Images of Sergei leaning over me in bed, my thighs wrapped around his waist as he thrust into my slick, womanly heat tormented me. The tempting sight of him melted the icy wall I had erected between us. Suddenly, I started to question why he was so wrong for me.
As if he felt my intense gaze, Sergei glanced at me. "Where is your water shutoff valve?"
"My what?" His mundane question threw me.
"The water shutoff," he repeated. "Have you been having problems turning your water on and off here at the shower faucet?"
"Oh. Well…yeah." I looked to the shower where a blast of hot water spewed from the broken pipe there. It seemed even stronger than earlier. No doubt that had been the cause of Sergei's cursing. "I bought a replacement faucet and the tools to fix it, but I wasn't sure how to start."
"You need to shut off the water and bleed the line first. There's no local shutoff here so we'll have to do it outside."
"Wait. Is that the funny little handle thing in that box outside?"
Sergei's mouth slanted to one side. "Yes, sweetheart, it's the funny little handle thing."
There was only warm amusement in his voice and no condescension to be found. I refused to allow myself to dwell on the way my belly quivered at the sound of him calling me sweetheart. Flicking my fingers, I turned away from him. "That shutoff is outside in between the rose bushes."
"Of course it is," he grumbled. "Wait. Here. I brought this for you."
Spinning to face him, I watched him retrieve my cell phone from the pocket of his tuxedo jacket. "How in the world—?"
"Vivian," he said. "She borrowed it from your purse."
"Borrowed, huh?" I rolled my eyes at her interfering. "I love that girl but she knows how to push my buttons."
Sergei chuckled. "Try guarding her. She's impossible to keep out of trouble."
"Sounds stressful." I shuddered to think what Nikolai would do if Vivian was ever hurt under Sergei's watch.
"You have no idea." He held out my phone. "I suppose we should thank her. If I hadn't been at your door when you fell—"
"Hey, wait a second." I held up my hand as another thought struck me. "How the hell did you get inside my house?"
"About that…" Sergei rubbed the back of his neck and made an apologetic face. "I know a guy who builds custom homes. He uses a lot of antique reproductions. I'll call him first thing in the morning to get you a new door."
"A new door?" Mouth agape, I left the bathroom, crossed my bedroom and strode out to the landing. Leaning against the handrail, I gazed down into the entryway of my home to see woodrn shards and splinters scattered across the floor. The door hung lopsided on its hinges. A good breeze probably would have knocked it over. "Oh. My. God."
"I'm sorry."
Startled by the closeness of his voice, I glanced back at him in awe. He now stood less than two feet behind me in just his tuxedo pants. "How do you move so quietly?"
He shrugged those broad shoulders of his. "It's a useful skill."
I decided to not to ask him why he needed that particular skill. Looking back toward my destroyed door, I asked, "Did you use a sledgehammer?"
"No, my foot."
"Are you freaking serious?" I turned around and examined his huge feet. They were surprisingly nice with neatly trimmed nails. "You can tear down a door with your legs?"
He smiled. "I can do a lot of things with my body that would amaze you."
"Uh-huh." I didn't even try to stop the grin that tugged at my lips. "You never quit trying, do you?"
Sergei closed the distance between us and placed his big paws on either side of me on the handrail. Boxed in by his massive, half-naked body, I gulped. The amount of body heat pulsing off of him stunned me. He lowered his face until we were breathing each other's air. "Not when it comes to a woman as special as you."
Me? Special? For a moment, I considered this was part of his game, but then I realized he was dead serious. He really thought I was something special.
My belly trembled as his mouth descended toward mine. Heart racing with anticipation, I held my breath and waited for the touch of his lips. At the last second, he diverted his landing and playfully pecked my cheek. Even though it wasn't the kiss I wanted, I still felt an electric jolt of contact.
He must have seen the slight disappointment in my eyes because he smiled sweetly and dragged his finger along my jaw. "I'm going to head outside and shut off your water. If you'll put a broom and dustpan near the door, I'll clean up that mess."
"I'll do it."
Sergei shook his head. "I made the mess. It's my responsibility."
He backed away from me. Immediately I missed his closeness and wanted him back. As I watched him head downstairs and out the door he had demolished with those tree trunk legs of his, I finally understood that Sergei was much more dangerous to me than I had ever imagined.
I'd finally gotten a taste of how sweet and gentle and protective he could be—and already I wanted more.
* * *
Grunting, Sergei reopened the water valve to the house and swiped his sweaty forehead with the back of his hand. The stifling, muggy May heat made the simple tasks he'd undertaken seem to last ten times as long. Wondering why he hadn't immigrated some place cool and dry, he replaced the heavy metal cover protecting the shutoff valve and trudged back to the porch.
He used the kitchen towel he'd draped over the railing to clean off the mucky sticking to his toes and the soles of his feet before entering the house. Once inside Bianca's home, he surveyed the quick fix he'd done on her front door. He had found some extra lumber in one of the bedrooms she had turned into a workspace and had used it to patch up the splintered door. The lock was a lost cause so he nailed a board into place to keep the door shut for the night.
"All done?"
"Almost," Sergei replied and checked the board to make sure it would hold. When he turned to face her, a streak of heat raced through his stomach. His dick throbbed at the sexy vision before him. Clad in a silk robe, Bianca leaned against the doorway between the living area and the entryway. Her bare legs peeked out from beneath the modest hem to tease him. The thought of pushing her up against the closest wall and kissing his way from the very tips of her toes to the hidden vee between her thighs hit him hard.
She held out an ice cold beer. "I thought you could use this."
Surprised by the offer, Sergei accepted the chilled longneck and took a slow drink. The flavor of it pleased him and he glanced at the label. "This is good. It's not a brand I recognize."
"A friend of mine runs a microbrewery attached to his restaurant. I'm not normally a beer drinker but I'll sip one of his any day."
He hated that the mere mention of a male friend sent darts of irrational jealousy right through him. He had no right to feel that way. Bianca wasn't his. She was free to date any man she wanted, but that didn't make it easy to stomach the thought.
After another drink, he gestured upstairs. "I'm going to check the shower."
"Okay." She didn't make a move to follow him. Was she afraid to be close to him?
Heading back upstairs, he made a mental list of all the things he needed to pick up at the hardware store. He was relieved to find the shower turned on and off without issue. As he replaced the shower curtain and put the rod back into place, he studied the poorly done tile. It would all have to be ripped out. In fact, the tub and shower surround needed to go too.
Leaning back against the counter, he scanned the bathroom and started to mentally sketch some ideas for renovating the space. It was larger than most bathrooms in houses this old. A walk-in shower would go beautifully in the corner and a claw foot tub would fit perfectly in a spot right over there. He envisioned a crisp, clean honeycomb tile pattern on the floor, a new set of custom cabinets and marble countertops.
Sergei would jump at the chance to help Bianca restore her home to its former glory but would she allow him to work with her? He knew for a fact that she had been taking bids from other contractors for va
rious projects around the place. Even if he came in with a rock-bottom bid, she'd probably laugh in his face and send him on his way.
Facing the mirror, he frowned at the dirt and grime marking his hands and chest. He'd smeared rust on his face while working. Mud and flecks of grass clung to his pants. Wanting to get cleaned up, he shucked his pants and boxer briefs and stepped into the shower. The tepid water blasting his skin made him move a new hot water heater to the top of his shopping list. He grimaced at the floral scent of her soap but lathered up with it anyway.
After drying off, he wrapped the damp towel around his waist and examined his tuxedo. There was no way he was getting back his deposit now. In fact, he'd be lucky if the rental place didn't come after him for damages. There was no way he was slipping back into the wet fabric tonight. He considered asking Bianca to run out to his SUV to grab the gym that held two changes of clothing. The sound of her moving around in her bedroom gave him another idea.
Her earlier reaction to the teasing kiss he'd placed on her cheek emboldened him now. What if he went for it? No more sweet and playful overtures that she could so easily shoot down. It was time to be brave and maybe even the slightest bit brash.
Wearing only the towel, he opened the bathroom door and stepped into the bedroom. She had her back to him as she arranged an outfit on the back of her closet door. He could tell by the modest cut of the pretty green dress that she planned to wear it to church. He hadn't been joking earlier when he'd said he wanted to hear her sing.
Judging by the look she'd given him, Bianca must have thought he was crazy. He'd long ago stopped caring what other people thought of him. When he wanted something, he went after it. The hell with other people's opinions.
"I guess the shower works?" She draped a wide belt over the hanger holding the dress.
"Yes."
"Great. I really wanted to thank you for…" Her words drifted off when she pivoted to face him. Her dark eyes flashed open, and she gestured wildly to his mostly naked state. "Where are your clothes?"
"They're wet and dirty." He didn't even bring up the jeans and T-shirt tucked into his gym bag outside. He wanted to see how far this would go.
"So put them on, go home and throw them in the dryer." Her voice had risen to a slightly higher pitch. What was she so afraid of? Was it his size or his criminal ties? Or was it something else? Was she afraid of how good they would be together and how hard it would be to push him back outside that fence she'd built around herself?
"I'm not going home tonight."
She blinked. "Excuse me?"
"I broke down your door." He gestured in that direction. "I'm not leaving you alone in a house that can't be properly secured, especially when you have a prowler bothering you." He tilted his head. "Unless you want to come home with me?"
"No!" She hastily shot down that option.
"Then I'm staying here." He took a step toward her bed and started to remove the plush, decorated pillows. She had the sort of bedroom that looked like it was straight out of a designer catalogue. Though why one woman needed nine pillows on her bed perplexed him!
She held up her hands. "What are you doing?"
He tossed a fringed pillow onto the floor behind him. "It's late. I'm tired. I'm getting in bed."
"Not in this bed," she retorted sharply. "You can go sleep in the guest room down the hall. Pick up those pillows and stack them neatly on that bench on your way out."
Gathering the fluffy, girly pillows in his arms, he carted them to the upholstered bench she had indicated. He carefully lined up the pillows as she had asked but didn't leave her bedroom. "There's no way I can fold myself into that daybed."
The irked expression on her face softened. With a sigh, she reached for one of the normal-sized pillows tucked inside ruby-red silk. "I'll go. You stay here."
"Is that really what you want?"
She gulped and hugged the pillow tighter. "Yes."
"You are a terrible liar, Bianca."
"I haven't had much practice."
Holding the pillow like a shield, she skirted the edge of the bed and headed for the door. In three quick, long strides, Sergei intercepted and blocked her. She gazed up at him, a mix of apprehension and the faintest flash of excitement brightening her dark eyes. He gripped the pillow and tugged it from her hands.
She licked her lips, betraying her nervousness. "What are you doing, Sergei?"
"No more, Bianca." He tossed the pillow onto the bed behind her. "We're done playing this game."
"What game?"
"The one you've perfected." He stepped closer, and her smaller hands flew to his chest. He could have easily overpowered her, but he immediately halted his forward motion. "Bianca, I would never use my size or strength against you."
"Sergei…"
"No." He placed a gentle finger to her mouth, silencing her rejection. "One kiss, Bianca. You let me kiss you properly one time. If you don't feel anything—if you really don't want me—I'll go downstairs and sleep on the couch. After I fix your door in the morning, I'll never bother you again."
Her perfect white teeth dug into her lower lip. Finally, she nodded. "Okay. One kiss."
Grinning triumphantly, he slid his hand along the nape of her neck and dragged her against him. He was determined to make this a kiss they would never forget. If he only had one chance, he was going to make it count!
Chapter Three
What the hell are you doing?
I silently chastised myself while warily watching Sergei. Towering over me, he seemed so much more dangerous—and delicious.
"Come here. I'm too tall to do this comfortably while standing. It will be better if I'm sitting." He grasped my hand and tugged me back toward the low, wide club chair and ottoman in the corner of my bedroom. Sinking down onto the soft, worn leather, Sergei pulled me between his knees. The towel wrapped around his waist had climbed up rather scandalously, but I didn't dare let my gaze linger on his lap.
When his huge hands glided along my thighs and cupped my hips, I swallowed hard. "What are you doing?"
"What does it feel like I'm doing?" Sergei nuzzled my neck, his hot breath wafting across my skin.
"Everything but kissing me." Delightful shivers coursed through me, rushing through my belly and into my chest.
"I'm getting there," he promised.
I had the distinct feeling I had been hoodwinked by agreeing to let him have one kiss. Something told me that I would soon be agreeing to much more with him.
His hands slipped under my robe and the short nightgown underneath. He had the roughest palms I'd ever felt. After dating only professional types, it was something of a novelty to have such incredibly manly hands gliding over my curves. He whispered something in Russian that I didn't understand. As if remembering we didn't share that common language, he repeated, "You're so damn soft, Bianca."
I gasped when he grabbed my bottom in his big hands and gave it an appreciative squeeze. A short laugh escaped his throat as he ran his palms over my panties. Bending low his dark head, Sergei gripped the loosely tied belt of my robe between his teeth and gave it a tug. The sides of my dressing gown fell open, and he let the belt fall from his mouth. Dragging his lips side to side along my collarbone, he whispered, "Take off the robe."
"I really shouldn't."
He smiled at my quavering voice. "Then I'll do it for you."
Abandoning my backside, Sergei pushed the robe down my arms. The silky fabric fluttered around my feet. Even sitting, he was so damn tall that we were eye-to-eye while I stood. His heated gaze burned me as it roamed my body.
Without the robe covering me, I felt incredibly exposed in the thin, too short nightgown. Though I projected confidence and was normally comfortable in my skin, I suddenly experienced a wave of insecurity. All I could think about were the imperfections marring my body. Was he comparing me to all the other women he'd dated? I feared I wouldn’t measure up well.
Cupping my chin, Sergei peered into my eyes. "You're even pr
ettier than I'd imagined."
His compliment took me by surprise. "You've been imagining me like this?"
Sergei's mouth quirked to the side. "Well…I've been imagining you in much less." He fingered the spaghetti strap of my nightgown and started to slide it down my arm. "Much, much less."
"Wait." Breathless, I put my hands on his shoulders. "We need to slow down."
"Five months, Bianca." He reminded me of how long we'd been doing this will-we-won't-we dance. "That's slow enough."
Conceding he had a point, I pressed my forehead to his. "So stop messing around and kiss me."
He laughed and wound those massive, tattooed arms of his around me. Relishing the heat and power of him, I closed my eyes and waited for the first touch of his lips. His long fingers sifted through my hair just as his mouth brushed mine. His other hand rode the curve of my spine to settle on my lower back.
With a low groan, Sergei kissed me. It was the sweetest, most chaste of kisses, but there was something incredibly erotic about it. Perhaps it was the knowledge that so much more awaited us. It was the teasing, easy beginning to a night that promised to be among the best of my life.
The tip of his tongue flicked the seam of my lips. Dropping all pretenses of not wanting him, I surrendered to his seeking kiss. Our tongues touched timidly at first and then with more confidence as we grew accustomed to the taste and heat of each other. Cradling the back of my head, Sergei deepened the mating of our mouths until my knees were wobbling. I clutched his shoulders for support and whimpered under his sensual assault.
Proving he was an attentive lover, Sergei clasped the backs of my thighs and hefted me off the floor before my lust-weakened legs gave way and I crumpled to the floor. I gasped against his lips and started to protest the caveman move but he silenced me with another amazingly perfect kiss. Straddling his lap, I was glad I had picked such a wide, comfy chair for reading.
The caress of his hands left me aching with such incredible sexual hunger. He made me feel so alive with anticipation and excitement. All those neatly collected reasons to keep him at arm's length were slowly being wiped away from the list I'd jotted down in my head. This was bad. This was so, so bad.