heavy-lidded eyes, his gaze sweeping slowly, so slowly over her, and excitement exploded inside her. Did he
know
how sensual he looked when he gazed at her like that? Almost as if he were undressing her with his eyes. And Hannah felt awareness and desire race along her veins and nerve-endings, set her whole body to liquid flame. She wanted this. Whatever it was, whatever was going to happen, she wanted this.
His gaze flicked upwards to her face and rested there, assured, assessing. ‘Maybe I do,’ he murmured.
CHAPTER FOUR
W HAT the hell was he doing? Sergei watched Hannah’s eyes darken—with desire, he knew—and felt that guilt needle him again. He was tired of it; since when had he had a conscience? He couldn’t have done the things he’d done in this life and still keep a conscience. Yet it seemed he had, at least when it came to a woman like Hannah Pearl.
She’d reminded him of Alyona with the flashing in her eyes and the lift of the chin and the way she smiled so whimsically, as if life still offered good things.
Hope.
She’d even made him mention Alyona, and he
never
did that.
The realisation made him angry and he uncoiled himself from his chair, crossing to where Hannah waited. He held out a hand to help her rise from her seat and she took it unhesitatingly, her eyes still so heartbreakingly wide.
Did she realise how she looked? Sergei wondered. Did she have any idea of what her sweetness did to him, how it both lacerated him with guilt and filled him with need? Made him want to both believe in and shatter her illusions?
‘Come.’
‘Where?’
She spoke with such trust. Gently Sergei tucked a tendril of hair behind her ear. Her skin was achingly soft, and he could smell the snowdrop scent of her hair and see the pulsefluttering in her throat. ‘I have a private dining room for my personal use,’ he told her. ‘We’ll have a drink there.’
‘I think I’ve had enough to drink,’ Hannah said with a breathless little laugh.
Sergei smiled. ‘Dessert, then.’ She was certainly sweet enough.
Hannah stared at him, her eyes wide, and, no matter how innocent she was, Sergei knew she understood where this was leading. She bit her lip, her gaze sweeping downward for a moment and Sergei almost—almost—let her go. Told her to leave.
Forget him.
Then she looked up, and he saw a new strength of determination in those violet eyes.
‘Lead the way,’ she said, lightly, and he threaded his fingers through hers and led her to the discreet wood-panelled door in the back of the dining room that led to his own private room.
The door snicked softly shut and he turned to her, the pretence of a drink or dessert dropped.
‘What—?’ she began, and then stopped, so clearly waiting.
‘What am I doing?’ he filled in, in a lazy murmur. ‘I’m going to kiss you.’
‘Kiss me—’ Hannah felt a bolt of amazed longing blaze through her. She could hardly believe this was happening, that a man like Sergei—so powerful, so incredibly attractive—could want her. She stopped, let out a soft sigh that she knew was her surrender. She wanted this. This kiss, and more than that. Wherever it led. Whatever happened. She was innocent, even naive, yes, but she knew what was going on. Knew what Sergei wanted … and what she wanted.
This.
‘Kiss you,’ Sergei confirmed. He reached out to cup her face, his palm rough and warm against her cheek. He let histhumb slide down to touch the fullness of her lips. ‘Do you want me to kiss you?’
Hannah let out a little laugh. ‘You’re a man of some experience, I should think. Can’t you tell?’
He laughed back, softly. ‘Yes, I can tell.’
And Hannah wanted him too much to care if she seemed transparent, obvious,
eager.
She smiled, waited. She wanted this, but she still would prefer him to take the lead.
And Sergei did just that, sliding his hands under her hair, drawing her closer. She came, willingly, even as her heart thudded hard and her head fell back
know
how sensual he looked when he gazed at her like that? Almost as if he were undressing her with his eyes. And Hannah felt awareness and desire race along her veins and nerve-endings, set her whole body to liquid flame. She wanted this. Whatever it was, whatever was going to happen, she wanted this.
His gaze flicked upwards to her face and rested there, assured, assessing. ‘Maybe I do,’ he murmured.
CHAPTER FOUR
W HAT the hell was he doing? Sergei watched Hannah’s eyes darken—with desire, he knew—and felt that guilt needle him again. He was tired of it; since when had he had a conscience? He couldn’t have done the things he’d done in this life and still keep a conscience. Yet it seemed he had, at least when it came to a woman like Hannah Pearl.
She’d reminded him of Alyona with the flashing in her eyes and the lift of the chin and the way she smiled so whimsically, as if life still offered good things.
Hope.
She’d even made him mention Alyona, and he
never
did that.
The realisation made him angry and he uncoiled himself from his chair, crossing to where Hannah waited. He held out a hand to help her rise from her seat and she took it unhesitatingly, her eyes still so heartbreakingly wide.
Did she realise how she looked? Sergei wondered. Did she have any idea of what her sweetness did to him, how it both lacerated him with guilt and filled him with need? Made him want to both believe in and shatter her illusions?
‘Come.’
‘Where?’
She spoke with such trust. Gently Sergei tucked a tendril of hair behind her ear. Her skin was achingly soft, and he could smell the snowdrop scent of her hair and see the pulsefluttering in her throat. ‘I have a private dining room for my personal use,’ he told her. ‘We’ll have a drink there.’
‘I think I’ve had enough to drink,’ Hannah said with a breathless little laugh.
Sergei smiled. ‘Dessert, then.’ She was certainly sweet enough.
Hannah stared at him, her eyes wide, and, no matter how innocent she was, Sergei knew she understood where this was leading. She bit her lip, her gaze sweeping downward for a moment and Sergei almost—almost—let her go. Told her to leave.
Forget him.
Then she looked up, and he saw a new strength of determination in those violet eyes.
‘Lead the way,’ she said, lightly, and he threaded his fingers through hers and led her to the discreet wood-panelled door in the back of the dining room that led to his own private room.
The door snicked softly shut and he turned to her, the pretence of a drink or dessert dropped.
‘What—?’ she began, and then stopped, so clearly waiting.
‘What am I doing?’ he filled in, in a lazy murmur. ‘I’m going to kiss you.’
‘Kiss me—’ Hannah felt a bolt of amazed longing blaze through her. She could hardly believe this was happening, that a man like Sergei—so powerful, so incredibly attractive—could want her. She stopped, let out a soft sigh that she knew was her surrender. She wanted this. This kiss, and more than that. Wherever it led. Whatever happened. She was innocent, even naive, yes, but she knew what was going on. Knew what Sergei wanted … and what she wanted.
This.
‘Kiss you,’ Sergei confirmed. He reached out to cup her face, his palm rough and warm against her cheek. He let histhumb slide down to touch the fullness of her lips. ‘Do you want me to kiss you?’
Hannah let out a little laugh. ‘You’re a man of some experience, I should think. Can’t you tell?’
He laughed back, softly. ‘Yes, I can tell.’
And Hannah wanted him too much to care if she seemed transparent, obvious,
eager.
She smiled, waited. She wanted this, but she still would prefer him to take the lead.
And Sergei did just that, sliding his hands under her hair, drawing her closer. She came, willingly, even as her heart thudded hard and her head fell back
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