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I push him back down on the bed, brace my palms against his chest, and ride. The pleasure builds once more, but this time deeper, even more satisfying. He keeps his eyes locked on mine, his hands on my hips, helping me keep the pace as we spiral up.

My release hits, sudden and devastatingly intense. I cry out his name, my fingers digging into his chest. He follows a moment later, his body shuddering beneath me, my name on his lips.

I sit there for a moment, the aftershocks of my pleasure making me shiver. I slide off and lie down on the bed next to him. Our ragged breathing fills the air. That and the roar of my blood still pounding through me.

I think I’ve known all along that this is where we would end up. As soon as I said yes to going back to his apartment, a part of me knew I couldn’t be this close to Michail without succumbing to the passion that bound us one night.

Michail shifts and leans over, pressing a soft kiss to my bare shoulder. After what we just shared, the small gesture shouldn’t touch me the way it does.

“Next time will be more drawn out.”

I arch a brow at him. “Next time?”

He moves, shifts until his body covers mine again, bracing himself above me as he leans down and kisses the skin between my breasts.

“Next time.” His mouth moves over, brushes one still-taut nipple. “And the time after.” I cry out as he grazes his teeth over the tender flesh. “And the time after that.”

“You’ve made your point,” I gasp as he kisses the underside of my breast.

“Good.”

He frowns at something between our bodies. I raise my head to see him hardening again. The ache returns, swift and deep, as if I hadn’t just been made love to.

“As much as I would like to stay in bed the rest of the day…”

One last kiss to my lips and he stands, making quick work of getting dressed. I watch him, some of my pleasure ebbing away as his words come back to me.

We have all the time we need.

Something seems to have shifted between us. Some of the tenderness we experienced that first night together has returned, deepened by the intimacy of the connection we now share. As he pulls his shirt over his head, I can’t help but wonder if something has changed for Michail, too.

Because I know, no matter how much I want to deny it, that those feelings I ran from five months ago are spreading, lodging themselves into the very fiber of my being.

Whether he will return those feelings, or at the very least trust me, remains to be seen.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Michail

Candles float overhead, flickering against the darkness of the summer night. A full orchestra plays at the far end of the terrace. Waiters move to and fro with trays of champagne.

The International Children’s Charity gala is underway.

I’m usually seeking out opportunities to connect at events like this, to network and further advance Sullivan Security. It’s clients like these that keep the true purpose of Sullivan in business; providing security systems for those who need them most. It’s not cheap to keep my own satellites orbiting above the Earth and providing the kind of service that reaches those communities. But when a millionaire or a world-renowned museum is willing to pay seven figures for a private consultation with Sullivan Security, and even more for a custom-designed system from a former officer in NYPD’s Special Crimes Division, it goes a long way. Add in our traditional security systems for the average customer, and Sullivan Security continues to advance.

There’s a vague sense of anticipation, of meeting the lawyer who will authorize the return of my mother’s paintings and finally putting Lucifer behind me once and for all.

Tonight, however, I’m not thinking about new contracts or hobnobbing with current clients. At this moment, my attention is focused on the woman at my side.

Alessandra is beautiful in deep, vibrant violet. The gown is a perfect fit. Sometime between when I left her bed to get dressed myself and came back, she’d styled her hair in loose waves that fall over her bare shoulders and down her back. Diamond bobs glint at her ears, the only jewelry besides the engagement and wedding rings on her finger.

More than one man is looking at her with appreciation. I step closer to her, catching their gazes and watching with possessive satisfaction as they blanch and look away.

“You’re not going to make friends if you keep glaring at people like that.”

I capture her hand in mind and bring it to my lips. “I’m not here to make friends. And it’s their fault if they continue to look at you like you’re available.”

Her smirk of a smile makes my chest clench. After having her this afternoon, experiencing her passion again and embracing everything she gave me, the thought of another man looking at her with covetous eyes sends a bolt of fury pounding through me.