Page 82 of Mile High Ruin

I knead her through the fabric of her skirt, slow and deliberate, feeling the way her entire body responds.

Her fingers tighten in my hair. “Vadim.”

The way she says my name makes restraint difficult.

I kiss down the side of her jaw, then her neck, tasting the warm skin beneath her ear while my hands continue moving over her body. She trembles, but not from fear this time. I know the difference now.

Her head tips to the side, giving me more room without being asked. I kiss the hollow beneath her ear and feel her pulse racing against my mouth. My hand slides up her side, cupping her breast through her blouse. She inhales sharply, and I rub my thumb over the hard point beneath the fabric. Her knees shift closer between mine.

Fuck. She’s responsive in a way that destroys patience. Every touch produces something honest.

A breath.

A tremor.

A quiet sound she tries to swallow.

I want all of it. I want to strip away the uniform, put her on the hospital bed, and discover exactly how many different noises I can pull from her before somebody outside remembers I have been missing too long.

My hand closes more firmly over her breast, and she whimpers against my neck. The sound almost ruins me.

I drag my mouth back to hers. She kisses me harder now, less uncertain than she was in the aircraft, one hand sliding to the back of my neck while the other moves over my bare chest.

Her palm brushes my ribs. Pain flashes near the wound, and I tense.

She immediately pulls back. “See?”

I keep my hands around her waist. “I’m fine.”

“You are impossible.”

“You have mentioned that.”

“And you clearly consider it praise.”

“It depends who says it.”

She looks down at me. For several seconds, neither of us moves.

Then her thumb brushes my eyebrow again. The tenderness of the gesture hits harder than desire. I close my eyes for one brief second, and when I open them, she’s still there.

Still between my legs.

Still looking at me as though I’m something she’s trying to understand.

I don’t know what to do with that.

So I kiss her again.

13

SLOANE

His mouth is on mine before the car door has fully closed.

One second I’m sliding across the back seat, trying not to jostle the fresh dressing at his side, and the next Vadim’s hand is around the back of my neck and he’s pulling me toward him with the same controlled certainty he seems to apply to everything else.

I make a surprised sound against his mouth.