her most sensitive part.
Dmitri cursed the layers of material that separated them, knowing that if they weren’t there he would not be able to stop himself from burying himself inside her, as deep as he could go, and that once he had entered her heat he really would lose all control.
He lifted Lily to sit on the tabletop and his hands moved to the bottom of her sweater. He slowly lifted the woollen garment and his gaze became riveted on the fullness of her breasts, cupped in black lace, the nipples hard and deeply rose against that wispy material.
He wanted to taste them—needed to taste them—to take those rosy buds into his mouth and—
Too impatient to waste time locating the fastening of her bra, Dmitri simply pulled the lace down until the nipples popped over the top of those silky cups, full and hard and surrounded by darkly flushed areolae.
Lily gasped as he stepped in between her parted legs, his arousal a pulsing caress against her even through their clothes, his hair a silky brush against her skin as he lowered his head to her breast. Her initial gasp turned to a whimper, and her fingers dug into his shoulders as his lips fastened onto her nipple and he began to suck. Softly at first, and then harder, drawing her hungrily into his mouth. Her fingers became entangled in the thick darkness of his hair as she held him to her, lost in the pleasure that coursed through her body.
There was a soft sound as his lips released her breast. One of his hands was now cupping her there, clever fingers capturing the swollen nipple before pulling gently, rhythmically, as he turned the attention of his mouth to her other breast. The soft rasp of his tongue across the nipple, and the caress of his fingers against its twin caused a trembling through her body that seemed to begin at her toes and fingers and slowly work its way upwards and inwards, until it became centralised in a low, demanding throb between her thighs. Wave after wave of heated pleasure was building, ever building, until Lily felt as if she might shatter into a million pieces.
‘Touch me, Lily!’ Dmitri released her nipple to groan, the heat of his breath a tantalising caress against the dampness of her flesh. ‘Dio mio, Lily, I need your hands on me …’ he entreated, as he took one of her hands and placed it on his jeans, over the hardness of him.
Lily felt it surge, pulse, as her palm pressed against him in a slow and rhythmic caress. Her own pleasure spiralled out of control as she looked down and watched as he once again drew her nipple into his mouth, his teeth grazing sensually against that sensitive bud.
Just as she had imagined there was something erotic, almost primitive, in seeing his much swarthier complexion against the paleness of her skin, his lashes a dark shadow against the flush of his cheeks, his tousled hair falling across his brow.
‘What the—?’
Lily gave a protesting groan as Dmitri froze against her breast, taking several seconds to realise why. And then Lily heard it too. Mozart. Faint. But recognisably Mozart.
The ringtone she had chosen for her mobile!
It was like a having a bucket of ice cold water thrown over her. Over both of them.
Dmitri’s arms fell back to his sides and he stepped back, a dark scowl on his brow as he looked down at her with hot green eyes.
Lily suddenly became uncomfortably aware of how wanton she must look, with her legs parted to accommodate him standing between her thighs, her black sweater pushed up and her breasts bared and swollen as they spilled over the cups of her bra.
Oh, help!
Dmitri watched from between hooded lids as Lily moved hastily off the table to turn away from him and straighten her clothing. Then she quickly searched inside her shoulder bag for the ringing mobile, the heavy curtain of her silver-blond hair falling forward to hide her flushed face, still slightly tangled from the caress of Dmitri’s fingers.
What had just happened? Why had it happened?
Admittedly she was a stunningly beautiful woman, but she was also Felix Barton’s sister—the one woman in the world Dmitri should not have made love to!
He looked down at his own unbuttoned shirt, at once assailed with the memory of how Lily had pulled those buttons apart, how her bold lips had felt against his flesh. How her hands had—
‘Hello?’
Dmitri’s head came up like a predator that had just scented prey as Lily finally found her mobile and took the call. Felix! It had to be him. Who else would telephone her at this time of night?
‘Hey!’ Lily protested as the phone was plucked out of her fingers before Dmitri placed it against his own ear.
‘Dmitri!’
‘Is that you, Barton?’ He raised his other hand with the obvious intention of silencing her as he listened briefly before speaking again. ‘Who is this?’ he demanded harshly.
‘Obviously not Felix,’ Lily snapped as she retrieved her mobile. ‘Yes. Sorry about that, Danny.’ She shot Dmitri a resentful glance. ‘Oh, just a … a friend of my brother’s. No, he doesn’t sound very friendly, does he?’ She gave a forced laugh and Dmitri glowered across at her as he slowly refastened his shirt. ‘Look, can I call you back tomorrow? Things are a little hectic here right now, and … Yes, of course I’ll be sure and call you back,’ she said lightly. ‘Okay. Bye, Danny.’
A loaded silence filled the kitchen once she had ended the call and put the mobile back in her bag. She felt too stunned by what had just happened and the way her body still tingled in the aftermath of their passion to speak. She wasn’t at all sure why he was suddenly silent.
It could be any number of things. Disappointment that the call hadn’t been from Felix. Or maybe he was just disgusted by what had happened between them. Or perhaps it was a combination of the two; Lily certainly felt less than proud of her own wanton behaviour.
‘Who is Danny?’
She gave Dmitri a startled look. ‘Sorry?’
‘Who is Danny?’ he repeated through gritted teeth. Or there could be a third reason for Dmitri’s accusatory silence …
Not that Lily thought for a moment that he was in the least jealous that she had received a telephone call from another man. It was more likely that he was merely contemptuous of the fact that she had allowed him to make love to her when she obviously already had a man in her life. Except she didn’t …
‘Just a friend,’ she dismissed.
Dmitri raised sceptical brows. ‘And do your male friends usually telephone you at …’ He glanced down at the plain gold watch on his wrist ‘… ten-thirty at night when you are away on your holidays?’
‘Obviously the answer to that is yes—because one just did!’ Lily said, giving an awkward shrug.
Dmitri studied her narrowly. ‘One? How many male friends do you have?’
Lily felt the colour warm her cheeks at the derision in his tone. ‘Dozens, actually,’ she snapped.
‘I see.’ His delicious mouth thinned disapprovingly.
‘Somehow I doubt that,’ she scorned, knowing that each of them meant something
