Neither of them could move for long minutes. Eventually they pulled apart, righting their clothes, giving each other kisses every other second as if they were unable to stay apart. When they finished, she went into his arms and he held her.
He felt so good, so right. It was almost perfect. Almost. If only a few things were different he could be her mate, could be hers forever. The thought made her heart pound even as it made her sad.
His arms wrapped around her as he kissed her again. A long, sweet kiss that made her heart melt and her knees tremble. When he pulled away, he looked at her with the same odd look in his eyes that she’d seen before. She just wished she knew what it meant.
“You’re my woman now, Christine. No matter what you say that won’t change.” Words failed her. All she could do was swallow hard over the lump in her throat and follow him back towards the garden, hand-in-hand.
Chapter 18
Christine finished washing the soil out of her hair and shut off the shower. She sprinted across the cold tile floor and into the bedroom.
“What to wear, what to wear.” She threw open her closet, searching through her abundance of shirts and shorts for the right items. At the back of the closet, she spotted a dark blue-jean skirt. “Aha!” she said and snatched it. Picking out a white, v-cut satin shirt to go with the skirt, she threw that on the bed then began scooping up the clothes on her floor.
Dmetri said he was coming over tonight. Nerves still fluttered through her at the thought.
Something must be wrong with her. How could he make her so anxious when she’d just been with him?
But this just felt different. She wasn’t going to the guest cabin, and they weren’t going out. He was coming to her home. He’d see her things, including the mess of clothes on her bedroom floor.
What would he think if he knew she was part-slob? It still baffled her that he was so interested in her, but she didn’t doubt his sincerity. She was smart enough to know when a man was into her, and Dmetri was waist-deep. Ah, her ego soared in her chest until she grinned foolishly while tossing the clothes littering her floor into the closet.
“Good as new.”
She went around the house inspecting it for anything out of place, and then grimaced when most of it was. The pillows on the couch were either sideways or on the floor, dishes were in the sink, and her kitchen table looked as if every bill she’d ever owned was on it.
“Time to get to work.”
She rarely let anyone sway her own habits on anything, well, okay, maybe her mother, but there was no way she was going to let Dmetri see her place like this. She made quick work of the mess and finished the chores in under an hour. That left her just thirty minutes until he’d arrive.
Christine parted the curtain at the front window and peered outside. The night sky settled in blanketing the horizon in dark shadows. Against her better judgment, she looked down the street to her mother’s house. The lights were on and she knew right about now her mother would be settling in her for evening tea and a book. Dostoyevsky, Aristotle, or something equally intelligent but boring. Christine grunted. She’d spent most of her childhood listening to her mother critique famous dead authors on how their books could be better; and of course, she wanted her to read them, too. Christine preferred her books action-packed and mysterious, not hundreds of years old. But they were great sleep aids.
She shoved the curtain closed and whirled away from the window. That was enough of that. She changed into the outfit she’d picked out, but debated over wearing a bra. Then she remembered how much he’d liked it in the woods earlier when she wasn’t wearing one.
“Whoops!” she said and chucked the bra to the corner of the room. Next, she eyeballed her black panties. She’d picked them because she thought he’d like them. After all, they reminded her of him. Slick, black, and expensive...okay, expensive looking. A grin curled over her mouth as she chucked them to the corner of the room.
She pulled the skirt on and simply stood there feeling the denim against her bare butt. It felt strange, naughty...but good. She wouldn’t prefer it for every-day wear but for a night with Dmetri, oh yeah. She tugged her shirt over her free breasts and checked her reflection in the bathroom mirror. When all angles looked good, she went into the living room and stopped to wait.
The clock on the wall beckoned her until she was staring at it while gnawing on her lip like a piece of meat. She wrung her hands together, and when the knock finally came, she jumped.
“Get yourself under control, Christine; this is a date not an interview.” She took a deep breath and opened the door.
Dmetri Demidov stood still, patient, but his eyes swam dark and wild like a storm.
Pressing a hand over her pounding heart, she gulped and made a lame ‘come in’ motion.
But as she moved aside to let him in, he gave only a brief shake of his head then slowly came towards her. She was caught in his stare, her pulse pounding, waiting. He cupped the back of her head and brought his lips down to hers. Her heart stuttered, body froze. The kiss was hungry, unrestrained. His tongue slid between her lips and tasted hers, dueled with sensual thrusts. The kiss went on and on. It grew more passionate until their lips were wet and sliding against each other’s, heads turning to reach every possible angle.
When he finally pulled back they were both panting, and at some point she’d entwined her arms around his neck. She pulled them away slowly, loving the way his long hair sifted through her fingers like silk.
He gave her a smile that curled her toes. “I come bearing gifts.” He lifted his hands and she noticed he had a bottle of wine and small box in the other. Her heart did a cartwheel in her chest.
“Oh...that’s nice.”
This time he laughed. It was only the second time she’d heard it and still it made her shiver. He handed the wine to her and closed the door behind him.
“Come on in.” Feeling awkward, nervous, and borderline crazy, she took a seat on the couch and cradled the bottle between her thighs. The bottle was dark green, the wine inside dark red. The label was in a language she didn’t recognize. When he didn’t immediately start surveying her home as she’d expected she barely hid her surprise. And to think she did all that cleaning.
“What is this?” she asked.
“It’s from a Grecian vineyard, one of my favorites. I think you’ll like it.”
“Oh is it sweet? I love sweet wines.”
His lip curled into a smile. “Sweet, rich, the flavors settle on the tongue long after you’ve sipped it. It reminds me of you.”
This time she laughed. “Really, how so? I don’t think I’m particularly sweet and I’m sure as hell not rich.” Hell, what would he think if she told him he was sitting on a hundred-dollar couch she bought at a thrift store?
“Well I disagree with that but really it’s because you linger with me. Just as this wine does.”
A blush spread over her cheeks making her feel unnaturally warm. She couldn’t think of anything to say so she just nodded. Her eyes trailed back to the small box in his hand. It looked like the size of a box of earrings or a ring and had white glossy paper over it.
Before she could stop herself, she blurted out, “What’s that?” He smiled and handed the box to her. “A gift.”
She took it and held the slight weight in her hands. She didn’t want to open it. That would ruin the perfectness of the gift, but when he looked at her expectantly, she started dutifully unwrapping the paper. Slowly.