menacing. Threatening. Hannah held her ground. ‘You know what my motive has been, milaya moya?’

      ‘Don’t call me that—’

      ‘But you are very sweet.’ He touched her cheek, lightly, and Hannah flinched. There was something ugly about his actions, his words, and she knew he was ruining it all on purpose, even if she didn’t understand why. ‘My motive,’ he continued softly, still stroking her cheek, ‘has been to get you into my bed. Why do you think I intervened with those raggedy little pickpockets? You’re very beautiful, in an artless sort of way.’

      Hannah swallowed. ‘Your seduction technique needs a little work, then,’ she told him. ‘When we first met you were positively unpleasant.’

      His fingers stilled for a second, no more. Then he smiled. Hannah didn’t like this smile, this cruel curving of those mobile lips that was meant to convey just how coldly calculating he truly was.

      ‘Ah, but it did work, didn’t it? Taken as a whole. For I could have had you right here, against the door.’ His smile widened and his eyes glittered. ‘So I must have been doing something right.’

      Hannah lifted her chin, ignored the lightning streak of pain his words caused to blaze through her. ‘Then why did you stop?’

      ‘Isn’t it obvious?’ He dropped his hand and stepped away. ‘I stopped wanting you.’

      Boldly, she let her gaze drop down to where the evidence of just how much he’d wanted her had pressed against her. ‘Did you?’ she challenged. ‘I may be a virgin, Sergei, but I’m not that innocent.’

      Sergei’s gaze flared and narrowed. ‘Admittedly, milaya moya, I could have taken my pleasure right here, but I am a man of more sophisticated tastes than I’m sure you’ve ever experienced. And frankly the effort wasn’t worth the reward. Virgins are so tedious, and tend to get all emotional afterwards. I really didn’t want to have to deal with your tears.’

      Each word was a hammer blow, or perhaps a dagger wound, for the pain was sharp and cutting. Maybe she was deluded after all, Hannah thought numbly.

      She looked up, saw Sergei watching her closely. Saw how tense he was, his body rigid, thrumming with suppressed emotion. And suddenly she knew she wasn’t deluded after all. If he’d been bored by her, he’d have turned away already. Dismissed her with a drawl. He wouldn’t be here, as cagey as a crouched tiger, watching, waiting.

      She took a step forward, and now she was the one to touch his cheek. Gently, her caress a balm. ‘No, Sergei,’ she said softly. ‘I don’t believe that. You’re trying to push me away and I’m not sure why. Maybe it’s because you’re afraid of hurting me, or maybe you’re just afraid. And maybe tonight was just meant to be that—a night. I’m not quite so deluded that I think there’s something more between us so quickly, but—’ She swallowed, her hand resting on his cheek, felt the muscle bunch in his jaw. ‘But I also know you’re not telling me the truth.’ She spoke out of deep instinct, and felt her own words resonate through her. She was not imagining this—

      ‘Sergei.’

      Hannah stilled as the door to the private dining room was thrown open. She turned and saw a woman stumble in. She was dressed in a stretchy black Lycra tube top and a red leather skirt that rode high on her thighs. Stiletto-heeled knee-high boots in black patent leather completed the outrageous outfit. Her hair fell nearly to her waist, tangled and peroxideblonde, her face beautiful yet ravaged and overly made-up. She exuded cheap and blatant sexuality, and from the way she smiled at Sergei it was clear they knew each other very well.

      ‘Sergei …’ She let out a drunken giggle before speaking in Russian too slurred for Hannah even to attempt to understand.

      ‘No,’ Sergei said flatly, stepping away from Hannah, speaking English no doubt for her unhappy benefit. ‘You weren’t interrupting something. In fact, Varya,’ he continued, his voice turning so very smooth, ‘I’ve been expecting you.’

      Hannah watched in shock as Sergei approached the woman—Varya—and snaked an arm around her waist, both steadying her and drawing her to him. She went unresistingly, naturally, curving into his solid strength as she leaned her head against his shoulder and giggled again. СКАЧАТЬ