Instinctive Male (14 page)

In the night, she heard Mikhail chuckle as she moved over him, taking what she wanted, taking his lips, tasting him, becoming one again.

In the dawn, she awoke to Mikhail sliding from her arms and legs; he padded to the bathroom and when she heard the shower running, Ellie held his pillow tight, caught his scent and slid back into sleep. When she awoke the second time, Mikhail was lying beside her, toying with her hair, the earrings.

“Breakfast?” He had shaved, and the laughter in his expression caused her to smile.

She could have loved him again, if she could move. “You know I want you, not food.”

His kiss was brief, playful. “I know. I am sexy. You want me. You adore me,” he drawled.

The statement was so unlike Mikhail that she had to laugh, and then Mikhail was studying her. He turned her cheek and frowned at her throat. “I was afraid of that—I didn’t take time to shave last night. You’re scratched here.” His finger explored her throat.

“Kiss it and make it well,” she challenged, feeling very certain of herself.

But Mikhail had his own agenda. He eased the blankets away from her body, studying the length as his hand moved over her, his expression dark and intent. “You gave yourself to me.”

“Correction—You gave yourself to me, several times.” Still shy of Mikhail, Ellie fought drawing up the blankets to shield herself.

Mikhail smiled gently. “Nervous?”

“You’re very intense.”

Mikhail touched her breasts, a fingertip playing with her nipple until she pressed his hand close with hers. “Come here,” she ordered breathlessly, reaching for him.

When Mikhail grinned, a devastating flash of white teeth against his tanned skin, Ellie decided to tease him. “Or we could have that breakfast.”

Mikhail reacted just as she wanted. “Breakfast can wait.”

Later, they sat on the porch—Ellie on Mikhail’s lap—watching the morning come to life—seagulls swooping to strut on the beach, sandpipers scurrying, old Boyd Jones out with his bucket, picking up clutter that had been left by irresponsible picnickers, Mario Ferguson jogging with his earphones.

“I needed this,” Ellie said as Mikhail tucked a blanket closer around her. “It’s been so long since I relaxed that I feel like I’m coming apart.”

He kissed her forehead and, beneath the blanket, caressed her breasts, clothed only in his T-shirt and his leather jacket. “You come apart beautifully.”

“Mmm.” She snuggled against him, resting her head on his chest. She couldn’t resist wiggling her hips against him, and through the denim layers between them found him responding, hardening once more.

“Let’s make a day of it, shall we?” Mikhail asked as he toyed with her earring, blowing gently into her ear. “Take some time off?”

“Can’t. I’ve got a meeting with ten wedding planners this morning.”

His disapproving growl was long and low and hungry as he nuzzled her throat.

Ellie couldn’t help laughing as he nuzzled that spot behind her ear and growled. Mikhail in a playful mood wasn’t to be missed. “I just rescheduled,” she told him, and this time his growl was one of sheer agreement.

E
llie smiled as she hurried up the steps of the small cabin and flicked the wind chimes Bliss had made from spoons; they spun and tinkled in the first of April sunlight. She balanced the grocery sack in one arm as she opened the door, and when it closed behind her, she placed the sack on the table and removed her light jacket.

It was such a good place, just for her and Mikhail.
Ellie stroked Mikhail’s flannel shirt hung by the door, drawing it to her face, inhaling his scent. In the shadowy silence she heard his chuckle again as he tickled her on their bed. Yes, it was a very good place.

With one touch, the big Stepanov rocking chair that Mikhail had brought to the cabin creaked gently, moving back and forth. He’d said that Tanya was not too big to be cuddled and rocked, and with a boyish grin added that he wanted to rock Ellie, too.

She’d lived in penthouses and mansions and rented rooms, but if ever she’d had a first home filled with love
and safety, this small cabin was it. She’d tried to give those things to Tanya, and yet it was the first time anyone had given them to her. A sense of homecoming warmth surrounded her immediately. Tonight, she would cook dinner for Mikhail—a gesture that was a little old-fashioned for the Ellie Lathrop she’d always been, to serve a man, to tend him.

She smoothed the earrings he had given her. In the past week, each time he saw her wearing them, his expression softened, and a riveting sense of being fresh and new and desired washed over her.

At work, he was all business, but when walking along the pier, holding her hand, Mikhail might smile down at her and then bend for a light, friendly kiss—or he might tug her into a shadowy spot, flatten her against a wall with his body, and then he was her lover, as eager for her as she was for him. On the beach, he was a boy again, teasing her, chasing her, and she was the girl she’d never been, laughing and carefree….

Hurrying to start the spaghetti sauce, Ellie placed Mikhail’s old flannel shirt over her blouse and jeans, not only for protection while she cooked, but also because she loved having this token of him near. While the sauce simmered, she swept and cleaned and wished for Mikhail as she showered.

Dressed only in his shirt and her jeans, she dived onto the bed she had shared for two nights with Mikhail. Ellie drew his pillow close to her, nuzzling it and remembering how he had taken one look at her in the bikini she was trying on—okay, she just couldn’t resist putting a raincoat over it and hunting him down—just to see his reaction.

When they were alone in the Amoteh’s hallway, Mikhail—still distracted by the flurry of women planning a “Boost Your Sexuality” retreat—had frowned down at her. “Women,” he had brooded. “I am not going to lecture to them on what a man likes. Or—”

He had been too perfect—unmussed and businesslike
and unlike the man she’d watched shave, and she couldn’t resist. “Oh, Mikie…”

He had blinked and looked stunned as she had flashed him, opening her coat.

If she’d been timing his reaction, it might have taken a heartbeat for Mikhail to reach around her, lift her off her feet and, holding her eyes, walk her into a linen closet, which he locked behind him.

“You’re going to drive me crazy,” he’d said roughly as he pulled the tiny string bow between her breasts.

“Likewise,” she had said, arching up into his kiss.

In the shadows, filled with the scent of fresh laundry, Mikhail had grinned and then set about giving her what she wanted.

In the Amoteh’s kitchen later, their hands had touched when reaching for a glass and Mikhail had caught hers, bringing her palm to his lips in that tender, humble gesture she adored—but then, she adored the man.

Days and nights of loving Mikhail had made her a little dizzy with happiness. She knew the passion that ran beneath that cool exterior, knew how his body felt against hers, trembling with desire. She knew the dipping curve of his muscular butt, how it felt in her hands, that very cute butt. She knew how his heart beat against hers, how hot his blood pulsed in passion. She knew his tenderness and the peace in his silence.

Was she wrong for wanting a momentary escape, for seeking her own pleasure and happiness, for glimpsing what could be perfect?

Meanwhile Tanya was safe at Mary Jo’s family ranch, ecstatic that she would be caring for her own pony and riding it, and feeding chickens and calves.

Ellie frowned slightly as the wind chimes tinkled outside; she almost felt guilty for snatching the happiness Mikhail brought her. She rose to stir the spaghetti sauce, locked in her thoughts. Her momentary peace with Mikhail wouldn’t
last—Paul hadn’t made his move yet, but he would as surely as the tide washed over the shoreline.

Paul.
From experience, she knew that he didn’t make empty threats, and that he took his time preparing to demolish anyone who he felt had crossed him—and that would be Mikhail.

Hillary.
The younger sister who, lacking male affection at an early age, set about gathering men’s attention with her woman’s body. “She’s still my little sister and I love her,” Ellie whispered to the shadows.

Outside, Mikhail’s surprised shout terrified Ellie. Paul had used “muscle” before to get his way, big thugs who could… Still gripping the wooden spoon, she hurried outside and saw two big men approaching Mikhail on the beach. In denim jackets and jeans, they matched Mikhail for height and build, and reaching him, they began butting him with their shoulders and hooking an arm around his neck. Then, with a shout, the three men went down into the sand, Mikhail on the bottom. The sack he had been carrying broke and groceries spilled upon the sand.

“You let him go!” Running toward the wrestling men, Ellie didn’t pause; she threw herself on top of the first man and grabbed his hair, pulling hard. She thumped the man over Mikhail with her spoon. “Get off.”

“Hey! That hurt.”

“Let him go, or I’ll get you again,” she threatened fiercely as she pulled the other man’s hair.

“Ouch! Lady, let me go.”

The whole mass of male muscle beneath her stopped heaving and—and laughing. They were laughing, not arguing and threatening. She peered over the shoulder of the top man down at Mikhail who was grinning at the bottom.

“Hi, honey. Meet my cousins from Wyoming. You’re on top of Alexi, and then the other is Danya Stepanov. They’re brothers…their father is Viktor, brother to my father.”

Sprawled over one man, Ellie hurriedly pushed herself
to her feet. Still worried about him, she stood rigid as the men eased to their feet, and Mikhail stood unharmed and laughing as he hooked an arm around both men’s necks.

All three men were rumpled, dusted with sand, and by their strong features, clearly related.

And she could have killed them.

“You were worried for me, yes?” Mikhail asked as she dusted the sand from his hair and clothing—none too gently, because she was thinking of…

He took the spoon from her hand as if fearing she would use it on him.

While she was deciding where to hit him since he’d frightened her so, Mikhail wrapped her in his arms and kissed her long and hard.

He eased her away and looked over her head to the two men. “I love her, of course.”

Then, while she was dealing with
I love her, of course,
he bent to ease her over his shoulder and carried her toward the cabin. “Mikhail, let me down.”

When he placed her on her feet in the cabin and quickly wrapped his arms around her, Ellie didn’t know whether to hit him or kiss him. Alexi and Danya entered the cabin, carrying the groceries. “Hold her. Don’t let her go,” Alexi warned.

“I love you,” Mikhail repeated quietly, solemnly as he smoothed her hair back from her face.

“I love you, too,” she whispered unevenly, surprised at the truth, at her ability to say it, returning the emotion with every molecule deep within her.

This time, his kiss was gentle and seeking, and when Ellie opened her eyes, the two big western men were in the kitchenette, their denim jackets hung on the wall. They chopped and stirred as if completely at home and familiar with it.

Mikhail smiled slightly and brought her hand to his lips. “Do you mind?”

Mind what? Loving him, and him loving her?

He eased her onto a chair and bent to towel the sand from her bare feet, warming them with his hands.

“Do I mind what?”
I love you….

“My cousins dropping in for a visit. They’re unmarried and…”

“And you kissed me to show that I was already taken.”

He shrugged and stood, his hands on his waist. Mikhail looked down at her as if bracing himself for an argument and he was determined to have his say. “I find I have limitations with you. You are too desirable, especially now with your hair mussed and your color high, those eyes the color of thunderclouds. You look like a woman a man would want to make love to instantly. It was necessary to kiss you. They are Stepanovs. They understand. Are you killing me now, or later?”

Ellie stood and hurried to collect the underwear she wasn’t wearing, in anticipation of Mikhail—alone, without his cousins, who were humming what sounded like a Russian folk tune, punctuated with shouts. She slipped into the bathroom and changed with shaking hands. When she had brushed her hair and calmed herself, she braced herself to meet the men. Mikhail’s mind shaking, quiet
I love you
…roared over the current male rumble outside the bathroom.

And she’d shocked herself, hearing that she loved him, too!

The men seemed to fill the small cabin and mixed with the scent of her spaghetti sauce was that of beef stroganoff. Alexi was tossing salad greens into a bowl, crumbling feta cheese into it, and Mikhail was setting the table; a fluid mix of English and Russian flowed between them. The men were too potent, too big and overwhelming, Ellie found Danya looking at her. “Sit and have a glass of wine. Tell me about your daughter. Do you have a picture?”

Ellie opened her bag and showed the mini album of Tanya. The ache to hold her daughter curled around her.

“Beautiful. I want children, a lot of them,” Danya said quietly. “A Stepanov usually does want children.”

His sky-blue eyes locked with hers. One woman hadn’t wanted Mikhail’s life in Amoteh, or his baby. The Stepanovs were a close family and they worried for each other.

“I want Mikhail,” Ellie said quietly, but feared that she could cost him dearly.

Danya’s bear hug surprised her, and so did his brief kiss to her cheek. “You’re good for him. It’s been a long time since we heard him laugh.”

“Hey, Ellie,” Alexi said as he poured noodles into a bowl. “When dinner is finished, we’re going to see Katerina. It’s a short stop and then back to Wyoming. We have a lot to do and don’t have much time. Are you coming with us, little sister?”

He walked to where she was sitting, struggling with Danya’s hug, and bent to lift her to her feet, giving her another hug. Riveted by the open affection, Ellie stood very still in the single room filled with big men, and tried to find her bearings.

“She’ll have enough of you, by the time you eat everything,” Mikhail said quietly as he came to sit, easing her onto his lap. “Feed me, woman.”

Instead, because she needed to react from the big male hugs, she kissed him. “Take that.”

The growling noise he made only for her caused her to laugh, because she knew that when alone, they would both be taking—

This was a family, Ellie thought later as the big Stepanov men cuddled and cooed and exclaimed over Jarek and Leigh’s baby, delighting in how strong her tiny hand gripped their fingers. Jarek’s photographs had captured Katerina’s expressions; his love for his wife as she held their daughter seemed to fill their home.

Fadey beamed as he held his granddaughter. “Now I have two, Tanya and Katerina.”

When tears came to Ellie’s eyes, she turned her face to
Mikhail’s shoulder and his arm held her close. He held her hand as the family talked quietly—Viktor loved ranching, but he also missed making furniture with his brothers and the ocean.

Mikhail rocked her against him. “Missing Tanya?”

“Very much.”

“It’s only for a little while. She’s enjoying herself from the sound of it. She called me today. Apparently, there’s a pony she’d like to bring home,” he said as Bliss passed and patted him on the head. Her color was high and beads of sweat were on her forehead.

Ed was brooding in a corner, a sign that Bliss’s midlife moods had changed and she’d zapped him.

“You said you weren’t staying long?” she asked Alexi as she served him a large piece of Leigh’s double chocolate cake.

“Just overnight and then we’ll be on our way. We can’t be gone too long from the ranch. Dad needs us.”

The men looked at Mikhail, who shook his head as if to stop further explanation.

“So you had a few days off and you came to visit Mikie?” She couldn’t help the tease.

Jarek, Alexi and Danya were on Mikhail’s nickname instantly. “Oh, Mikie…” they chorused together, grinning at him. “Mikie, Mikie, Mikie.”

He groaned and shook his head. “You’re going to pay for that,” he murmured to Ellie.

When Mikhail slept, holding her later that night, Ellie knew she had to protect him and his family. Just as he’d protected her and hers….

“You miss Ellie already, eh? And she’s only taking a weekend away.” Fadey reached to turn off his saw and then the vibrant accordion music he liked while working in the shop. He ran a loving hand over the walnut cabinet that Mikhail was building and bent to critically inspect the drawers. “She will like that and the new sewing machine
you got—so many gadgets and far more difficult than your mother’s old machine. But I think you should give her that one instead. She has nothing of her mother. Such a sad story…. Use the new hardware for the drawers. It is more suitable. More like a woman.”

“She’s gone to see Paul.” Mikhail removed the red bandanna he had been wearing across his forehead and brushed the sawdust from his face with it. He tested the wooden dowels into the holes he had drilled and fought the memory of the bitter argument he’d had with Ellie as she’d packed to drive to Seattle.