Vladimir (Russian Dragon Heat #1) - Carole Mortimer Page 0,23

gaze met Vladimir’s much darker one. “I don’t think so.”

Vladimir had been watching the emotions flickering across Tanya’s expressive face. Initially shock. Followed by what had looked to be a fading back into unpleasant memories. Then a return to here and now, and the realization it was Vladimir who had said he was going to spank her.

The first was understandable, the second Vladimir hated with a passion, but it was the third reaction which most interested him. Because for a few brief seconds, Tanya had looked almost curious, before she firmly shut that emotion down.

After three months of denying himself sight or sound of this woman, his mate, then the past eight hours of being near Tanya and yet still so far away in all the ways that mattered, Vladimir was beyond all patience in his need to touch her even if he couldn’t mate her yet. He would have her agreement to that before taking such a drastic step for both of them. He refused to spend the rest of their immortal lives together with Tanya harboring that resentment toward him.

But that didn’t mean he couldn’t enjoy caressing and tasting her in the meantime. All of her.

Starting with the delectable curve of her bottom outlined so temptingly in fitted denim. “Remove your coat and socks,” he repeated in an even voice. “They need to come off anyway, they are so wet.”

Claim.

Mate.

All in good time, Vladimir soothed his dragon’s hunger. For now, we have to gain Tanya’s trust, and then hopefully her affection.

You hope for us to gain her trust when you intend to spank her?

Vladimir held back his smile at his dragon’s skepticism, knowing Tanya wouldn’t appreciate or understand their shared humor at her expense.

Yes, he answered his dragon. Because even a spanking, if it has been threatened, should be carried out.

His dragon continued to mutter and mumble but made no clear further vocal objection.

One of Vladimir’s eyebrows now arched questioningly as he continued to look at the unmoving Tanya. “Or perhaps you would like me to do it for you?” He allowed his razor-sharp talons to pierce the ends of his fingers.

The way Tanya took another step back—as if that could save her from him!—was proof enough she didn’t like the idea of him slicing her clothes from her body.

“Choose, Tanya,” he invited. “Or, be assured, I will make the decision for you.”

She remained stubbornly unmoving. “I accept my clothes need to come off and be dried, but I’ll have nothing to wear if you ruin them.”

“I am sure we will find something else in one of the rooms upstairs.”

“If they belong to you or any of your brothers, then they’ll be far too big—stop that!” She slapped ineffectually at Vladimir as his talons raked down the front of her clothing.

The sweater fell open to reveal the two sides of her cut bra were still cupping her breasts. Her jeans were sliced down both legs so that the denim material simply fell away. Only the black lace panties beneath remained intact.

The cut of Vladimir’s talons had been so precise that not a single blemish showed on the silky smoothness of Tanya’s flesh.

Nevertheless, she made an incongruous figure in her open jacket as she tried to hold together the two sides of her sliced jumper and bra. She now wore only the lace panties and her socks beneath.

“You bastard!” She launched herself at him, clenched fists pummeling against the hardness of his chest.

Unfortunately for Tanya, those fierce movements dislodged the separated cups of her bra, leaving her breasts fully bared and on display. They were firm and uptilting, with nipples colored a delicious dark rose. Those nipples were also fully engorged, appearing like two large and ripe raspberries which Vladimir wished to feast on as he held Tanya’s arms up and away from pummeling him.

She stilled when she became aware of how his gaze was fixated on the proud thrust of her naked breasts. “Don’t,” she pleaded in a broken voice.

Vladimir searched her face, looking for any sign of disgust or revulsion toward the lust and hunger she must see in his own expression. Instead, her eyes were pleading, her cheeks flushed. Not with anger, but the arousal Vladimir could also detect in her changed scent. It was no longer flowers and spring rain, but instead his dragon senses breathed in the heady musk of cinnamon and the sharpness of ginger.

Those betraying scents of her arousal told Vladimir, despite what Tanya might plead to the contrary, that she wanted