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I lean down and kiss her.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Juliette
NEEDSLAMSINTOme as Gavriil molds his lips to mine. I don’t bother to think, to acknowledge that this attraction is dangerous. Too dangerous.
Right now, I just want to feel.
This kiss isn’t like the shock of unexpected desire from our wedding. Isn’t the desperate hunger from earlier. This kiss is intimate, tinged with a surprising sweetness even as he takes charge and lays a hand on my bare back. I inhale, breathe in the taste of him as his fingers dance up and down my skin in a long, slow glide. More sweetness. Unexpected. It ignites the fire just as his ravenous touch did earlier.
Before I can think too deeply, his lips move from my mouth to the curve of my jaw, then down my neck. My breath escapes as he finds a previously unknown sensitive spot halfway down. He chuckles, the husky satisfaction trickling across my shoulder and down my spine. A pulse begins between my legs, a throbbing that makes me restless and try to press myself more fully against him.
“Patience, Mrs. Drakos,” he murmurs against my back before gently biting the tender skin. This time, his use of my married name excites, arouses.
“No.”
His chuckle turns to a laugh. He picks me up then, arms about my waist, and lifts me so I’m looking down at him. Midnight moonlight kisses his face, making him look like an otherworldly being in the pearly light. Sharp lines contrast with the slight smile on his full lips and the brightness of his eyes.
“I’m taking my time, Juliette.” His arms tighten around me. “This morning, I took from you. Tonight, I’m going to give, so don’t you dare try to rush this.”
The words shock me even as they wind their way through my veins, leaving behind a tangle of emotions I’m not ready to deal with.
Not wanting to lose this moment, I lean down and renew our kiss. He groans as my tongue teases his lips.
“Is this your answer?” he growls against my mouth.
When I nod, he deftly tosses me up, swinging my legs out and catching me in his arms before I can do anything but gasp. My arms fly around his neck and I hold on, my heart pounding. I look up and he’s watching me with a smug smile. I can’t help it. I throw my head back and laugh. I’m being held in the arms of a billionaire on a balcony overlooking Paris at midnight. If someone had told me six weeks ago that this would be my life, I would have told them they were crazy.
The amusement disappears as his eyes darken. If someone would have told me, too, that I would be willingly going to bed with Gavriil Drakos, I would have laughed until my sides hurt.
Now, there isn’t a single other place on earth I’d rather be.
Gavriil carries me through to the living room, past the grand piano and the elegant couch where he had laid me earlier and into his room. Like mine, it’s a mix of ivory, gold and deep blue. Ornate, expensive, yet regal, sophisticated. His bed is the same size as mine, slightly raised on a platform with another balcony that overlooks the Eiffel Tower. It’s dark now, the iron glinting silver beneath the moon.
He sets me on my feet, captures my hand in his and brings my fingers to his lips. He kisses each one until electricity is humming from my fingertips through my arms and winding down to that pulse between my legs.
His hands slide under the straps of my dress and slip them down over my shoulders. A moment later I’m bared from the waist up. His eyes heat up as he gazes at my breasts for the second time that day.
“Beautiful.”
I’ll never hear that word again without thinking of him. Of earlier, when admiration melded with apology. And of now, when he makes me feel like the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen.
He pulls me to him as he lowers his head to my breasts. My head falls back, hair brushing my bare skin as I moan. He sucks, kisses the tender skin, moves between them as he uses his tongue and lips to stir me into a storm of chaotic need.
Has it been mere seconds or long, delicious minutes since he started to undress me? Even as he continues to worship my breasts, his hands undo the zipper at the back. The dress falls in a soft whisper in a pool of periwinkle blue at my feet. The only thing giving me any coverage now is the scrap of white lace I pulled on earlier to give myself the boost of confidence, knowing I was walking the streets of Paris in sexy lingerie.
And now, as his lips part and he sucks in a ragged breath, I’m even more grateful I chose it.
He hooks a finger in the band and slowly, ever so slowly, slides the lace down over my thighs. A moment later, I’m naked under his heated gaze.
“Theós, eísai ómorfos.”
I don’t need to know Greek to feel the wonder in his voice. It banishes any lingering shyness, emboldens me to reach up and hold out a hand.
“I want you, Gavriil.”
He strips off his clothing with deft, sure movements. My body burns as he reveals tantalizing golden skin, muscled arms, chiseled abs shaped by his daily swims. The bed dips as he kneels. When he covers my body with his, I can’t stop the sound of satisfaction from slipping past my lips. I run my hands down his back, the first time I’ve touched him so intimately. I love the heat of his skin, the muscular strength beneath my fingertips.