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Authors: Kate Walker
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not been a one-off. And that it was not something that was going to go away any time soon. Something about the woman that Ria had become reached out and caught him in a net of sexual hunger, one that thudded heavily through his body, centring on the hardness between his legs. The fall of the shining darkness of her hair, the gleam of her beautiful almond-shaped eyes, the rose-tinted curve of her lips, shockingly touched with a sexual gleam of moisture where she had slicked her small pink tongue along them, had all woven a sensual spell around him, one he was struggling to free himself from. He could still taste her if he let his tongue touch his own lips, the scent of her skin was on his clothes, topped by that slight spicy floral scent she wore that made him want to press his lips; to her soft flesh, inhale the essence of her as he kissed her all over.
He still did. He still wanted to reach out and haul her into his arms, kiss her, touch her. She was the last person in the world he should feel this way about, the worst person in the world to have any sort of association with, let alone the hot passionate sex his body hungered for. She came with far too much baggage, not the least of which was the connection with Mecjoria, the country that had once been so much a part of his past and had almost destroyed him as a result. Everything about her threatened to drag him back into that past, to enclose him in the memories he hated, imprison him again in all that he had escaped from. Ria might tempt him—hell, the temptation she offered was so strong that he could feel it twining round him, tightening, like great coils of rope, almost impossible to resist—but he was not going to give in to it. It would only drag him back into the past he had barely walked away from, reduce him all over again to the boy he had once been, lonely, needy, and that was not going to happen.
And then she had done it again. She had turned that look on him. The Grand Duchess Honoria look. It had hit him hard. It was the same look that she’d turned on him ten years before. He didn’t know which was the worst, the fact that she still thought she could look at him in that way or the fact that it could still get to him. That she could still make him feel that way. As if all he had done and achieved had never been. As if he was still the Alexei who had hungered for approval and friendship, especially from her. From Ria. His friend.
No longer a friend. That was too innocent a word, and what he felt now was definitely not innocent. Hearing her voice and the way that something—pride? Anger? Defiance?—had hardened it, he knew what he was going to do, even if the roar of heat in his blood made it a struggle to make his body behave as his mind told him he should. Hungry sensuality and coldly rational thought fought an ugly little battle that tightened every muscle, twisted every nerve.
But it was a battle he was determined to win.
‘I would appreciate it if you left now.’
It was something of a shock to find that echoes of the training his father had given him before the cancer had stolen even his voice had surfaced from his past to make him impose the sort of control over his tone that turned the formal politeness into an icy-cold distance. She would have had something of the same training so he didn’t doubt that she knew exactly what that tone meant.
‘But I can’t...’
‘But you can. You can accept that this is never going to happen—that you have failed. Whoever advised you to come here you should let them know that they sent quite the wrong person to plead their case. They would have done better to send your father—I might actually have listened to him more than I would to you.’
He heard her sharply indrawn breath and almost turned to see the reaction stamped on her face.
Almost. But he caught himself in time. He was not going to subject himself to that sort of temptation ever again.
‘So now just go. I have nothing more to say to
He still did. He still wanted to reach out and haul her into his arms, kiss her, touch her. She was the last person in the world he should feel this way about, the worst person in the world to have any sort of association with, let alone the hot passionate sex his body hungered for. She came with far too much baggage, not the least of which was the connection with Mecjoria, the country that had once been so much a part of his past and had almost destroyed him as a result. Everything about her threatened to drag him back into that past, to enclose him in the memories he hated, imprison him again in all that he had escaped from. Ria might tempt him—hell, the temptation she offered was so strong that he could feel it twining round him, tightening, like great coils of rope, almost impossible to resist—but he was not going to give in to it. It would only drag him back into the past he had barely walked away from, reduce him all over again to the boy he had once been, lonely, needy, and that was not going to happen.
And then she had done it again. She had turned that look on him. The Grand Duchess Honoria look. It had hit him hard. It was the same look that she’d turned on him ten years before. He didn’t know which was the worst, the fact that she still thought she could look at him in that way or the fact that it could still get to him. That she could still make him feel that way. As if all he had done and achieved had never been. As if he was still the Alexei who had hungered for approval and friendship, especially from her. From Ria. His friend.
No longer a friend. That was too innocent a word, and what he felt now was definitely not innocent. Hearing her voice and the way that something—pride? Anger? Defiance?—had hardened it, he knew what he was going to do, even if the roar of heat in his blood made it a struggle to make his body behave as his mind told him he should. Hungry sensuality and coldly rational thought fought an ugly little battle that tightened every muscle, twisted every nerve.
But it was a battle he was determined to win.
‘I would appreciate it if you left now.’
It was something of a shock to find that echoes of the training his father had given him before the cancer had stolen even his voice had surfaced from his past to make him impose the sort of control over his tone that turned the formal politeness into an icy-cold distance. She would have had something of the same training so he didn’t doubt that she knew exactly what that tone meant.
‘But I can’t...’
‘But you can. You can accept that this is never going to happen—that you have failed. Whoever advised you to come here you should let them know that they sent quite the wrong person to plead their case. They would have done better to send your father—I might actually have listened to him more than I would to you.’
He heard her sharply indrawn breath and almost turned to see the reaction stamped on her face.
Almost. But he caught himself in time. He was not going to subject himself to that sort of temptation ever again.
‘So now just go. I have nothing more to say to
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