Page 47 of Husband for the Holidays

“Lie back.”

“I meant—”

“I know what you meant. We’ll get there. But I’ve been thinking about this since I saw you play ‘I’m Coming for Christmas.’”

“That’s not what it’s called.”

“I know. Lie back.” There was a twitch of amusement at the corner of his mouth.

“Hilarious.” But she actually did think it was funny. “Careful,” she added as he pulled her hips closer to the edge. “My jeans might scratch the finish.”

“Then we should remove them.”

A nervous quivering invaded her abdomen as she settled on her back and opened her fly. When he grabbed the waistband in his fists, she lifted her hips and let him drag them away, only realizing as the cool air hit her damp folds that he’d taken her underwear with them.

As her bare backside settled on the cool maple, his hands ran up her naked legs, claiming her thighs firmly and pushing them open.

“I—” She shyly tried to find leverage to close them, stepping on a few keys that plinked.

“Let me,” he said, hot breath stirring the fine hairs on her mound, increasing the unsteadiness deep in her belly.

His fingers tickled and trailed around her outer folds, stimulating her. Teasing until heat gathered there with dampness and throbs of need. Then his touch grew more intimate, exploring and exposing her. When anticipation was coiled in her abdomen and she was biting her lip with yearning, the first lick of his tongue landed with such sensitive precision she jerked and tried to sit up.

There was no escaping what he did to her, though. He hugged her thigh and buried his mouth against her tender flesh, swirling and sweeping her into such a state of intense pleasure that she could hardly bear it.

Before she knew it, she was hooking her heel into his back, lifting to increase the pressure, seeking the culmination that was building inexorably inside her. She was filling the room with more song than the piano, moaning with pleasure and tight sobs of need.

When he eased one finger, then two inside her, it was the tipping point. Her moans turned to cries as climax shuddered through her, arching her back and twisting powerful contractions through her that sent flushes of heat chasing through her whole body.

He slowed his clever ministrations, soothing now as the rocketing pulses slowed and faded, leaving her limp and splayed before him.

“That was exquisite,” he said in a rasp that abraded all her sensitized nerves in the best possible way.

She was still weak with gratification, all inhibition gone, feeling so dreamy she couldn’t move except to roll her head and watch him nuzzle the crease of her thigh.

“This is the happiest day of my life.”

“Ha!” He picked up his head and gave her position of abandonment a thorough, possessive study. “Mine, too.” He gathered her up and turned to the stairs.

The upper floor was a his-and-hers suite with a shared sitting room and a terrace that could be accessed from all three rooms. Each bedroom had its own walk-in closet and luxurious bathroom.

Eloise had already seen her room with its pastel greens and subtle blue-and-ivory accents. Konstantin’s was a stronger palette of navy and forest and silver, all of it muted by the single lamp that was burning against the shadows of night.

The bed met her back before she realized she was tipping. His weight arrived between her thighs in the same motion. He held himself on his elbows and continued to kiss her, hands bracketing her head while his tongue searched out hers, brushing and claiming and wickedly suggesting the lovemaking that was to come.

Her senses were accosted by his weight and heat and the fact her legs were scraping denim as she rubbed her thigh against his. It was erotic to be half clothed this way, making her feel vulnerable against the roughness. She was overwhelmed by his power and size, but when his hand swept under her top and claimed her breast, swooping excitement dove into her belly and heat poured through her loins.

She ran her trembling hands over him, seeking skin beneath his pullover only to come up against his tucked shirt. She bunched the fine fabric in her fist, trying to pull it free of his jeans.

He rose onto his knees and yanked up his pullover, throwing it away before tearing open the buttons of his shirt with impatience.

She sat up to help, crooking her open legs on either side of his as she clumsily slipped the button on his jeans free, then drew his fly down. It took delicate wrangling to wriggle her fingers into denim and briefs, but she managed to reveal the shape pressing so insistently for release.

When she was holding his hot, turgid flesh, she sent one glance upward and found him watching her intently. Her stomach swooped again.

Nervously, she closed her fist around the root of his shaft and bent forward. It was curiosity and desire and a need to thank him and please him andlovehim.

But she was uncertain. She licked lightly, hearing his breath hiss in, which was encouraging. His fingers combed into her hair and massaged her scalp, encouraging her to continue. She explored his shape more thoroughly, painting him with her tongue until she found the courage to close her lips around his tip to delicately suck.

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