Chapter Ten

Cleo wanted to sink beneath the marbled tiles of the museum floor. It was none other than the gorgeous blond hunk from the bakery. Jesus, he’s huge. There wasn’t anything small on him, and she looked. Up and down. Even wearing the charcoal wool coat, she knew his bigness was all muscle, not fat. It was obvious he commanded respect wherever he went.

Imagine what his arms around you would feel like, her mind taunted.

Biting back a groan, she moved back up to his eyes, which waited for her. She’d been right; they were a very dark brown. Not a tender, comforting brown, not really. They reminded her of the wild. Dangerous and almost wicked; like the rosettes on a jaguar’s coat that grabbed attention and yet, at the same time, kept the animal hidden from view until they wanted to be seen. His gaze dared her to jump in and allow him into her life.

Everything within her cried out to touch him, just to give up and see if the passion she believed she witnessed in the depths of his penetrating look was true. She could imagine Kenya rooting her on, telling her to go for it. Each inhalation Cleo took brought the alluring scent of virile male and the crisp, fresh outdoors. He brought to mind long nights in front of a roaring fire, doing things she’d only read about in books on rugs made of animal skin. With a big sigh, she shoved those thoughts to the back of her mind. Better to get away from tall, strong, and tempting before she listened to the devil inside her.

“Excuse me,” she managed to mutter. With another swallow, she began to inch past him.

“Wait,” he said, his voice deep and seductive.

Goose bumps popped up all over her body, and despite being inside a heated building, she shivered. “For?” she questioned.

Before he could answer, another voice broke in. “Excuse me, the museum is going to be closing in fifteen… Oh, izvinitye, Mr. Andreyevich. I didn’t know it was you, sir.”

Cleo watched as the short man practically drooled over her tall stranger. Great, when’d I start thinkin’ of him as mine? Who the hell are you, Mr. Andreyevich, and why do you get such treatment? Her eyes drifted back to the aristocratic face as she waited for his response.

He flashed a grin at the man. A kind grin, not one that was condescending. “Don’t worry about it, Boris. We’ll lock up afterward. There are a few more exhibits we’d like to see.”

Boris flickered his gaze between them, and Cleo caught his slight smile. “Of course, sir. Have a lovely night.” He nodded at Cleo then walked away without saying another word, or looking back.

Okay, so he gets points for being smooth. Treats people nicely, and damn if staying after closing isn’t tempting. Although, pretty assuming of him.

“Would you care to join me for a tour?” he asked, his gaze dark as he stared down at her.

Cleo fought down another shudder as his intense look warmed her. Suddenly, the image of her and this man totally alone in this huge museum exploded before her. Her knees weakened, breasts tingled, skin prickled, and her breathing accelerated. A pool of moisture gathered between her thighs, and she wanted nothing more than to jump on this man and prove to herself that all the lies her ex had told her were just that. Lies.

“I don’t know you,” she said slowly.

“You will,” he said assuredly.

She arched a brow at his attitude. “Really? And, why do you think I would care to know you?” Arrogant men were nothing new to her, and for some reason, she didn’t want to give him the feeling he could sway her just because he was good looking. Okay, damn good looking.

One shoulder lifted in an easy shrug. He leaned down until they were nose-to-nose. She couldn’t look away from the intensity in those eyes. He had seriously long and thick blond lashes.

“Because of the way you watched me in the bakery.” His voice dropped even lower and reminded her of black velvet being pulled over her skin. “I’ll be a gentleman,” he paused, “for as long as you’d like me to.”

She couldn’t help it. That made her smile. “Okay, Mr. Andreyevich, show me this museum.”

His head moved closer by her ear, and she would have sworn he sniffed her. “Although, I love how you say my last name, please call me Nikolas,” he rumbled into her ear. His deep voice like a big cat purring.

What would it be like to hear him speaking my name with that sexy voice? Gulping, she tried to slow her heart rate. “Nikolas, it is.” She would have sworn he shuddered.

The way his name rolled off her tongue with its sweet southern drawl made each synapse in his body stand at attention. Grateful for the length of his wool pea coat, Nikolas fought the urge to adjust himself as his cock hardened. Damn thing gets any harder, and I’ll be able to sword fight with it. He’d been in a constant state of arousal since he’d first laid eyes on her. It wasn’t as if he hadn’t been around attractive women; he had, plenty. Nevertheless, none had affected him like this spitfire before him.

He knew she was attracted to him. She tried to hide it, but she couldn’t, not completely. Although, her determination to ignore her fascination was amusing. It was as if she didn’t realize there wasn’t a choice in the matter for her. She was not just an answer for his many, many years of an emotionless and lonely existence—she was the answer. Therefore, there was no way in hell he was going to let her go.

His mouth turned up at the corner before he asked, “And your name?”

She flashed him another smile, and his heart melted. He wanted to kiss her so badly. It was amazing how despite the century he was currently in, when faced with the woman he knew was his, he wanted to act like his brother, Marcus, had with Kit. Demanding. Taking what he wanted. And, at the time, he’d thought his brother crazy for letting Katrina to get under his skin as she had, but now…having met this enchanting vixen before him. Nik understood. One hundred percent.

“Cleopatra Laurens.” She held out her hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Nikolas Andreyevich.”

He hesitated for a moment. Something foreign flickered in her eyes, and the serene expression slid from her face as she reacted by retracting her hand.

No!

Nikolas reached forward and grabbed the hand she had offered, grasping it with his larger one. Even with the gloves they both wore, he swore he could feel the heat from her touch, and it was unlike anything he’d experienced before. As if their touch ignited a heat from a universe of its own making.

“Yes, yes, it is,” he said sincerely.

He was reluctant to relinquish his hold on her. However, the second time she tugged on her hand, he did. Pulling his gaze up from her lips to her eyes, he was struck by the myriad of emotions in the dark depths—humor, sadness, amazement, and most definitely, passion.

“Thank you,” she said lightly. “Hard for me to walk when you’re holding my hand.” Her gaze dropped to the floor as she realized what she’d insinuated.

“Guess we’ll have to work on it, then, so it becomes more natural,” he responded lightly, keeping his eyes on her face. It didn’t take long before he was once again looking into her rich gaze.