Postcards From New York. Stefanie London

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СКАЧАТЬ and tossed it onto the chair he’d planned to sleep in, determined to prove to himself he was able to exercise firm control where this woman was concerned. Emma didn’t move. ‘Is there a problem?’

      ‘Can you unzip me?’

      She blushed and looked more beautiful and innocent than she’d ever done, but there was a hint of humour in her voice. Did she know just how much she was torturing him?

      ‘I had help this afternoon, but I don’t have a stylist to hand at present. Thanks for arranging all that; it was very thoughtful.’

      He walked towards her, wondering if he trusted himself to be so close to her, undoing the dress he’d wanted to remove from her sexy body all night. She was testing him, pushing him to the limits of his endurance, whether she knew it or not.

      ‘I wanted you to look the part,’ he said, then added more gently as her perfume weaved around him, drawing him ever closer like a ship lured to the rocks by a raging storm, ‘And you looked beautiful—so very beautiful.’

      ‘I felt beautiful,’ she whispered, as if letting him hear her thoughts. ‘It was a fairy-tale night.’

      ‘My mother believes in that fairy tale, at least,’ he said firmly, desperate to remind himself why he was even here like this with her. ‘You played your part well.’

      She looked up at him as he stood in front of her, boldly locking her gaze with his in a fleeting gesture of defiance before lowering her lashes and looking away. She turned her back to him and lifted up her hair, which hung in a glossy veil down her back, exposing the silky, smooth skin he remembered from their night together.

      His hand lingered on the zip. He couldn’t let go, couldn’t step away from the temptation she was creating. He could see her spine and curled his fingers tight against the need to trail them up it and then all the way down. He wanted to kiss her back, to take every last piece of clothing from her sexy body and kiss her everywhere, before claiming her as his once more.

      He bit down on a powerful rush of desire which surged through him. Not only had she made it clear she didn’t want him, he didn’t want the complications of sex becoming something more. He had to ignore the lust which was rapidly engulfing him, if only to prove to himself he didn’t want her, didn’t feel anything for her.

      He reached out and gently pulled the zip downwards, inwardly groaning as her back became visible. The heat of passion was rushing straight to his groin. If this was any other woman, or any other moment in time, he would be kissing that wonderfully bare back and sliding the dress from her, exposing her near nakedness to his hungry gaze. But this wasn’t any other woman. This was the woman who was to become his wife and everything was so very complicated.

      ‘Thank you.’ She stepped away from him and he clenched his fingers tightly to prevent himself from doing anything else.

      Passion pounded in his body, begging for release as she turned to face him. Her hardened nipples were clearly visible through the fine material and he wondered how he’d never noticed until now she was braless. The thought shifted the demanding desire inside him up several notches, ever closer to breaking point.

      The air hummed with heavy desire as she picked up the nightdress his mother had magically found from somewhere and walked into the adjoining bathroom and closed the door. For a moment, relief washed over him until he realised that when she returned she’d be wearing even less. The cream nightdress would offer even less protection from him.

      With an angry growl he took off his jacket and slung it over the back of the chair. What the hell was wrong with him? He’d never been a slave to desire. He was always in control. Except with this woman.

      As the bathroom door opened he crossed the room, not daring to look at her, not wanting to see her wearing the silky nightdress which would reveal far more of her body than he could tolerate. He kept his back to her as he heard the bedcovers being moved and then headed for the bathroom. Once inside, he shut the door firmly and turned on the shower, selecting the coldest setting.

      When he returned to the bedroom, invigorated from the icy cold jets of water, Emma was lying in the bed, as far to one edge of it as was possible, and either asleep or pretending to be. Wearing only his underwear, he slid beneath the cool covers, turned off the light and lay on his back, looking up at the ceiling through the darkness. Anger boiled up in him, thankfully dimming the throb of desire, allowing his usual stern control to return.

      Emma sighed softly next to him and turned over, moving closer to him. He lay rigid in the bed as her breathing settled into the soft rhythm of sleep again. He could feel the warmth of her body, and in his mind all he could see was her naked in his bed in Vladimir. Nothing had changed. He couldn’t relax. Damn it, he’d never sleep.

      He closed his eyes, willing his body to relax, and, just when he thought he might achieve that elusive state, Emma stirred and moved again. Closer to him. Far too close. She put her arm across his chest and pulled herself closer, pressing her body against the side of his, and instantly his body was ready for her. He clenched his jaw tightly, fighting the throb of desire and the urge to turn to her, to wrap her in his arms and kiss her awake before making her his once more.

      A feral curse slipped from his lips as she sighed once more, pressing herself tighter against him so that he could feel the swell of her breast against his arm. He couldn’t move. He didn’t trust himself to. He had to prove he was stronger than the desire he had for her, something he’d never had a problem with before.

      How could he want her so much? What had she done to him? Questions raced through his mind and he focused on them instead of the heady warmth of Emma’s sleeping body next to his.

      Never in his life had he spent a night with a woman without having sex. How had it come to this? He tried again to sleep, to ignore the heat of her body, and it was more than torture as he lay rigid next to the one woman who threatened everything, from his sanity to his family. How the hell could he want her so badly?

       CHAPTER EIGHT

      EMMA BLUSHED AGAIN as memories from the few hours they’d spent in bed together came rushing back to her. She still couldn’t believe that she’d been wrapped around Nikolai when she’d woken. She’d opened her eyes as spring sunshine had streamed into the unfamiliar room, wondering at first where she was. Then she’d realised they were entwined, as if they were lovers. Slowly she’d moved away from Nikolai as he slept, taking the chance to steal a glance at his handsome features before slipping away to put on a dress left for her last night.

      Had anything happened? Had she embarrassed herself by saying or doing something stupid in a sleepy state? She hoped she hadn’t let her growing feelings for him show—especially as he’d been adamant that nothing would happen between them. So many questions had raced around her mind as they’d left the beautiful house and started the drive back to his apartment in New York. A tense silence had enveloped them in the car and she hadn’t been about to break it, especially not by asking about last night.

      Now they were back in his apartment and she was lying in her bed alone, replaying the events of the party. The kiss for their engagement photo had been so powerful, so very evocative, she’d thought it was real, but then he’d pulled away from her, the hardness of his eyes warning her against such thoughts. But it was when he’d helped her out of her dress that things really had changed. She’d seen raw desire in his eyes as he’d looked at her, and when he’d touched her she’d clamped her mouth tightly closed, worried she might say something and СКАЧАТЬ