The Russian Seduction (22 page)

His flat male nipples were as sensitive as hers, apparently, judging by the way he growled when she nipped him. His breath definitely quickened when she rubbed the aching nubs of her breasts against him. But he honored the terms of their agreement, fists clenched against the bedding, even when his body strained beneath hers. Even when she rubbed her damp sex against his hardening cock.

Now a moan spilled from her own lips as she wrapped her hand around his taut length—so ready for her that he seared her fingers, already slippery with her own juices. He whispered words in Russian that urged her on, both of them panting as she rocked against him, feeling that deep shock of pleasure whenever his cock brushed her clit.

No question now of stopping, when all she wanted was more of him. His eyes locked on her face like cobalt lasers, his length rubbing against her slick flesh until she pulsed with the need to climax. Judging by the way he was focused on her, straining yet rigid beneath her touch, she was definitely rocking his world, and the primal thrill of satisfaction that gave her was amazing.

“Alexis,” he growled, so hard that she knew he was on the edge. “Put me inside you. Now—do it now.”

Damn, she couldn’t wait any more either. Fitting him against her wet heat, she sheathed him inside her, inch by inch until she rode him. And the thrill of controlling all that leashed power pretty much blew her mind.

As the train swayed beneath them, his rough-calloused hands closed on her hips, guiding her rhythm, rocking her against him with the train’s movement. The spiral of need coiled tighter inside her until she was gasping, completely focused, blind and deaf to everything except the way he made her feel.

“Now, Alexis,” he urged her, thumb finding her clit as he thrust deep inside her. “Come for me now.”

And she came apart, her channel clenching around him, her scream of release echoing without regard for anyone next door—even the entire Russian intel network. Let them all get an earful.

As the paralyzing waves of pleasure rolled through her, he stayed clenched beneath her, just barely holding back. She didn’t have a clue why, until he panted, “If you don’t want me to—come inside you—better stop right now. I’m safe, but—we forgot the bloody—raincoat.”

Slowly the meaning of the Russian phrase penetrated her sex-stunned brain. Normally, the discovery would have shocked the hell out of her. He’d always meticulously taken care of business, and she scrupulously insisted on it. Even with her ex, given his sexual history. Even though she’d been on the Pill for years, for the sake of convenience and predictability.

Yet it felt so intimate, sheathing Victor inside her, without the sterile latex shield of a condom between them. She hadn’t felt as connected to Geoff after five years of marriage as she felt with Victor right now.

There was something seriously wrong with her. Because instead of feeling alarmed by her vulnerability, the thought of letting him come inside her poised her right on the brink.

“Last—chance.” His body glistened with sweat as his hands clenched hard at her hips. “I’m safe, but—you could—”

“No, I can’t.” Her spine arched as the first tremor swept through her. “I can’t get pregnant. Victor—please. I want you to do it.”

“Thank Christ,” he muttered. He levered up to a sitting position, using all those reserves of extreme strength to rock her harder and deeper against him. His rock-steady arms supported her back, as her legs clenched around his waist.

When she felt the unmistakable fireworks of his peak spurting through her, Alexis clung to him for dear life and let go. Felt the carefully-ordered circuits of her mind being blown, and cried out with the terrifying, exhilarating rush of overload.

God, I never want this feeling to end.
The realization whispered through her brain. And the knowledge of what that could mean scared the hell out of her.

CHAPTER TEN

Alexis crawled out of the chasm of sleep, her body still heavy and aching from the once-in-a-lifetime orgasms he’d wrung out of her.
Jesus
…

Outside, darkness still pressed against the icy glass, but she guessed it was close to dawn. Thank God she was alone in the narrow bunk, though she could hear the slow rhythm of breathing across the way. Through the darkness, she could just discern Victor’s shadowed bulk sprawled across his bunk, his powerful body overflowing the cramped space. The blanket twisted around his naked hips, one bare muscled arm hanging near the floor.

And no, she was
not
going to slither over there and crawl under the blankets with him.

In the end, she’d insisted they sleep in separate bunks, though he’d made it pretty clear he wasn’t happy about it. But she was going to keep throwing every barrier in the book between them. Pure and simple, it was time for damage control. Anything to protect herself from any more exposure, from getting hurt any worse when this landmine blew up in her face.

Aware of a pressing need for the loo, Alexis groped for her boots and shoved her feet into them. She’d wasted no time pulling her clothes back on after their little romp—another barrier she guessed Victor hadn’t liked, judging by his scowl. She still felt groggy when she unlatched the door and poked her head into the corridor’s electric glare. At this ungodly hour, the coast looked pretty clear.

She found the grim, steel-fitted toilet and completed her business with dispatch, since it wasn’t a pleasant place to linger. Paused to run her hands briefly under the sink’s numbing cold water, then hurried to escape the stench.

She emerged into the corridor just in time to glimpse a burly man in a black leather jacket as he ducked out of sight. At the far end of the carriage, the automatic door hissed closed behind him.

Her heart jolted into overdrive, even as she told herself there were millions of dark-haired men with black leather jackets in Russia. She hadn’t even gotten a good look at the guy. Still, her skin prickled with unease as she scurried back to her cabin. Just before she stepped inside, she threw another worried look toward where he’d vanished.

Only to see his scowling face framed in the window of the automatic door, staring straight at her.

Swallowing back a cry, Alexis plunged into the cabin. Victor was sitting on his bunk, tugging on his boots in the darkness.

“What’s wrong?” he said immediately, uncoiling to his feet.

“That man who followed us at the nightclub,” she whispered, fighting for coherence as she yanked the door closed. “I think I just saw him again. He’s between the carriages. And I don’t think he wanted me to spot him.”

“Ok.” Victor tossed her coat at her, and swung down his battered backpack. “Bundle up tight. We may need to get off the train.”

Quickly she buttoned into her coat and checked that her gloves were in her pockets. The last time she’d looked, it was minus forty out there, and a lost glove could mean lost fingers at those temperatures.

A zipper buzzed as Victor opened the backpack and slipped something from the pack inside his coat. Cold metal gleamed in the moonlight, and her blood turned to ice.

“Oh my God,” she whispered. “Is that a
gun
?”

“Yes.” He shrugged into the backpack. “To be precise, it’s a Walther PPK standard police issue semiautomatic pistol. Know how to fire one?”

“No! I keep telling you I’m not an agent, Victor.” Old fears rippled through her, and she tried to get a grip. “Is it loaded?”

“Yes. Six rounds.” Poised before the door, he slid her a sardonic glance. “Don’t forget your briefcase, Ms. Castle.”

He thrust his head into the corridor, then hustled her out before him, turning them away from where she’d spotted their possible tail. Fear simmered just under the surface as Alexis gripped her briefcase and hauled ass. They were passing the toilet when, behind them at the other end, the automatic door hissed open.

“Go,” Victor ordered, a hand at the small of her back.

She punched the button, the portal before them slid open, and they plunged into the dark ice-cold rattle of the unsteady platform between carriages. Two running steps and Alexis punched another panel. They dove back into the heated glare of an identical first-class carriage.

Together they pounded down the passageway, toward the far end. They’d nearly reached the exit when, from the toilet before them, a dark-skinned man emerged to block their path.

Trapped!
Her brain screamed the warning, adrenaline exploding through her body like the time in college she’d snorted a line of coke.

“Down,” Victor grated in her ear. Moving on instinct, she dropped to the floor. Caught a blur of movement overhead as his foot sliced toward their opponent—a black belt’s perfect roundhouse kick.

The blow connected with a crunch against the target’s head. Groaning, the guy staggered, throwing a blind punch that missed. In a heartbeat, Victor followed up with a sweet sidekick that sent the guy reeling.

Crouched near the floor, Alexis snapped out her foot to sweep the target’s legs from under him. The guy went down like a load of bricks, and Victor pulled her up.

“Ok, I admit it,” she gasped. “You know how to kick—”

Over his shoulder, she saw a fleet of scowling bad guys steamrolling toward them down the corridor, closing fast.

“Three more of them behind you!” she warned him.

“Alexis Castle!” A man’s voice bellowed. Chechen accent for sure.

“Go,” Victor said gruffly, pushing her through the automatic door. They burst outside into a dark fury of whiplash wind and the train’s clattering roar. Particles of snow stung her face, and Alexis’s heart plunged as she realized they’d come to the back of the train. Not even a damn caboose before them, and nowhere left to run.

She shot a terrified glance behind them as the door sissed shut—closing out their pursuers, but only for a few precious seconds. The guys were slowing, more cautious now, certain they’d cornered their prey.

“What do we do?” she shouted over the howling wind. Barely visible in the snow-scoured darkness, the gray-white ground flew past.

Victor closed in behind her, wrapping both arms snug around her chest. Bent to murmur in her ear, “Do you trust me?”

“Yes!” she exclaimed—no time to think about it—and stared down in terror as the track unrolled beneath their feet.

“Good.” His body clenched around her. “Jump.”

“No,
wait
! Are you
crazy
—?”

Her words unraveled in a short scream as he launched them from the platform toward the piled snow beside the tracks. She had maybe a second to remember to keep loose as they plummeted through the air.

Somehow he twisted as they fell, and they hit the ground with his body cushioning hers. Together they rolled, absorbing the shock of impact, as the train roared into the night.

For a moment she could only lie stunned, eyes blinded by snow, and struggle to suck breath into her lungs. Then Victor brushed the snow gently from her face, his concerned features swimming into focus. He’d lost his hat, and snow caked his disheveled hair and eyebrows, giving him the savage look of an arctic explorer who hadn’t seen base camp in weeks.

“Well, captain,” she murmured, when she could breathe, “I’ll say this much. You definitely don’t bore me.”

“I’m glad to hear this, Counselor.” Amusement flared in his cobalt eyes. Then the blasted man actually laughed—his reaction to the adrenaline rush, she supposed. His mirth rang out against the black wall of trees surrounding them. Already many yards distant, the clattering steel snake of the
Red Arrow
raced away, its roar fading as the snow swallowed it up.

Difficult as it was to see through the darkness and the swirling snow, she glimpsed two dark shapes jumping from the train before it vanished.

Victor must have seen them too, because he unfolded swiftly to his feet and pulled her up, hands strong beneath her elbows.

“Come on,” he muttered, scooping up his pack. “We need to get out of sight.”

Under the close-bunched trees she couldn’t see a damn thing, but he caught her hand and pulled her forward. The woody scent of pine filled her head as they plunged through the drifts. She strained to listen for sounds of pursuit, but could hear nothing beyond the crunch of their footsteps and their own labored breathing. Every few hundred feet, Victor stopped them for a few breaths, and she knew he was listening too.