each cold cheek.
Hastily she turned away and climbed into the sedan, still half-certain he meant to climb after her into the intimate cocoon of the back seat. If he did, she was climbing right out the other end, and to hell with her dented pride. Tonight’s events had made it glaringly apparent—although hopefully not to him—that she had less control over her own body and its reactions than she’d fondly imagined.
Thankfully, he closed the door between them and thumped the roof twice to signal the driver. Then the car was purring away. She curled up in the heated seat and hugged her briefcase to her chest, damp palms leaving smudges on the expensive leather. Jesus.
Knowing she was in trouble big time, way over her head. Listing an entire catalog of reasons why she had to stay away from Captain Victor Kostenko—far away.
Knowing that if he chose to pursue her in earnest, she couldn’t be certain she trusted herself to run.
CHAPTER THREE
The next afternoon was a command performance for Alexis—a birthday fete for the Embassy’s Chief Admin Officer, a good-natured guy in his mid-fifties who’d done her a few good turns at post. Various colleagues from the expatriate community showed up, and Alexis did her part to make them feel welcome.
Not easy to do in the sterile confines of the Embassy’s Winter Garden, a stark glass-walled reception room “livened up” with a smattering of appalling examples of contemporary American art.
Even though she’d deliberately chosen a glass of sparkling water with lime in lieu of champagne, she found herself struggling to concentrate on these carefully-weighted conversations. In this environment, every casual exchange with another official needed to be microscopically screened for policy nuances from its capital. Usually, the exercise was second nature to her.
Today, she couldn’t stop thinking about her rendezvous with the Russian sub captain. After returning to the Embassy compound last night, she’d barely slept. When she finally managed to doze, she was treated to the debut appearance of a really erotic dream. Featuring Captain Victor Kostenko, in searing detail, doing things she’d been struggling all day not to think about.
She’d never had a dream in her life like that, a dream that dampened the bikini panties she was sleeping in, and stiffened her nipples until they chafed against her camisole. When those rough-skinned climber’s hands finished exploring her body, the hot wet rasp of his tongue took over. Then she’d convulsed awake, the pulse of pleasure arching her back and sending chills down her legs, her cry still echoing through the heated darkness of her townhouse.
Seduced by a dream, she thought wryly. A very wet dream . That was all Kostenko could ever be, if she wanted to keep her impressive new position. She’d hurried in early to log a terse readout on their encounter—minus the way he’d touched her, and the way she’d responded, and the dream—and determined to regain control of their bilateral “dialogue” before either of them received instructions on a follow-up.
The first time I saw you, I burned to discover how you would look and feel and taste in my bed. She couldn’t exactly report that to her male superiors. Instead she’d noted, blanketing the report in her blandest and most bureaucratic language, that the captain had expressed a desire to see her socially.
Of course, Geoff had taken one look at her censored version of events and read between the lines. Calling her into his office, he’d subjected her to a chilly lecture on “compromising entanglements” with her Russian counterparts, patronizing her as though she were some wide-eyed Third Secretary on her first tour of duty. Thank God he hadn’t been at the Bolshoi last night to witness how compromising her unorthodox entanglement with the captain had truly been.
Now, feeling her thoughts bounce around like the projectile in a pinball machine, Alexis sipped her
Hastily she turned away and climbed into the sedan, still half-certain he meant to climb after her into the intimate cocoon of the back seat. If he did, she was climbing right out the other end, and to hell with her dented pride. Tonight’s events had made it glaringly apparent—although hopefully not to him—that she had less control over her own body and its reactions than she’d fondly imagined.
Thankfully, he closed the door between them and thumped the roof twice to signal the driver. Then the car was purring away. She curled up in the heated seat and hugged her briefcase to her chest, damp palms leaving smudges on the expensive leather. Jesus.
Knowing she was in trouble big time, way over her head. Listing an entire catalog of reasons why she had to stay away from Captain Victor Kostenko—far away.
Knowing that if he chose to pursue her in earnest, she couldn’t be certain she trusted herself to run.
CHAPTER THREE
The next afternoon was a command performance for Alexis—a birthday fete for the Embassy’s Chief Admin Officer, a good-natured guy in his mid-fifties who’d done her a few good turns at post. Various colleagues from the expatriate community showed up, and Alexis did her part to make them feel welcome.
Not easy to do in the sterile confines of the Embassy’s Winter Garden, a stark glass-walled reception room “livened up” with a smattering of appalling examples of contemporary American art.
Even though she’d deliberately chosen a glass of sparkling water with lime in lieu of champagne, she found herself struggling to concentrate on these carefully-weighted conversations. In this environment, every casual exchange with another official needed to be microscopically screened for policy nuances from its capital. Usually, the exercise was second nature to her.
Today, she couldn’t stop thinking about her rendezvous with the Russian sub captain. After returning to the Embassy compound last night, she’d barely slept. When she finally managed to doze, she was treated to the debut appearance of a really erotic dream. Featuring Captain Victor Kostenko, in searing detail, doing things she’d been struggling all day not to think about.
She’d never had a dream in her life like that, a dream that dampened the bikini panties she was sleeping in, and stiffened her nipples until they chafed against her camisole. When those rough-skinned climber’s hands finished exploring her body, the hot wet rasp of his tongue took over. Then she’d convulsed awake, the pulse of pleasure arching her back and sending chills down her legs, her cry still echoing through the heated darkness of her townhouse.
Seduced by a dream, she thought wryly. A very wet dream . That was all Kostenko could ever be, if she wanted to keep her impressive new position. She’d hurried in early to log a terse readout on their encounter—minus the way he’d touched her, and the way she’d responded, and the dream—and determined to regain control of their bilateral “dialogue” before either of them received instructions on a follow-up.
The first time I saw you, I burned to discover how you would look and feel and taste in my bed. She couldn’t exactly report that to her male superiors. Instead she’d noted, blanketing the report in her blandest and most bureaucratic language, that the captain had expressed a desire to see her socially.
Of course, Geoff had taken one look at her censored version of events and read between the lines. Calling her into his office, he’d subjected her to a chilly lecture on “compromising entanglements” with her Russian counterparts, patronizing her as though she were some wide-eyed Third Secretary on her first tour of duty. Thank God he hadn’t been at the Bolshoi last night to witness how compromising her unorthodox entanglement with the captain had truly been.
Now, feeling her thoughts bounce around like the projectile in a pinball machine, Alexis sipped her
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