Page 11 of The Healing Touch (Manwhore #3)

“What’s so funny?” He handed her a glass and settled back, seemingly content to let her sit in his lap. She didn’t want to move either.

“I was thinking of the time your grandmother showed up at school.”

A lazy grin appeared. “I remember that. She demanded to know what I’d done and went on a rant in Russian, scaring Mrs. Bland. I love that old woman.”

Becca took a drink of the champagne and coughed as the bubbles assaulted her.

“Easy, Krasivaya . You sip it, not drink it like you would wine.”

How the hell was she supposed to know that? She’d never had champagne before. Her cheeks warmed with embarrassment. Just another difference between the two of them. He was so much more sophisticated than she was.

“Your face flames the softest shade of pink when you get embarrassed.”

“Didn’t your babushka teach you not to call attention to a lady’s embarrassment? It’s bad manners.”

“Probably.” His thumb started to rub slow circles into her upper arm as he sipped his own champagne. “I was never overly good at remembering them, though.”

She froze. His touch, while absentminded, was enough to send chills up her spine. He had no idea what he did to her.

“Sometimes I do remember them, but I don’t care. I don’t want to be proper. It’s not as fun as misbehaving.” His head dipped until his lips were right by her ear. “Don’t you think so, Krasivaya ?”

“What does that mean?” Her own voice turned whisper-soft. This was so not good. She needed to get up. To put distance between them.

“That’s not our game, sweetheart.” His nose skimmed along her ear, down her jaw. “ Ya tebya khochu .”

“It was never a fair game,” she squeaked out when his lips replaced his nose and traveled back up to her ear.

“Who ever said I play fair, Krasivaya ?” His teeth sank into her sensitive lobe, and it sent a ripple of desire through her.

“What are you doing, Dimitri?”

“I don’t know.” He pulled back, his blue eyes muddled with questions. “Probably something I shouldn’t.”

He didn’t give her time to respond and crushed his lips to hers. She went completely still in his arms, shocked. He switched tactics when she didn’t move. He rubbed slow, soothing circles along her back with one hand and cupped her cheek with the other, softening the kiss.

Becca’s own desire, coupled with how much she loved the man she’d never thought even sent a lustful thought her way, melted her resolve, and she gave in to the burning heat blazing a path through every inch of her.

She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him closer, opening her mouth when he nudged her lips.

He invaded like a conquering army. He took everything she had to give and then some. He leaned forward, pushing her back into the table, tilting her head so he could deepen the kiss. Becca spiraled out of control, lost in the warmth that was all Dimitri Kincaid.

She tasted like sweet champagne and minty toothpaste.

He explored her mouth, teasing her tongue with his own.

Fire scorched through him, and he fought the urge to bend her over the table, gather her hands in the center of her back, and fuck her so hard she’d wake the entire hotel.

Fought the urge to carry her to bed. Fought the urge to do exactly what he knew he shouldn’t.

But for all that fight, he couldn’t keep his lips from hers. It had been a lost cause the minute he’d seen her this morning.

It was Becca who pulled away first. She dropped her head onto his chest, and he laid his cheek against the top of her head. “We can’t do this, Dimitri.”

“I know.”

She went to stand, and he tightened his arms around her, not wanting to let go of her. “Just stay with me for a little while longer.”

“Not a good idea, Dimitri.”

“Maybe not, but I don’t want you to go.”

She didn’t say anything, but she stopped trying to get up.

He should send her inside and attempt to get his desire under control, but the thought of letting her go brought out something in him he’d never experienced before.

It was an instinct, a need to pull her close and stake a claim.

It terrified him, truthfully, but not enough to send her away.

They sat that way for a good hour, listening to the night and drinking champagne, before she interrupted their peaceful interlude. He knew it was coming, but he hated when she pulled away from him.

“We need to go inside, Dimitri. There’s a lot to do.”

The mountain of boxes. He’d forgotten all about them. She was right, of course. There was a lot to do, but he resented the damn boxes. They were interrupting this…whatever this was.

“I need to get cleaned up. Why don’t you call the front desk and see if there’s any place open that delivers this late? Then we’ll tackle that army of boxes waiting. Sound good?”

She nodded and stood. This time, he let her go without any arguments and rose, his legs quivering.

He caught the back of the chair to steady himself.

He saw Becca tense out of the corner of his eye, ready to help if he needed it, but understanding he wouldn’t want her help otherwise.

Charlene had spent the last few months treating him like an invalid.

Most probably would. That was another reason he wanted Becca with him.

She’d make him man up and do it, but she’d be the first person offering him help if he needed it.

She understood he needed to do this on his own.

She probably learned it from her daddy’s biker gang and all those assholes.

Bikers. He resisted the urge to laugh. His dainty girl grew up with bikers. Who would have thunk it?

“Becca?”

“Hmm?”

“Did those bikers teach you how to fight too?”

That pulled an impish grin from her. “Never piss me off, and you’ll never have to find out.”

“So, that’s a yes?”

“Let’s just say I can hold my own.” She wrapped her arms around herself. “Jackson made sure of it.”

“Come on, Jackie Chan, let’s get inside. Find us some food while I take a shower.”

She cracked a crooked smile his way and went to find the phone while he headed for the bathroom.

To take a cold, cold shower.