Black Knight, White Queen (2 page)

“Getting soaked to the skin is enjoyable?” He sounded genuinely puzzled.

“Yeah, it is. You should try it sometime.” She let the material fall, then grinned at him. “Though saying that, looks like you already have.”

His clothes were soaking now too, his T-shirt clinging to powerful shoulders, revealing a sharply defined chest and abdomen.

Her fingers itched to touch.

She’d promised herself the moment she’d left New Zealand that this trip would be all about her. That she’d deny herself nothing. But up until this point, it hadn’t included sex. Not for lack of offers. Just lack of offers from guys she found hot.

But this guy wasn’t just hot. This guy was dark, intimidating, dangerous and utterly compelling.

He frowned, looking down at himself. “Yes. So it seems.” Then he looked at her again.

The colour of his eyes was startling in his tanned face. Crystalline gray, framed by thick, black lashes. He looked at her with such focus it was as if nothing else existed for him but her.

Her throat went dry. Her heartbeat accelerated, loud in her ears.

The rain continued to fall but Izzy wasn’t cold. No, she was hot. She was burning up.

Because of him. Because of the way he looked at her. Making her feel, for the first time since Angie had died, as if she actually existed.

“Dude, are you going to pick me up?” she said huskily. “Because I’m telling you now, your chances of success are extremely high.”

Chapter Two

Aleks always knew what was going to happen. Could always see ten steps ahead. And yet he hadn’t counted on this. Hadn’t counted on her or his response to her.

He took a step toward her, drawn to her, unable to help himself. Her gaze held him fast, the look on her vivid face hungry. It was like she held a flame inside her, hot and burning, lighting her up from the inside out, and he wanted a piece of that flame, wanted to warm himself by it. Grab a moment of heat. A moment to forget this tight feeling inside his chest. Some measure of human closeness the only way he could let himself.

Her breathing hitched and he saw the tension in her posture. A slight tremble. A vibration like a tuning fork being struck.

“You’re shaking,” he said. “Are you afraid?”

“What? Oh, you mean this?” She lifted her hand a little, and they both watched the shake in it. She gave a soft laugh. “No, not afraid. Well, not exactly. More like nervous. I’ve never felt anything like this with a stranger before.”

Her honesty gave her a vulnerability he hadn’t anticipated. “Nothing needs to happen. You don’t have to do anything you don’t want.” He didn’t want to frighten her. He’d been on the receiving end of unwanted advances enough when he’d been living on the streets of Moscow, before he’d won enough money hustling in the chess park to get himself to the States. He knew what it felt like, and it wasn’t anything he’d push on anyone else.

“I know I don’t.” With a slow movement, she pushed away from the railing, water dripping off her hair, down her arms, off the silver bracelets she wore on one wrist. The singlet stuck to her body, outlining every contour of her small, round breasts.

He watched as she came closer. Not wanting to move in case it somehow ruined this moment, frightened her off. She stopped right in front of him and even through the fine mist of rain he could feel the heat from her body. She lifted a hand and pressed her palm against the wet cotton of his T-shirt, over his heart. It felt like a hot coal.

“Wow,” she murmured. “You’re so warm.”

He didn’t move, didn’t speak. For a second he was even completely unable to think, something that should have bothered him but didn’t. Because it seemed as if there wasn’t anything more important right now than the feel of her hand on his chest. Or the scent of her, like rain-soaked roses, that wrapped itself around him.

She tilted her head back, looked up into his eyes. A small, playful smile curved her mouth, making the tight feeling in his chest get even tighter. “You’re really quite something you know that? What’s your name?”

He tried to take a breath. Her hand on his chest felt like it burned right through the cotton of his T-shirt, burned his skin. “Is that important?”

“To me it is. And that way, we won’t be strangers.”

“Aleksandr Shastin.”

Her smile deepened. “Pleased to meet you, Aleksandr Shastin. Or can I call you Aleks?”

They called him that in the States because it was easier, quicker. It used to bother him but not these days. Back in Moscow it had been different. Viktor had called him Sasha.

But no, he wasn’t going to think of Viktor.

“Yes,” he said to her. “Aleks is fine.”

“Cool. I’m Izzy Cornwall.”

“Izzy.” Her name sounded strange on his tongue.

“Yes,” she said softly, that secret smile still playing about her mouth. “That’s me. It’s short for Iseult. I know, crazy name. I blame my mother.” Her thumb moved, stroking over him in an absent movement. “So, Aleks, where exactly do we go from here? Grab a drink from the bar?”

He looked down into her face, into her startling blue eyes. He’d never been impatient before, would always wait and study the board first before he made a move. But now he was impatient. Now he couldn’t wait. So he broke his second rule. “I have a room downstairs. We can go there. Now.”

Her breath caught. A flush had risen to her high cheekbones, delicate, just like the rest of her. “Whoa. Fast worker, aren’t you?”

Nervous, yes, definitely nervous. In that case perhaps it was time he took charge of the situation. That way there could be no misunderstandings. She needed to know exactly what he wanted and make her own decision accordingly.

He wrapped his fingers around her wrist, her skin slippery with rain, and soft and warm. A touch was allowed surely since she’d touched him. A touch but nothing more, not yet. Control was everything, as Viktor had always taught him.

Her eyes widened as he held her, but she made no move to pull away.

“I don’t want to have a drink at the bar. What I want is to have sex with you. Do you understand?”

She blinked. “Oh yeah. I understand.”

“And is that what you want too? If not, you can walk away. I won’t force you into anything.”

At the base of her throat he could see her pulse beating. Fast. He wanted to put his fingers on it, stroke it. Lick the rain off her skin. Taste the heat he sensed in her. Take a little bit of it for himself. But not yet. Control. That’s what was important. That’s what his whole life was about.

“I want it.” Her voice sounded breathless, her chest rising and falling fast in time with her breathing.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.” Her gaze met his. “I trust you.”

The words shocked him. Such a strange thing to say to someone she’d only just met. Especially to him, a rootless Russian chess player with no identity and no soul. “Why?” he asked bluntly. “You don’t know me.”

“I…” She broke off, her colour rising. “Actually, I have no idea why. Just a gut feeling.”

“Feelings are not the best things to base decisions on.”

“Uh huh. Well, I hate to disagree with you, but my gut feelings are seldom wrong.” She arched a pale brow. “Or are you trying to talk me out of it now?”

“No. I just want you to be sure.”

Her gaze held his, and he could see the certainty there. “I’m sure.”

No one had ever said that to him before. No one had ever told him they trusted him. Not even the few friends he had. It made him want to be equal to it.

He let go of her wrist and gently touched her cheek, the silk of her skin warm beneath his fingertips. “I won’t hurt you, Izzy.”

It was important she know that. Oh, he’d hurt other people, when he’d lived on the streets. Hurt men who’d wanted things from him he didn’t want to give. At least until he’d learned to avoid them by hanging out in the park, watching the chess games. But never women. Not after what had happened to the girls he’d been on the streets with. Their lives had turned out far worse than his had ever been. If they’d survived at all.

Izzy smiled. “I never thought you would.”

Izzy stood at the back of the elevator, her whole body alight. The wet press of her clothes against her hot skin made her shiver. No, that wasn’t strictly true. It wasn’t the dampness of her clothes that made her shiver. It was him.

She turned her head.

Aleks leaned against the railing that ran around the inside of the elevator, watching her with such intensity it made her ache.

For six months she’d felt invisible. Her mother seeing through her, searching for her dead daughter while ignoring the one still alive and standing right in front of her. Her father looking away because Angie was all he saw when he looked at her.

But she didn’t feel invisible now. Or forgotten about. Or non-existent.

Aleks looked at her. He was seeing her. Making her real.

The way he stood looked casual, but she could feel the energy that hummed through him. The tension between them drew so tight she could hardly breathe.

Perhaps this was crazy. Perhaps she was mad. Going down to some complete stranger’s room for sex. She’d never done a one-night stand before—a purely physical connection had never appealed to her. Yet this was different. He was different. She didn’t know why, but the connection between them felt more than physical. Deeper somehow.

She mirrored his stance, leaning back against the railing too, taking a silent breath to calm her racing pulse. “So Aleks, where are you from? The States?”

“Most of the time.”

“Your accent though. It sounds kind of Russian.”

“I was born there.”

“So…uh…what brought you to the States?”

“I didn’t particularly want to live in Russia.” He didn’t add anything else.

Okay so he wasn’t much for sharing, was he? “Oh, well. I’m from New Zealand. Auckland actually. It’s really nice.” Shit, she was babbling like an idiot. “Cooler than here though. We get a lot of that tropical kind of rain but not—”

The words died in her throat as he suddenly pushed away from the wall and walked over to her. The railing pressed hard against her back as he put his hands flat to the wall on either side of her head, silver eyes looking down into hers. So close she could smell the rain on his skin plus a darker, spicy scent, perhaps aftershave. Close enough to feel the heat of his body.

“You’re still nervous,” he said softly. “Don’t be.”

She swallowed. “I’m trying not to.”

“What would help?”

“I don’t know…”

“What about if I took control of the situation here? That way you don’t have to think. You don’t have to do anything but what I tell you to do.”

As soon as he said it, a weird relief filled her, a weight she hadn’t known was there lifting from her shoulders. Because not thinking was exactly what she’d wanted. The whole reason for her Thailand trip. Oh, not the sex part exactly, but the need to escape from her head for a while. To put the anguish and guilt of Angie’s suicide behind her and take a break from the pain. From her parents’ suffocating grief. From the endless analysis of ‘what ifs’ and ‘why didn’t I do thats’.

To have some experiences that weren’t tainted by grief.

She looked up at him. “Yeah, I can do that.”

“Okay, so I’m in control now. You can stop talking.”

Izzy relaxed against the wall, all her nervousness draining away. “Tell me what to do then.”

“Lift your chin.”

She obeyed, tilting her head back.

Then his mouth was on hers and the last of her nervousness vanished utterly.

A groan escaped her as every cell burst into flame, the feel of his lips on hers sending liquid heat spiralling through her veins. His tongue brushed her lower lip, tasting her, and she shuddered helplessly, opening her mouth to him, answering his demand with her own, the world narrowing to the feel of his mouth on hers, the hot lick of his tongue, the seductive heat of his body.

Her hands rose, responding to an urge so powerful she couldn’t stop herself, pressing against the hard wall of his chest then sliding up to the strong width of his shoulders. Farther, winding around his neck, fingers sliding into the damp, black thickness of his hair. Her body arched helplessly into his, desperate and aching for something she hadn’t known she’d wanted until now.

The lift pinged and abruptly Aleks lifted his head, leaving her shaking. Shaking with heat and want. Shaking so badly she never thought she’d stop.

She felt dizzy. Feverish. Drunk on desire. The taste of him.

“Is that better?” he asked.

“Yes,” she croaked. “Shit yes.”

He didn’t smile but the tension around his mouth eased. “Last chance to change your mind.”

She appreciated the offer, but she wasn’t going to take it. Not now. Not after that kiss.

“Are you kidding me? There’s no way I’m changing my mind.”

“Good.” He straightened as the doors slid open. “Then follow me.”

Chapter Three

His heartbeat roared in his ears. As he walked down the hall, Aleks could still feel the imprint of her mouth beneath his. Still feel the heat of it. She’d lodged inside him like a thorn, and now his body ached for her. Burned. The taste of her mouth. The feel of her warm, wet skin. The husky sound she’d made as he’d kissed her.