He pulled her against his chest. She didn’t cry this time. She just leaned into him, drawing on his heat, his strength, as though he were a brilliant sun and she a frostbitten flower desperate for heat and light.
“You can’t help me,” she whispered against his chest. His heartbeat was steady against her cheek, and her heart’s own frantic beat settled until they seemed to breathe and beat as one.
Dimitri cradled the back of her head, his strong fingers rubbing at the taut tendons that extended from her neck to her skull until the tension inside her ebbed away. “Tell me what you want from me. Tell me what you need.”
“I want to live again. I want to be able to love and trust again.”
“You never lost the ability to love, kiska. You love your parents, don’t you?”
“Yes, but I mean romantically. I want it so badly, but I’m so afraid.”
Dimitri lifted her face up so that she could see his. “You will love again and trust again.”
“How can you be sure?” She wanted to believe the sincerity in his eyes, but how she felt wasn’t going away overnight.
“Because I kissed you on the beach and you are letting me hold you now without fear, yes?”
“Yes . . .” She bit her bottom lip. He was right. She wasn’t afraid, and she wasn’t freaking out.
He slowly smiled, and tiny lines formed at the corners of his eyes . . . laugh lines. She thought of him laughing in the car earlier, the wonderful sound making her want to join in.
A wild fluttering in her belly made her knees quake, so she held on to him a little tighter.
“That is trust, kiska. Perhaps only a little, but it is trust all the same.”
When he’d kissed her on the beach, she’d only felt a brief spike of panic before it had faded, just like it had when he’d grabbed her in the bathroom on the plane. This man was different. Her body reacted unpredictably, or so she thought, but now she saw a pattern. Dimitri was incredibly attractive, a naturally dominant man who was a master of the very sensual bed play she had once been interested in, and his touch didn’t repulse or terrorize her. In fact, it was quite the opposite. He soothed and excited her at the same time. He was exactly the sort of man Elena would’ve been obsessed with before she’d been abducted.
But was she too broken to ever feel the way she needed to feel to be whole again?
“Dimitri . . .” It was one of the few times she had said his name. She lifted her face up to his.
“Yes, kiska?”
His accent made her shiver. With Vadym, his accent had left her on edge. But when Dimitri spoke, it was soft and seductive. It made her think of roaring fires, warm brandy swirling in clear stemless glasses, and bare skin sliding against fur rugs.
“Please hold very still. I want to try something.” She placed her hands on his face, feeling the light scrape of stubble on her palms. Every sense was heightened, and she took in his scent, letting it fill her head as she rocked up on her tiptoes and pulled his face down to hers. Their lips brushed so lightly at first; it was almost a dream more than reality. Then she moved her mouth more insistently against his.
His breath fanned her face as he parted his lips and welcomed her timid tongue to play with his. While a sense of urgency pressed her closer to him, she dared not do more than kiss him. A tingle grew in her lower belly, and she continued to move her mouth against his, exploring him. He moved ever so slightly, and her pulse quickened as the barest brush of his fingers touched her lower back. Her lips broke from his, and her hand slid from his face down to his neck. She closed her eyes, breathing slowly. A moment later, she opened her eyes to look up at him.
“I wasn’t afraid,” she whispered.
“No, you weren’t,” Dimitri agreed. His muscles tensed as he put his hands on her waist. “Is this okay?” he asked her.
She closed her eyes again, sudden flashes of Vadym grabbing her hips, shoving her over a bed . . .
“Kiska, open your eyes.” The command was easily obeyed, and she met his gaze. “You cannot see him or feel him if you are looking at me. Now, how does this feel?” His hands tightened slightly on her waist, calling her attention back to his touch. This time she did not close her eyes. She fixed on his blue gaze, the way his eyes were so unbelievably pure in color, yet gentle and steadfast in their intensity. His face, like the rest of him, seemed to be forged by destiny to make her dizzy with desire.
“It feels okay,” she admitted. “Do you feel okay?” she asked, then felt like an idiot. They weren’t two high school virgins in the back of a car.
“Holding you is one of the best pleasures and all my life,” he replied.
Elena’s lips parted as she stared up at him, stunned. “Me? Why?”
“There is nothing more intoxicating to me than a brave woman, and you are the bravest woman I have ever met.”
“I’m not brave. I’m scared all the time.”
His lips curved into a smile. “Courage is not the same thing as the absence of fear. Courage means facing one’s fears. It means that you get up when someone knocks you down. You keep fighting to live.”
“Dimitri, do you think . . . That is . . . I mean . . .” Her face was suddenly so hot she felt feverish.
He said nothing, his blue eyes holding her in place.
“I want to be brave. I want to be myself again, but I don’t know if I can trust anyone else. Would you help me?” She clenched her jaw, waiting to hear him deny her what she needed, a man to trust, a man to explore her limits with.
The thick dark lashes
