they stop at a certain name, that person was the one thinking of you.”
“You’d best start naming people, then.”
“Hic!” Anya frowned in exasperation. “Very well. The dowager duchess.”
They waited.
“Hic! No, not her. Elizaveta?”
She held her breath. Three seconds passed. “Hic! Not her either.”
Anya bit her lip. Wolff’s gaze dropped to her mouth and the hungry, sleepy expression reappeared.
She pressed her lips together. “Vasili Petrov?”
His expression darkened. A muscle ticked in the side of his jaw, and something dangerous flared in his eyes. He glared at her as long moments ticked by, almost daring her to make a sound.
“Hic.”
Anya let out a relieved breath, even though it was only a silly game. She didn’t want Vasili thinking of her, ever.
Wolff leaned forward in his chair, and she sucked in an unsteady breath as he continued to stare at her. “Sebastien Wolff,” he prompted softly.
“Sebastien Wolff,” she echoed.
The silence stretched. And held.
Her eyes widened. “It worked! You’re thinking of me! What are you thinking?”
He set down his glass with quiet deliberation. “I’m thinking about kissing you.”
Her pulse was rushing in her ears, desire swirling through her bloodstream. This was a test, a battle of wills to see who would capitulate first. Well, it would not be her. She was thinking about kissing him too.
She placed her empty tumbler carefully on the rug. In the most subservient move of her life, she prowled toward him on hands and knees, like a cat. When she neared his chair, he sat back like a king on his throne, hands resting loosely on the arms, and widened his legs in unmistakable invitation for her to come between them.
Anya stood, holding his gaze, even though her knees trembled. She stepped between his thighs and placed her hands on the back of his chair, one on either side of his head. Her face was inches from his own. She could see the fine grain of his skin, the dark stubble on his jaw, the tiny laugh lines at the corner of his eyes. The scent of him filled her nose, a hint of vodka mixed with a woodsy, masculine fragrance and a tang of leather and horse.
Her stomach swooped in excitement, but she sent him her most superior ice-princess look to remind him who was in charge. “This seems like me kissing you,” she taunted softly.
He lifted his head and pressed his mouth to hers.
His lips were soft, unhurried. Anya closed her eyes and kissed him back, clinging, shaping, exploring the contours of his mouth. Her tongue snaked out and encountered his, and she gasped, then did it again, wanting to taste.
The world fell away and clicked into place at the same time. His tongue darted over and under hers in a way that made her light-headed and his muffled groan was the sweetest sound she’d ever heard. His hands found the curve of her hips. He tugged her closer, then slid them around to her bottom, and Anya squirmed in delight as he squeezed her through the fabric of her breeches.
She was hot, hotter than the fire, melting like an icicle under his hands. Desperate, she grasped his hair in her fists and bent her knees, straddling him in the chair. A jolt of shock rocked her as her core nestled over the solid bulge of his arousal.
She pulled back and stared down at him. Both of them were panting. He stared right back at her, his gaze so open, so direct, she felt the connection all the way down to her soul. He was hard and hot beneath her, indecently close. Only a few layers of cloth separated them. She wanted them gone.
His fingers tightened on her bottom, and he lifted his hips to press himself even closer to the center of her body.
“That’s where I want to be,” he rasped, and his low growl vibrated from his chest into hers. “Right there. Inside you.” His heavy-lidded gaze studied her for a long moment—and then he shook his head with an almost disbelieving sigh. “But not tonight.”
Anya blinked. “What?”
His lips twitched, even though his humor seemed self-directed. “Oh, we will finish this, Miss Brown, I promise you.” He rolled his hips again and a tremor crackled through her body like summer lightning. “But I have rules too.”
“Rules?” she parroted, like an imbecile.
“You’re drunk,” he said softly. “And as tempted as I am, I refuse to take advantage of you in this state.” His dark gaze held hers as he slid her off his lap and pulled