Total pages in book: 55
Estimated words: 52447 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 262(@200wpm)___ 210(@250wpm)___ 175(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 52447 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 262(@200wpm)___ 210(@250wpm)___ 175(@300wpm)
His eyes lingered on Kat. “May I have the honor of a dance, Miss White?”
Kat didn’t miss the look Lann gave her, or the unspoken warning in his eyes. She smiled politely. “Thank you, but I promised all my dances to my partner.”
The Ambassador patted Lann on the shoulder. “You’re a lucky man,” he said before walking off.
Ignoring Amelia, Lann took Kat’s glass and left it on the bar. “Since I promised you a dance…”
He pulled her away from Amelia’s stare onto the dance floor for the waltz that had started. Lann was light on his feet, guiding her effortlessly around the room.
“What was that all about?” Kat asked, glancing up at him.
“I’d say the ambassador is smitten with you.” His eyes darkened. “And I’m jealous as hell.”
She gave him a stern look. “I’m talking about Amelia’s comment.”
“The journalist?”
Kat narrowed her eyes. “If she’s a reporter, then yes.”
“She’s got her knife in for me. She wrote a nasty article, and tried to do some character damage.”
“Why would she do that?”
He brushed his hand over her back. “It’s her job.”
“Why did she say that I resembled your mother?”
Lann looked down at her, holding her gaze for a second. “Because it’s true.”
The blood in her veins turned cold. Had Lann sought her out because she looked like his mother? Was this some warped childhood psychology bullshit? She closed her eyes. She didn’t want to know.
As if reading her mind, he lowered his head and whispered in her ear, “I didn’t ask to have sex with you because you look like my dead mother. That would make me a sick fuck.”
Kat shivered when he traced her spine with a finger. “What was the comment about the weather forecast?”
“It’s because of a nickname I don’t particularly care for.”
“What nickname?”
He seemed indecisive as whether to answer her, but after a moment he said, “Weatherman.”
She couldn’t keep the amusement from her voice. “Weatherman?”
“I always get the forecast right. It’s earned me the unfortunate title.”
When she kept staring at him, he shrugged. “What? I’m a pilot. It’s my job to know the weather.”
“Besides being a pilot, what else are you?” She pressed her body against his, a little too tightly, and smiled when he groaned.
“A businessman. Stop grinding against me or I’ll drag you outside and then your beautiful gown will be ruined.”
She chuckled and brushed her thigh against his.
“Katherine, don’t dare me. I’ve never walked away from one.”
Sliding her leg between his, she felt his hardness against her thigh. “What kind of business? Don’t even think about brushing me off again because I’m not giving up this time.”
He cursed. “Property investment. Communications.”
“What kind of communications?”
“Web-based.” He suddenly stopped, causing her to almost lose her balance. He put his arms around her to steady her. “Enough,” he gritted out. “Time to go home.”
“We just got here.”
He fixed her with a stare that told her arguing wasn’t an option. His heated gaze traveled over her body, devouring her with an invisible caress. “Let’s go.”
“Only if we’re going to the den.”
His eyes widened slightly. “Why?”
“Because I want to have you everywhere. I want you to remember me in every part of your home.”
“God, Katherine,” he growled, his fingers pressed against her back, “isn’t it enough that you’re in my head every minute of every day?”
No. Not nearly. She tugged at his hand. “Take me home.”
Inside the monastery, he stripped her in the square. Her dress was lying on the floor before they made it to the hallway. Lann hadn’t joked about ruining her gown. Oh well, she wasn’t planning on wearing it for any other man. It was a one-off kind of dress, for a one-off kind of man. Kat gasped as he backed her up against a door, his palms on her naked breasts and his teeth raking down her neck. She slipped her hands under his jacket, pushing it from his shoulders and letting it fall on the terracotta tiles. When her fingers brushed over his injured skin, he winced.
“Sorry,” she whispered. “We should take it easy.”
He moved his thigh between her legs. “I’m taking it as damn easy as I can.”
He dipped his thumbs into the elastic of her thong. “Prekrasnaya. So pretty.”
As he pushed the scrap of material over her hips, he dragged his lips down her body, kissing the peaks of her breasts, and her stomach. She moaned as the light trail of kisses ended on her wet folds.
“Lift your feet,” he said.
She obeyed so he could free her underwear. He stepped back. His eyes darkened as his gaze travelled over her. Slowly, he undid his bowtie and let it drop to the floor. Unbuttoning his shirt, he advanced again. He didn’t remove the shirt, but just left it hanging off his well-defined abs. She ached to feel him inside her. She needed him like she would never need anyone again.