One Christmas Night In.... Кэрол Мортимер

his arms tightened about her, crushing her breasts against the hard muscles of his chest. His hands moved down the slope of her back to cup her bottom and pull her in hard against him, and her legs began to tremble as she felt the pulsing evidence of his arousal against the softness of her stomach.

      Her fingers dug into his broad shoulders as his mouth moved to trace the long column of her throat, his lips hot against her skin as she arched her neck to allow him freer access. Her legs felt so shaky now she was afraid that if she didn’t cling on to him she might actually collapse at his feet.

      She was being bombarded with sensations. Her senses were assaulted by his heat and overpowering strength, and at the same time she wanted to push even the thin barrier of his shirt out of her way, so that she could touch the skin beneath. Not just touch. But caress. Kiss. Taste. God, how badly she wanted to taste him—all of him.

      What was Dmitri doing to her? How was he doing it to her?

      She didn’t behave like this. Had never felt like this with any of the men she had dated over the past ten years. She’d never wanted to rip anyone’s clothes off before throwing off her own clothes and begging him to take her. Right here. On the table. Amongst the debris of their meal.

      Dmitri could be her dessert! Lily instinctively knew he would taste rich and creamy and totally decadent. Sinful, in fact …

      Not giving herself time to think, to regret, she unfastened the buttons on his shirt, her breathing ragged, fevered as she pulled it apart and gazed hungrily at his bared muscled chest before touching him tentatively, her fingers a light caress. He gave a low groan as she explored, touching him where he was most sensitive, holding his fevered gaze with her own as she ran the soft pad of her thumb experimentally across his skin and saw for herself the effect it had on Dmitri. His eyes glittered, and there was a slight flush now to those sculptured cheekbones.

      ‘Lily … ?’ Dmitri hadn’t planned on kissing her, let alone having her touch him like this.

      He had been totally aware of her throughout their meal. Her smile. Her wistfulness. Her occasional sadness. A sadness he had longed to dispel. He had felt himself unwillingly drawn to her. To her beauty. Her heat. The musk of her arousal beneath the soft floral of the perfume she wore. And now that he had tasted the fullness of her lips, he wanted more …

      ‘I am not sure I can stop this, cara,’ he warned her gently, even as he rubbed the throb of his arousal against her yielding softness.

      She seemed not to hear him as she lowered her head and placed her lips against his skin, her tongue feeling like the rasp of a cat’s against his sensitised flesh, sending shock-waves of pleasure straight to the pulsing hardness of his shaft.

      Dmitri buried his face in her throat as he surged hard and demanding against her, his hands tightly gripping her bottom now.

      It was a perfect fit in his hands, just as he had imagined it would be, and he lifted her up until he felt himself nestled against the heat between her legs. He heard her soft groan as he began to move against 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