Prince Voronov's Virgin. Lynn Raye Harris

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СКАЧАТЬ shocked at the languidness stealing across her senses. He wasn’t Chad, wasn’t the man she’d fantasized about for the past two years—but she wanted to lose herself in his embrace, wanted to see what kind of magic he could make if they were alone together and naked.

      Except she hadn’t the first clue how to make magic with a man, truth be told. In the last eight years, she’d had exactly one sexual experience—and that hadn’t been anything to write home about. Becoming a single parent to a sister when you were only eighteen, and then working your way through school and trying to support a household, didn’t leave much time for dating or building relationships.

      But not one of the handful of kisses she’d ever experienced had been anything like this. This kiss was incredible. And it did things to her insides. She felt liquid and hot. Like the fireworks bursting in her body had turned into a single living flame.

      Paige felt heat and passion so strongly that it shocked her. How could she be so responsive at a time like this?

      The man growled low in his throat, squeezed her tighter to him as the kiss slid over the edge.

      Paige wasn’t herself. It was the only explanation. She was no longer a dull secretary working for a man she could never have, no longer the responsible older sister who took care of everything. She was hot, sensual, and completely in charge of her destiny. She was living a life of international intrigue and danger, an exciting life filled with passion and amazing men who spoke Russian-accented English and kissed the living daylights out of her.

      Voices sounded close by, bringing her back to reality. And then a wolf-whistle. Paige’s heart dived into her stomach.

      “Don’t be frightened,” the stranger whispered against the column of her throat as he maneuvered her face away from the side the men were on. “They will go soon.”

      She trembled in answer, though it wasn’t from fear as his mouth glided near her ear again.

      “What is your name?”

      It startled her, that question. He was pressed against her so intimately, his lips moving across her skin as if they’d been born to do so, the ridge of an impressive erection riding the crease in her thighs, and he didn’t even know her name. If the situation weren’t so insane, she’d have laughed.

      He flexed his hips and sensation bolted through her. If he kept doing that, oh…

      “Your name,” he said against her cheekbone.

      “Paige,” she said in the instant before his mouth claimed hers again.

      The whistles grew louder, and then a voice said something sharp and they stopped. The voice said something again, louder and sharper. She felt the stranger’s muscles tighten.

      The other man spoke in Russian, a question by the way he left the statement hanging at the end. The truth hit her like a blast of icy water. He was questioning them. Paige’s breath drew in sharply.

      “Moan,” the stranger said against her lips.

      The word was so foreign to her, so heavy with meaning. His accent scraped over the word, made it seem both harder and sexier than anything she’d ever heard in her life.

      He squeezed her thighs hard, and she realized they were in danger, that he knew it, too. Somehow, the fact he was aware of the danger made it seem bigger, more real. They were completely outnumbered. If these men realized who she was, if they decided to finish what they’d started, the stranger would be no help against so many.

      Paige pulled her mouth from his, buried her face against his neck and let out the best moan she could. The sound was weak, unconvincing.

      “Louder,” he said in her ear, his hips flexing once more against her center.

      Sensation caught, held, spun her in its grip as he ground against her. The moan that left her lips this time was very real. His mouth sought hers again. His kiss was warm, hard and demanding. Paige threaded her fingers in the hair at his nape, toyed with the soft edge of the fur cap he wore.

      With the pressure of his body centered on her most sensitive spot, he drove her toward something she’d never actually experienced with a man. They were clothed, and yet she was about to splinter apart.

      She’d been so deprived and now—oh now the floodgates had been opened. They weren’t even naked, weren’t really intimate in any way, and she felt so much.

      She moaned again, gasping as his hand cupped her breast through her shirt. His thumb slid over her nipple; he made a noise when he realized it was a hard little point. The sound of his voice rocked her, kicked up her senses.

      Unbelievably she was almost there, almost to that peak of sensation. She felt wicked, hot and utterly desperate.

      It was wrong, wrong, and yet—

      The stranger tore his mouth from hers and put distance between them. He still supported her, but they were no longer so tightly pressed together. He looked completely unaffected by what had just happened while she was hot and cold and frustrated all at once.

      And then she remembered. Her gaze shot over his shoulder as confusion gave way to panic. He’d decided to give her up, decided she wasn’t worth helping—

      “They are gone,” he said. He eased her legs down his hips until she was standing. Released from his grip, she felt so cold all of a sudden. She wrapped her arms around her body. Her teeth started to chatter softly, but she couldn’t seem to stop.

      “Thank you,” she said, strangely disappointed that she hadn’t tumbled over that peak after all. Her body still hummed with the aftereffects of too much adrenaline, too much thwarted pleasure.

      “Ne ze chto. Now we must go.”

      Paige blinked up at him, looking at him fully for the first time—and nearly sank to the cold ground in shock. He was a stunning man. Hollywood handsome in a way that screamed bad boy, playboy. Except he wasn’t a boy at all. It struck her how incongruous those terms were to describe a man like him.

      She’d been so focused before, so scared, that she’d barely registered any details about him.

      Now, she took them in. Every last incredible line. Beneath his cap, he had dark thick hair that was probably brown but looked black in the lights, and the kind of nose and cheekbones that artists had been sculpting out of marble for hundreds of years. His lips were full, sensual, his jaw strong. He watched her with glacial eyes that missed nothing. And he’d just told her they needed to leave. Together. Paige backed up a step, suddenly confused and wary. She’d made too many mistakes already. She’d come this far from her hotel without a plan, and nearly been assaulted. Going anywhere with this man was out of the question, no matter how much she might owe him for helping her.

      “I appreciate your help, and I’d be happy to pay you, but if you think I’m going somewhere with you to finish—”

      His expression grew absolutely stony. “You think too highly of yourself, Paige. And you will come with me now if you wish to avoid a repeat scenario. Those men could return to the square in five minutes, when they’ve realized you didn’t go into the subway or any of the open clubs.”

      “I’ll return to my hotel. It’s just down the street—” “It’s not safe.”

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