One Kiss In… Moscow. Кейт Хьюит

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СКАЧАТЬ can sleep here,’ he said, keeping his voice even. ‘I’ll drive you in the morning.’

      Hannah stopped buttoning her coat and gave him a long, level look. When he’d first met her, he’d seen so many emotions in those open, guileless eyes. Now he couldn’t tell a thing. ‘I don’t think that’s a good idea.’

      He was getting tired of her telling him what to do. He took a step towards her. ‘Well, I think it’s a fine idea. And I have no desire to get dressed and drive you home after midnight.’

      ‘Fine,’ Hannah said evenly. ‘I’ll call a cab.’

      Sergei nearly swore. ‘No.’

      Now he saw an emotion in her eyes: exasperation. ‘What is with you, Sergei? We both know what this was. We wanted to finish what was started a year ago, and so we did. Neither of us expected anything more than that.’

      Sergei felt a muscle bunch in his jaw. He was practically grinding his teeth. ‘I’m not finished.’ She stared at him, and he saw her eyes darken with what he knew was sorrow or fear or maybe even anger. Something he didn’t want to see there. ‘And I don’t think you’re finished either, milaya moya.’

      ‘I told you before, don’t call me that.’

      ‘It means my sweet—’

      ‘I know what it means. And I know you only say it when you’re trying to show how in control and tough you are, how much I must want you.’ She glared at him, her eyes so dark they looked almost black, fury pulsating in every taut line of her slender body. ‘I’m finished, okay? It was very nice, but I’ve had enough. I want to go home.’

      Very nice? Sergei would have been offended if he believed her. And he would have believed her if her voice hadn’t wobbled and her body hadn’t shook as if she were in the grip of a fever, her eyes huge and dark in her pale face. She was lying. Why?

      He stepped aside even though it cost him.

      ‘All right. Go.’

      Hannah stared at him in disbelief. Had she actually expected him to insist she stay? Imprison her here? And the fact that he wasn’t sent a sliver of disappointment needling her heart. A ridiculous reaction, and just another reason to get out of here as fast as she could.

      ‘Fine.’ Maybe he had finished with her after all. She’d become tedious again. She smothered the stab of hurt that thought caused and marched towards the door.

      Just as she reached for the handle Sergei moved. He slid into the small space between her and the door, so close she could feel his body against hers, could remember—

      ‘Don’t—’

      ‘Please stay, Hannah.’ Gone was the gruff and imperious assassin of a man who called her my sweet, and with just three little words, uttered in such a low, raw voice, Hannah’s determined defiance leaked right out of her.

      ‘Don’t,’ she said again, softly, because she didn’t have any more strength. It had taken just about all of it to roll from the bed as if she hadn’t a care in the world, to dress and face him down as if she really wanted to go. As if it really had been simple. Just sex.

      Sergei touched her cheek with one thumb, and Hannah closed her eyes. Why did he have to be kind now? Gentle when she wanted him to be gruff? Was this just another weapon, a way to control her? For she had no illusions about Sergei now; she couldn’t afford to have them, even when he was kind. Even if he’d held her in his arms as if she were a treasure. He wasn’t finished, so he’d make sure she wasn’t either.

      Yet here he was touching her cheek, his caress so very soft, his voice a thrum in his chest, a whisper that bridged the chasm that she had opened up between them.

      ‘I don’t want you to go.’

      Hannah opened her eyes. Forced out the one question she knew she needed to ask. ‘When, then?’

      Sergei was silent for a long moment. His thumb stroked her cheek, softly, so softly. ‘I don’t know when,’ he finally said, a confession.

      And Hannah knew what that meant. There would be a when. At some point what burned between them now would flicker out to embers or even ashes. And then he would tell her to go.

      Yet now with his body so close, his heart against hers, she felt that sweet molten longing trickle through her and if he kissed her she knew she’d say yes. She’d say yes, please.

      Still, a part of her had to fight. Fight him, and fight the fear and need in herself. She shook her head, silently, her eyes closed. Not much of a protest, but it was all she could manage.

      ‘Hannah, please.’

      His entreaty moved her, made her realise he wanted this as much as she did … whatever this was. An affair? A fling? She opened her eyes. Stared him down. ‘Just what are you suggesting?’

      ‘Come with me.’

      ‘Where?’

      ‘I have to go to Paris for a business event—come with me.’

      Paris. Hannah felt a thrill of excitement and longing, even as she remained wary. She still didn’t know just what Sergei was suggesting. Somehow she didn’t picture them visiting the Eiffel Tower and the Louvre together, a happy couple on holiday. Yet still she wanted to go, and the knowledge surely damned her. ‘And what am I meant to do there?’

      His mouth quirked up and his expression turned lazy; he knew he had her. He knew he’d won. ‘I’m sure we can think of a few things to do.’

      So that was how it was going to be. Fighting the sudden, insane urge to cry, Hannah smiled back. She would go; had she really even had a choice? It didn’t feel like it, not where Sergei was concerned. ‘I’m sure we could.’

      His smile widened, a smile of triumph, and he swept her into his arms, kissing her thoroughly. Yet even as his lips moved on hers she felt as if he were retreating from her, closing himself off. It was bizarre to be so physically close to someone and yet feel so utterly emotionally distant, as if all they’d shared before—the intensity, the intimacy—hadn’t ever happened. Or at least it hadn’t been real.

      ‘It will be good,’ Sergei told her, and Hannah buried her face in his neck, wishing she could ignore the tidal wave of longing that crashed over her as soon as she was in his arms again. ‘We’ll have fun,’ he promised. Her face still hidden from him, Hannah didn’t answer. Of course this was about fun. Easy, simple fun.

      Nothing else. For either of them.

       CHAPTER EIGHT

      SERGEI put things in motion the very next day. They drove to New York, and from there took a private jet to Paris. As Hannah stepped aboard, eyeing the leather sofas and low tables, she gazed at Sergei in incredulity.

      ‘This is yours?’

      He shrugged his assent and a steward took their coats before retreating СКАЧАТЬ