Destiny's Whisper (31 page)

Aleksei and Jordan watched the brief exchange Dani had shared with Hunter, and cast questioning looks at one another. Their confusion only increased when Hunter gathered up the stack of videotapes he’d left on the chair and inquired where he might find a VCR.

At three o’clock in the morning, Hunter ejected the fourth videotape he’d watched, switched off the VCR and television and collapsed onto the bed. Never in his life would he have believed figure skating could be such a sensual, passionate, emotional expression of life and yet he had to admit, it was looking more and more as if Dani’s words held a note of truth. As much as he hated to make errors, when he did, he acknowledged it, and apologized. It was beginning to look as if he’d been so far off base on this concept that he might as well have been have been trying to hit a home run with a golf club. Never would he have believed that the expressions he’d seen in those pornographic pictures could have been anything other than someone getting their jollys during a great fuck session. The fact it was a child, who was proving his belief wrong, only made matters worse.

She’s not a child
, his mind taunted him quietly, and he had to admit, again, he’d been wrong on that count too. Chronologically she was almost eighteen, and physically she was definitely headed away from the boyish physical characteristics of a child. With beautiful, long legs, that seemed to go forever, a shapely rear end and enough up front to give her a nice silhouette, she hardly looked like a child; and she was old beyond her years. He found himself reacting to her on an equal level and actually enjoying their sparring sessions, even if she did infuriate him. That, in itself, should have scared him senseless, but for some reason, he didn’t care to look into too closely, he found himself feeling calmer, more grounded, around her, even when they were in the midst of a battle of words or wills.

Planning to apologize first thing in the morning, which he acknowledged with a groan, was only a few hours away, he shut off the light and found the room bathed in the gentle glow of moonlight that filtered through the sheer curtains at the window. His exhaustion was overwhelming, each movement draining more of his already depleted energy, yet he struggled to his feet and walked to the window, opening it to feel the gentle breeze that made the curtain dance lightly. Returning to his bed, he slid beneath the cool sheet, the softness of the fabric a gentle caress against his naked skin and closed his eyes as he sought the quiet oblivion of sleep.

Instead, all he found was the vision of Dani, draped in silken veils, her hands reaching for him, her eyes beckoning and mysterious, her soft voice filled with promises of sensual pleasure, and with a muttered oath, punched his pillow to dispel the image.

The gentle songs of the first birds up and about, announcing the new day were just beginning as Hunter finally slipped into an exhausted sleep.

CHAPTER 17 

T
he click of her bedroom door closing had Chloe’s eyes popping open and her mind sluggishly trying to form a coherent thought. The red numbers on the clock indicated it was five thirty–a God awful time of the morning–and it wasn’t time for her to get up yet; she still had another forty-five minutes. With a groan, she pulled the covers up over her head and snuggled back into the warmth.

A moment later, a cool wave of air drifted over her as the covers were lifted and Sergei slipped into her bed, and snuggled up behind her.

Chloe’s fingers traced a light path down the outside of his thigh before his hand caught hers and their fingers laced together. “Your mother’s going to kill us if she catches us,” she whispered drowsily as his mouth began to nibble and kiss a path between her ear and shoulder, the narrow strap of her tank-top lending no protection from the stubble of his beard.

“Then we’ll have to be very quiet so she doesn’t, won’t we?” he teased softly, his voice a deep, sexy purr, his teeth gently raking her sensitive skin and making her body hum.

Chloe rolled on to her back, and looked up into his face, hidden mostly by the shadows of early morning. His eyes glowed with a wicked sexiness in the semi-darkness. “Mr. Rocmanov, is your mother aware you sneak into lady’s beds at the crack of dawn?”

Chloe asked breathlessly, her back arching as Sergei’s lips traced a path over her upper chest.

“My mother believes me to be an angel, and nothing, or no one, could convince her otherwise,” he replied quietly, taking another nip at her neck, a deep chuckle escaping his chest as she gasped in pleasure.

“Your mother knows you for the wicked man you are. You’re just like your father; she told me so,” Chloe’s statement ended on a long moan.

“My mother adores my father.”

“I know; your parents are very lucky to have each other. I can only hope someday, someone will love and adore me as much as your father does your mother,” Chloe whispered wistfully.

Sergei’s hands held her face gently; his gaze captured hers. “Too late; I already do. Now you’re stuck with me forever!” he said softly, his voice a husky whisper. His lips met her own; a mere whisper of flesh against flesh, yet the electricity that jumped between them could have come from a kiss as carnal as sin.

Chloe forced herself to pull away from Sergei’s searching mouth; a sigh of regret escaping as their lips parted. “You shouldn’t be here, it’s crazy. Not twenty feet away is an attorney who’s trying to keep you from going to jail on charges of rape and here you are, big as life, in my bed. Tell me something isn’t just a little
off
with this picture?”

“First off; there has been no rape, so I’m not going to waste my energy worrying about something that hasn’t even occurred,” Sergei stated.

“You know that and I know that and your family believes you’re innocent, but I don’t know about Dani’s barracuda. Have you seen the way he watches us? It’s as if he’s waiting for us to slip up or something?”

“That’s what barracudas do; they sit back and wait for you to screw up and then they pounce,” Sergei answered.

“But we haven’t done anything wrong.”

“No we haven’t, and I want you to remember that. Regardless of anything Andrew says or insinuates, you have done nothing to be ashamed of or anything wrong. Period.” Sergei stated deeply.

Chloe nodded gently in agreement. “Do you think this will go on much longer?” Chloe asked softly.

Sergei’s light shrug caused their skin to brush, “Hunter’s one of the best attorneys in the country, according to Dad and Uncle Marcus. I would think he should be able to give us a better idea about things after we talk with him today.”

“I wish this was all over–or better still–had never happened,” Chloe murmured, trying to keep her fears at bay even as tears turned her blue eyes into a shimmering lake.

“It’ll be over soon, baby, I promise,” Sergei vowed, kissing away the tears that traced silvery paths over her pale cheeks.

Chloe turned her face to capture Sergei’s mouth, more than a little desperate to make the world disappear, even if only for a little while. Her hands slid into his hair, held his head, while her mouth plundered his, her tongue mating hotly with his as he rolled over her and settled between her welcoming thighs. “Make love to me, Sergei. If we’re going to be blamed for doing something, shouldn’t we get to do it at least once?” Chloe pleaded, pushing her hips against his, feeling his reaction to her squirming as he swelled against her hotly, and found joy in knowing she had the power to make him want her.

“Chloe, there is nothing I want more in this world than to feel myself deep inside you; wrapped around me,” Sergei growled, trying to control the nearly overwhelming urge to do as she asked and bury himself deep in her heat. It would be so easy to simply throw caution to the wind and take a moment for just the two of them–to hell with the Manning’s, the attorneys and anyone else who said they were wrong. But a small, rational corner in his mind held him back; their time would come, but it wasn’t to be now.

With a muffled groan, Sergei pulled Chloe’s searching hands away from his body and held them over her head, cushioned against the pillows. The first rays of the morning’s sunlight streaked across the bed and cast a rosy glow over Chloe’s face; making her eyes glow brightly as she looked up at Sergei, her eyes filled with love and need and fear. “Chloe, I should leave, right this minute, before I do something I shouldn’t.”

“No, Sergei, please don’t go. Just sit here and hold my hand; that’s all.”

Sergei’s low moan rumbled through his body, the gentle vibration another small torture as her body pushed against his in answer. “It would be impossible for me do just sit here and hold your hand, when my body screams to feel you naked against me.”

“Then, just this time, listen to your body, and, for a little while, make the world disappear,” Chloe pleaded.

Chloe’s quiet words and shining eyes were his downfall, and Sergei’s mouth crushed down on hers, his tongue ravishing the warmth of her mouth, stealing her breath away. His body rocked against her own, striking sparks to flames and he felt himself grow harder and fuller against the warmth of her womanhood. Chloe’s hands slipped from his grasp, sharp nails running a path down his back and beneath the soft cotton of his boxers, to grip his muscular bottom and pull him more firmly against her seeking hips.

Fire flamed through Sergei, his heart pounded in his ears, his breath nothing but a ragged gasp as he pulled his mouth from hers and spread ravishing kisses and not-so-gentle nips along the cord of her neck. Chloe’s hands shifted as she began to seek the heat and strength of his erection and he caught her hands, again pulling them over her head and holding them securely, in one hand, even as they wiggled to escape. His free hand pushed the scrap of fabric that passed for her tank top upward, exposing her firm breasts and erect nipples, and with a deep moan of appreciation, his mouth closed over one of the pert nipples and suckled deeply.

Chloe’s eyes rolled back in her head, her breath vanished and she felt herself perched on the edge of a cliff, looking over a raging sea and wanted to feel that power surrounding her. “Sergei…” she pleaded, pushing hard against the pulsing power that throbbed against her center.

Sergei’s mouth left her breast, moving heatedly up her chest and along her neck, his teeth and rough beard leaving their mark as he again ravished her mouth, his tongue a heated spear that mimicked the motion his hips made against her clothed core. He felt the tension building in her body, felt the light shivers that left her trembling grow stronger. He pulled his mouth from hers, and watched as her eyes fluttered open, a glazed deep blue. The words he spoke were filled with passion, blatantly erotic and enticing and evoked such visual images, they were both caught up in the storm of passion he created.

Sergei’s tenuous hold on his control was slipping, his body demanding release even as he pushed Chloe ever closer toward ecstasy. Their bodies were an inferno out of control; growing ever stronger as they pushed closer to the pinnacle they sought.

“Sergei…” Chloe gasped, her voice hoarse, her eyes filled with mindless passion.

“Chloe, look at me,” Sergei demanded, his voice deep, and husky and filled with power.

Her eyes shifted to his, deep blue and the blackest of ebony blending, holding and his mouth lowered slowly toward hers, their gazes never breaking. His mouth mated with hers, as his hand slipped between their bodies and gave her the release she so desperately sought, his mouth absorbing the low scream of pleasure that escaped, his body following her lead as he, too, found sweet oblivion in the arms of the woman he loved.

Whittaker glanced at his watch–again–and frowned. “The morning’s half gone. Where the hell is that attorney who’s supposed to be taking dispositions from Sergei and Chloe this morning?” he growled. Grunting what passed for a
thanks
as Jordan slid a hot cup of coffee his way, she slapped his hand away as he tried to steal a donut, mid-air, from the plate she was attempting to place in the center of the table.

“Frank, it’s all of seven-fifteen. I don’t think that qualifies as ‘half the morning’ yet! And it’s ‘depositions’ he’s going to be taking,” Jordan stated with a smile, accepting a kiss on her cheek from Sergei as he entered the room, taking in his still-wet hair, one hand brushing over his unshaven chin. “Out of razor blades?” she quipped.

Sergei’s non-committal grunt had her shaking her head in bemusement. Where had her smooth-faced baby boy gone and who was this gorgeous young man who was wearing a look like some fat cat that had just stolen a bowl of cream?

When Chloe entered the kitchen five minutes later, wearing a high-necked turtleneck shirt and sporting a shy smile, flushed cheeks and what looked suspiciously like razor burn on the underside of her chin, Jordan understood Sergei’s smug smile and cast the two a decidedly censorious look.

Sergei shrugged, trying to maintain a look of innocence and failed miserably when Chloe’s attempts to pull her collar higher drew Whittaker’s attention. “Chloe, what did you get into; your neck’s all red?”

Sergei’s snort of laughter echoed in the large room, and simply grew louder as Chloe sent him a warning glare in an attempt to silence him. Sergei simply blew her a kiss and proceeded to drink down his glass of orange juice, and then started on the breakfast his mother slipped before him, after a quick, “Thanks, Mom.”

“I tried a new exfoliating cream; I think it’s a little too harsh for my skin,” Chloe stammered.

Chloe’s breakfast plate was slipped before her, and saying her own “Thank you.” Chloe’s eyes met Jordan’s, and she saw in them understanding and humor and found herself relaxing as Jordan stated quietly, “I have something that will help soothe that rash.”

“Thanks,” Chloe answered simply, casting Sergei a questioning look and receiving a soft smile and jaunty wink in return.

“It looks as if someone took a scrub brush to your neck. That’s why I never use any of that garbage they’re always trying to sell you. You know, I heard on the news that Americans spend literally billions of dollars in stuff just for your face! Can you believe that? And look what that stuff can do to you?” Whittaker complained, pointing toward Chloe’s ‘rash’. “No thanks. I’ll stick to baby soap and plain old water,” Whittaker finished with a solid nod.

“Baby soap and water?” Sergei asked in disbelief.

“He has very sensitive skin,” Jordan explained seriously, her wide smile suggesting otherwise as she slid a plate of scrambled eggs and bacon in front of Whittaker.

Whittaker looked at the scrambled eggs, a small frown creasing his forehead. “I thought I asked for eggs over easy,” he grumbled.

“You did, but they didn’t go over easy and now they’re scrambled.” Jordan explained, emphasizing her point with the spatula in her hand, one eyebrow raised in warning, her look daring him to say another word.

“I was just asking. No need to get your knickers in a twist,” he mumbled, taking a bite of the fluffy eggs.

“Who’s already got their knickers in a twist? It’s only seven-thirty in the morning, for heaven’s sake,” Dani grumbled as she limped her way into the kitchen, exchanged a hug and kiss from her mother, and sat down next to Whittaker. A quick look at his plate had her brow crinkling in question. “Today’s Thursday, isn’t it? Don’t you usually have eggs over easy on Thursdays?”

Laughter again echoed throughout the kitchen and had Dani’s expression growing even more confused, as she looked from person to person as Whittaker complained about the impertinence of today’s youth and how the world was going to hell in a handcart.

Shaking her head in bafflement, Dani’s attention was suddenly drawn to Chloe’s white shirt and the bright red skin above it. A quick glance at Sergei’s unshaven face had her putting two and two together and in a voice filled with nonchalance, casually stated, “Nice razor burn, Chloe. Mom’s got something that’ll clear that right up!”

Sergei choked on his toast, Chloe blushed from her the bottom of her toes to the top of her head and Whittaker nearly broke his neck as he shifted his gaze, back and forth, over and over again, from Sergei to Chloe. “God dammit, Rocmanov. What will it take to get you to keep your hands off the girl? Your father told me he wanted me with you all the time, but dammit it all, that doesn’t mean I’m going to sleep with you!” Whittaker bellowed; casting chastising looks at both parties.