He discarded his gloves as he headed to a wall cabinet. I heard the clink of glass, and then he turned back to me holding a vodka shot. “Drink.”
I accepted the glass but hesitated. Though I was eager to get warm, I knew better than to be in a sauna with this man—while drinking vodka.
“Natalie, drink. You don’t even realize how cold you are.”
At that instant, my teeth decided to chatter with a vengeance. With a mulish look, I chugged the burning liquid. When I set the glass down on a shelf, rim first, he gave me a satisfied nod and took my hand, leading me back toward the fire. While I watched, he stoked it even hotter, then ladled water over the rocks.
Steam hissed, floating through the air. It surrounded us, caressing my face. “If we stay h-here, something might happen.” Something sinful.
Like the two of us stripping down to nothing, so we could lick droplets from each other’s skin.
“Happen?” He strode toward me, removing his coat on the way.
I backed up a step. “You know, between us.” He’d gone so long—why would he blow his perfect record now?
He raised his brows, eyes devilish in the firelight and mist. “Can’t control yourself where I’m concerned?” His voice was a deep rasp.
Resist him, Nat. “Maybe I can. Doesn’t mean I have to prove it by hanging out in a freaking sauna with you.” When he stalked closer, I demanded, “What are you doing, Sevastyan?”
“Getting you out of those wet clothes,” he said in a tone that brooked no resistance.
What the hell? Had the countdown clock finally zeroed out? My breaths shallowed as I recalled his restlessness, his piercing looks and mounting tension, as if he’d been about to strike.
Because he had been?
But why now? Why today? And in what . . . manner?
I pictured those indecipherable warnings he’d cast my way. Was I brave enough to face whatever it was he’d been warning me from? “And what if I refuse to take off my clothes, huh?”
“Pet . . .” Now every time he called me that it reminded me of his words: collar and keep you. He reached for my jacket, his gaze gone molten. “There’s one thing you should know.”
How could a single heated look make shivers dance over my entire body? “What’s that?”
“I wasn’t asking.”
Chapter 18
“Hold on!” I tripped back from Sevastyan as he advanced on me through the billowing steam. He seemed bent on getting me out of my wet clothes.
Hanging out in a sensual sauna, naked, with an off-limits enforcer who happened to make my mouth water: what could possibly go wrong?
And Sevastyan had been all too prepared to take advantage of the storm. The sauna fire had been lit before we’d even arrived. He’d hinted around about planning my seduction, which made me wonder . . . “What’s gotten into you, Siberian? I know the rules—we’re not supposed to be trifling with each other.”
In a low tone, with words like a promise, he said, “I have no intention of trifling with you.”
I frowned. “But that’s why you’ve avoided me, isn’t it? Because you don’t want to risk getting saddled with me. So what is this?”
“It’s simple.” He was almost upon me. “You’re freezing when I can make you warm.”
When I skirted away, he raised his palms, as if to let me know he’d never force anything on me.
I rolled my eyes. Like he ever would have to.
“Then I’ll need to make it hotter in here.” He returned to the fire. After coaxing more warmth and steam, he sat on a nearby bench and began undressing, his manner casual.
I was rapt as he unbuttoned his shirt with those ringed fingers. I didn’t know if it was the vodka in my belly or a growing coil of excitement that was heating me more—just knew my chill had all but disappeared.
When he drew off the wet fabric, the muscles in his arms and shoulders rippled, those tattoos stark across his flexing chest.
I’d researched more about those markings of his. The two stars meant that he was a criminal aristocrat, a man who’d neared the upper echelons of the Bratva. The ones on his fingers signified that he’d been a thief and an assassin. But I also saw scars that I hadn’t noticed on the plane—one from what must be a bullet wound in his side and another slash down the back of his arm that looked like a knife wound.
More reminders of how much pain his body had taken. Yet these scars didn’t detract from his attractiveness; just the opposite.
He raised his chin proudly. The bastard knew how good his body looked.
How masculine.
How sexual.
I found my feet taking me closer to him, my hands itching to touch his damp skin. What woman would be able to resist him?
A better woman than I.
Before I knew it, I’d sat on the bench a couple of feet from him. I felt obligated to say, “I don’t want this.”
He raised his brows. Oh, really? “Take off your jacket.”
With a swallow, I did. My ivory silk blouse was transparent, my stiff ni**les and coral-colored areolas visible through my white lace bra.
When he made a low sound of appreciation, I admitted, “I’m scared.”
“Of me?”
Never. I shook my head. “I’m scared of what this means. From what I understand, if we keep fooling around, you’re going to get permanently stuck with me. Like you might as well slip a ring on my finger. Especially if we have sex.”