“Keep. Dreaming,” she declared.
His fork clattered into his empty bowl and he shifted to face her, one arm behind her, one on the table, bracketing her into a space that enveloped her in masculine energy.
She could have skittered out the far side of the bench, but she held her ground, trying to stare him down.
His gaze fell to her mouth, causing her abdominals to tighten and tremble.
“You’re not thinking about it? Wondering? Dreaming,” he mocked in a voice that jarred because he did not sound angry. He sounded amused and knowing. “Let’s see, shall we?”
His hand shifted to cup her neck. The caress of his thumb into the hollow at the base of her throat unnerved her. If he’d been forceful, she would have reacted with a slap, but this felt almost tender. She trusted this hand. It had dragged her up to the surface of the water, giving her life.
So she didn’t knock that hand away. She didn’t hit him in the face as he neared, or pull away to say a hard No.
Somehow she got it into her head she would prove he didn’t affect her. Maybe she even thought she could return to him that rejection he’d delivered earlier.
Maybe she really did want to know how it would be with him.
Whatever the perverse impulse that possessed her, she sat there and let him draw closer, keeping her mouth set and her gaze as contemptuous as she could make it.
Until his lips touched hers.
If she had expected brutality, she was disappointed. But he wasn’t gentle, either.
His hold firmed on her neck as he plundered without hesitation, opening his mouth over hers in a hot, wet branding that caused a burn to explode within her. His tongue stabbed and her lips parted. Delicious swirls of pleasure invaded her belly and lower. Her eyes fluttered closed so she could fully absorb the sensations.
She had wondered. Intrigue had held her still for this kiss and she moaned as she basked in it, bones dissolving, muscles weakening.
He kissed her harder, dismantling her attempt to remain detached in a few short, racing heartbeats. He dragged his lips across hers in an erotic crush, the rough-soft texture of his lips like silken velvet.
All her senses came alive to the heat of his chest, the woodsy spice scent on his skin, the salt flavor on his tongue. Her skin grew so sensitized it was painful. She felt vulnerable with longing.
She splayed her free hand against his chest and released a sob of capitulation, no longer just accepting. Participating. Exploring the texture of his tongue, trying to compete with his aggression and consume him with equal fervor.
He pulled back abruptly, the loss of his kiss a cruelty that left her dangling in midair, naked and exposed. His chest moved with harsh breaths that seemed triumphant. The glitter in his eye was superior, asserting that he would decide if and when.
“No force necessary,” he said with satisfaction deepening the corners of his mouth.
This was how it had been for her mother, Viveka realized with a crash back to reality. Twenty years ago, Grigor had been handsome and virile, provoking infatuation in a lonely widow. Viveka’s earliest memories of being in his house had been ones of walking in on intimate clinches, quickly told to make herself scarce.
As Viveka had matured, she had recognized a similar yearning in herself for a man’s loving attention. She understood how desire had been the first means that Grigor had used to control his wife, before encumbering her with a second child, then ultimately showing his ugliest colors to keep her in line.
Sex was a dangerous force that could push a woman down a slippery slope. That was what Viveka had come to believe.
It was doubly perilous when the man in question was so clearly not impacted by their kiss the way she was. Mikolas’s indifference hurt, inflicting a loneliness on her that matched those moments in her life that had nearly broken her: losing her mother, being banished from her sister to an aunt who should have loved her, but hadn’t.
She had to look away to hide her anguish.
The porter arrived to bring out the next course.
Mikolas didn’t even look up from his plate as he said, “What is the name of the man who has your things? I would like to retrieve your passport before Grigor realizes it’s under his nose.”
* * *
Viveka needed to tell him about Aunt Hildy, but didn’t trust her voice.