breasts, her thighs. She felt the rough satin of his tongue slide across her throat, felt his whole body quiver as he drew her up against him, letting her feel the proof of his desire. She ached deep, deep inside, ached with the need to hold him within the deepest part of her being.
Two weeks and three days... how would she ever wait that long?
New Year's Eve was cool and clear. Marisa stood in front of the mirror, trying to see herself as Grigori would see her.
The dress's teal blue made her eyes seem darker, deeper. The silk clung to her figure, outlining every curve, baring her shoulders and a good bit of cleavage.
A thrill of anticipation rose up within her as she heard the front door open. He was here!
She saw his reflection in the mirror as he entered her bedroom. Their gazes met and held, and she saw the admiration in his eyes, the love, the desire.
"Like it?" she asked.
He let out a long, low whistle. "Like is hardly the word."
She was a vision, an angel fallen to earth, a seductress come to play havoc with his self-control. Her hair framed her face like a dark silken cloud. Her green eyes were luminous, her skin the color of ripe peaches. His gaze moved over her softly rounded shoulders, over her breasts, the curve of her hips, down her long, shapely legs.
He swore under his breath as he felt the Hunger rise with his desire.
"You look very pretty, too," Marisa said, smiling.
"Pretty?"
She nodded. He wore a black suit that had obviously been tailored just for him, a white shirt, a tie of maroon silk.
"Wow," she murmured. "Wow. I'll have to beat the other women off with a stick."
"Indeed?" One corner of his mouth went up in a wry smile. "And I shall have to keep you close to my side lest some other man try to steal you away."
"That will never happen. I'm gonna stick to your side like glue." She smiled up at him, and reached for her coat. "Ready?"
The Salazars lived in what could only be called a mansion. Marisa was certain her whole apartment building, including the yard and the parking area, could fit inside. The rooms were luxuriously decorated, from the plush cream-colored carpets to the vaulted ceilings. Expensive paintings hung from the walls; there were glass shelves filled with costly crystal figurines and imported china.
A maid took Marisa's coat. Mrs. Salazar came forward to greet her, and after Marisa introduced Grigori, Mrs. Salazar gave Marisa a hug and told them to make themselves at home.
"This is quite a place, don't you think?"
"Indeed." Grigori glanced around, taking note of a painting on one wall. Either it was an original Picasso, or an extremely good copy.
"Look, there's Linda and her husband. Come on," Marisa said, grabbing his hand, "I want to introduce you."
Linda Hauf was a tall, slender woman with curly blond hair and bright blue eyes. Her husband, Jim, was in real estate.
Grigori murmured that he was pleased to meet her, shook her husband's hand, engaged in a few moments of mindless small talk with the man while Marisa asked Linda to be her bridesmaid.
"Married!" Linda exclaimed. "Did you hear that, Jim? They're getting married." She looked at Grigori, as if judging his worthiness to marry her friend, and then gave Marisa a hug. "When did all this happen? Why didn't you tell me sooner?"
Jim Hauf rolled his eyes. "Come on, Chiavari, let's go get a drink," he suggested. "All this wedding talk could take hours."
With a shrug, Grigori followed the man to the wet bar. He ordered a glass of burgundy, then stood nursing his drink, listening as the man started talking about the upcoming Rose Bowl. Grigori nodded from time to time, but his attention was on Marisa. Soft candlelight caressed her face and shimmered in her hair. He watched her laugh, noting the way her eyes sparkled, the way she tossed her head, the way her hair floated around her shoulders. Even from across the room, he could smell the flowery scent of her perfume, the warm, womanly scent of her skin.
Once she looked over at him, her gaze catching his, and he felt such a rush of desire it almost brought him to his knees. In little more than two weeks, she would be his.
Dinner was served twenty minutes later. Opulent was the only word for the dining room. Crystal and translucent china and gleaming gold flatware reflected the light from