Even if she could, she didn’t want to.
It was time.
Instead of smiling, Alexei’s expression grew more serious. There was no triumph in his eyes, or greedy anticipation, just a steady regard that told her he felt the same.
Or was she impossibly naive, painting her own wash on circumstances?
Before she could decide, Alexei bent, slid an arm around her back and another behind her legs, and lifted her off the floor. Mina slipped her hands around his neck, torn between dismay at being hoisted high against his hard chest and quivering delight at how strong and sure he felt. How utterly feminine he made her feel.
She’d never ceded control to any man. Had resisted it, she now realised, after seeing so many acquaintances pushed into unwanted, arranged marriages. Her sister included. Now she discovered the delight of being with a man whose physical strength far surpassed hers. Surprisingly she didn’t feel vulnerable but treasured.
He carried her out of the bathroom and Mina’s pulse quickened as they approached her bed. But Alexei kept going, through the door and down the corridor that formed the spine of the house. Towards the master suite.
The hall was gloomy and the wind sounded like the malevolent howl of the desert djinns her nurse had told her about when she was little. Mina shivered.
‘We’re safe here.’ Alexei must have sensed her thoughts. ‘The main house is built to withstand worse than this.’ He stopped walking and fixed her with that steady gaze. ‘But if you prefer, we could sit this out in the basement storm shelter.’
He was giving her the opportunity to change her mind. One last chance at sanity.
For answer Mina slid her fingers into his wet hair and tugged his head down, pressing her lips to his. She slicked her tongue along his mouth till he opened. Alexei shuddered, then gathered her closer still, his hold so tight he crushed her breathless.
When, finally, he lifted his head, she couldn’t hear the wind over the thunder of her blood and Alexei had lost that veneer of calm. She read naked hunger in his dark eyes.
Mina squirmed as arousal coursed through her, coalescing in a sensation like wax melting and softening between her legs.
Then Alexei was striding down the dim hall, eating up the distance to his room.
Fleetingly Mina wondered about mentioning her inexperience, but she shied from anything that might delay or even stop what lay ahead. Besides, instinct had worked fine so far.
Alexei lowered her feet to the floor and switched on a bedside lamp. Mina had an impression of space, of furnishings the colour of parchment with azure accents, then Alexei put his hands on her waist and she had eyes for nothing but him.
His black hair glistened, wet against his skull. Lamplight highlighted the severe, beautiful angle of his cheekbones and threw into relief the stern set of his nose.
Mina’s gaze dropped to his mouth, so sensual and generous. Her heart dipped and she felt again the liquid rush of desire.
She swayed closer, grabbing his shirt. Of their own volition her fingers began undoing his buttons. Gone was the deft quickness of a woman who worked with her hands. She fumbled first one, then another, but Alexei didn’t help, just stood, still as a breathing statue.
A breathing, hot statue of majestic proportions. Mina finally slid the final button free and pushed her hands between the open edges of his shirt. Damp heat, heavily moulded muscle, the crispness of chest hair, the quick throb of his powerful heartbeat.
A quiver ran through him as she slid her palms over his pectorals to his collarbone, pushing the shirt wide across his shoulders and down his arms. Alexei shrugged and it fell, leaving Mina in possession of a view that stole her breath.
She wanted to sculpt him. She wanted to run her hands over every contour and angle, from the heavy weight of muscle to the masculine symmetry of ribs and hips. She wanted to taste him, to see if he responded to her lips on his body.
‘My turn.’ Alexei caught her as she leaned closer. She was still processing his words when he tugged her T-shirt up. Obediently Mina lifted her arms and tossed it free.
His gaze dipped to her breasts. Mina felt her nipples harden and, realising her bra was probably transparent when wet, felt heat rise in her throat. Not from embarrassment, but from a cocktail of pride and daring at Alexei’s expression. There was glazed heat in his eyes, while his tight mouth and flared nostrils spoke of immense control.
‘Not pink?’ His voice was hoarse, as if his throat had dried.
To her surprise Mina found herself pushing her shoulders back, inviting him to stare. Was this the same woman who never flaunted herself? Who found male attention more often a nuisance than anything else?
But this was different. With Alexei nothing was as it had been.
‘No, not pink.’ Her bra and matching knickers were of silk and cobweb lace in dark anthracite grey. The combination of bold colour and soft, exquisitely worked fabric was pure Mina, who’d never chosen a pastel in her life.
‘I like it.’ His mouth barely moved on the words. ‘Take it off.’ His voice was as harsh as the sanding block she used to finish a stone sculpture.
Suddenly his eyes were on hers, the cool green no longer cool. Mina felt a judder pass through her, something shared between them. Understanding. Desire. Desperation.