do you call that poker game?”
Her big hazel eyes were wide and luminous in the moonlight.
“The worst mistake of my life,” she whispered.
Her heart-shaped face was pale, her pink lips full, her expression agonized. In spite of her tough-girl clothes, the black leather jacket and stiletto boots, she looked like a young, lost princess, trapped by an ogre with no hope of escape.
A trick, he told himself angrily. Don’t fall for it. He turned off the ignition. Grabbing her duffel bag, he got out of the car. “Come on.”
Closing the door behind him, he stalked toward the front door without looking back. He’d bought this twenty-million-dollar house three months ago, sight unseen, an hour before he was released from the hospital in Honolulu. The lavish estate on the windward side of the Oahu shore was set on the best private beach near Kailua.
He went into the sprawling beach house, and heard the sound of her stiletto boots on the patterned ohia wood floor. They passed through the large, expansive rooms. Floor-to-ceiling windows on both sides of the house revealed the Ka’iwa Mountain Ridge in one direction, and in the other, the distant pink-and-lavender dawn breaking over the Pacific and the distant Mokulua Islands.
But Vladimir was used to the view. Sick of it, in fact. He’d spent weeks cooped up like a prisoner here, as he recuperated from the car race that had nearly killed him, gritting his teeth through physical therapy. No wonder, within a month of being here, he’d started seeking amusement in Honolulu, half an hour away, at a private poker game. The fact that it was illegal to gamble at any resort in Hawaii just added to the spice.
At the end of the hall, Vladimir opened double doors into the enormous master bedroom, revealing high ceilings, an elegant marble fireplace and a huge four-poster bed. Veranda doors opened to a balcony that overlooked the infinity pool and the ocean beyond it. He dropped Bree’s duffel bag on the bed and abruptly turned to face her.
She ran straight into him.
Vladimir heard her intake of breath as, for one instant, he felt the softness of her body against his own. Electricity coursed through his veins and his heart twisted as all his blood coursed toward his groin. He looked down at her beautiful, shocked face, at her wide hazel eyes, at the way her pink lips parted, full and ripe for plunder.
Mouth parted, she jumped back as if he’d burned her.
“Give a girl some notice, will you,” she snapped, “if you’re just going to whip around like that!”
Her tone was scornful. But it was too late.
He knew.
For years, Vladimir had told himself that their passionate, innocent affair had all been one-sided—that she’d tricked him, creating a hunger and longing in him while she herself remained stone cold, focused only on the money she intended to steal from him. But just now, when he’d felt her body against his, he’d seen her face. Felt the way her body reacted. And he’d suddenly known the truth.
She felt it, too.
“You … you should …” Her voice faltered as their eyes locked. As they stood beside the four-poster bed, the brilliant sun burst over the horizon, coming through the tall east-facing windows, bathing them both in warm golden light. Everything he’d ever hungered for, everything he feared and despised, was personified in this one woman. Breanna.
Her long blond hair shimmered like diamonds and gold. Her eyes shone a vivid green, like emeralds. Her skin was pale and untouched, like plains of virgin white snow. Hardly aware of what he was doing, Vladimir reached out and stroked a gleaming tendril of her hair. It was impossibly soft.
He heard her soft intake of breath. “Please. Don’t.”
“Don’t?” He looked into her eyes. “You want me,” he said in a low voice. “Just as I want you.”
Her luscious lips fell open. Then with a scowl, she shook her head fiercely. “You’re out of your mind!”
“Don’t you recognize the truth when you see it? Or have you forgotten how?”
“The only truth is I want you to leave me alone!”
Twining his fingers through her long blond hair, he pulled back, tilting her head to expose her throat.
“Whatever your words say,” he whispered, “your lips won’t lie.”
And he ruthlessly lowered his mouth to hers.
His kiss was an overpowering force, savage enough to bruise. His grip was unyielding, like steel. Bree felt herself being crushed against his hard body.
Kiss? More like plunder. His lips were hard and rough. She felt his powerful hands on her back, felt their warmth through her leather jacket. The muscles of his hard chest crushed her breasts as he wrapped his arms tighter around her. He pushed her lips wider apart with his own, taking full possession of her mouth.
The tip of his tongue touched hers, and it was like two currents of electricity joining in a burst of light. Against her will, repressed desire exploded inside her, and need sizzled down her body like fire.
Her hands somehow stopped pushing against his chest, and lifted to wrap around his neck. It had been so long since she’d been touched by anyone, and he was the only man who’d ever kissed her. The only one she’d ever wanted. The man she’d loved with all her heart, the man who’d brought her to life and made her new.
Vladimir. As he kissed her, she sighed softly against his mouth. For ten long years, she’d dreamed of him every aching night. And now, at last, her dream was real. She was in his arms, he was kissing her….
But he’d never kissed her like this before. There was nothing loving about this embrace. It was scornful. Angry.
One of his legs pushed her thighs apart. His hands moved up to entwine his fingers in her hair, yanking her head back.
“No,” she whimpered, feeling dizzy as she wrenched away. She put an unsteady hand to her forehead. “No.”
Vladimir stared down at her. His gaze seemed almost bewildered. She heard the hard rasp of his breath, and realized that he, too, had been surprised. Then his face hardened.
“Why should I not kiss you?” He walked slowly around her, running one hand up her arm and the side of her neck. “You belong to me now, kroshka.”
Kroshka? She didn’t know what it meant, but it didn’t sound very nice.
Stopping in front of her, he cupped her chin. He handled her carelessly, possessively, as a man might handle any valuable possession—a rifle, a jewel, a horse. Insolently, he traced his hand down her bare neck. “I intend to take full possession of my prize.” His hand slid over her black T-shirt to the hollow between her breasts. “Soon you will be spread across my bed. Aching for me.” His hand continued to slide down her waist. Gripping her hip, he suddenly pulled her hard against his body. “Your only reason to exist now is to serve me.”
Shaking, she tried to toss her head. Tried to defy him. Instead, her voice trembled as she asked, “What are you going
