Lion of Midnight Read online

  “I’ll be waiting,” she returned.

  As I have been for you. Nikolas turned on his heel and walked away, resisting the urge to look back over his shoulder and ensure she was still waiting. It didn’t take him long to remove his coat, as well, and hang it over his chair. Walking from the room, he paused in the doorway. There she was. Looking at a statue, hands shoved in the back pockets of her jeans, lower lip caught in her teeth and oh so adorable.

  His cock throbbed and reminded him it had been a while. He grinned. It could have been yesterday, and it wouldn’t matter. That beauty over there is my woman. Nikolas knew no other woman would ever get a reaction like this from him, again.

  Tugging on the bottom of his shirt, Nikolas moved across the floor toward her. As he approached, she turned her head from the statue of Tsar Alexander the Third and looked at him. He watched her eyes rove up and down his form before filling with appreciation, an act that had him fighting down an arrogant grin.

  “So?” he asked. “Figure out where you’d like to start?”

  That plump lower lip of hers popped out from between her teeth as she walked toward him. He took in the way she moved, athletic and yet seductive. She cocked her head to the side and said, “Actually, yes.” Then, she shrugged. “Well…okay, here’s the thing.” When they stood toe to toe, she stopped.

  Nikolas wanted nothing more than to tuck the strands of wayward hair behind her ear. “Ask your question, Cleopatra.”

  Pulling a hand from her pocket, she waved it. “Cleo, please. I’m rarely called by my full name.” He nodded his acquiescence and watched her chew on the inside of her cheek. “I’m kind of looking for some information on someone. I don’t have much, and the only lead I have for anything further is here in Novgorod.”

  He arched a brow, totally intrigued. “Well, this is one of the best museums for our history. So, I’d bet you could find your answers here or, if not, be sent in the right direction.” Nikolas flashed a smile. “But I think this place is full of information.”

  “This isn’t your museum, is it?” she asked.

  “No. Although, my family has made large contributions to it.” The familiar lie slid from his lips.

  “That explains why you’re allowed here after closing.”

  He winked. “Perks.”

  “You’re a smooth one, Nikolas.”

  “I’m many things, Cleo.” The most important being yours. “So,” he said, “who are you trying to find out more about?” His gaze drifted to where the snowflake pendant hovered just above the valley between her full breasts.

  Cleo could feel the heat of his gaze burning her skin. Almost as if he held a brand to her, leaving his own personal mark. Tamping down the urge to squirm under his bold gaze, she focused on his question. As much as she wanted to ask him about this mysterious Lion of Midnight, in some perverse way, she didn’t want to share him.

  “I think I’d like to start around Kievan Rus’ if that’s okay.”

  His eyes jumped up to her face, and she witnessed surprise and admiration in his gaze. “Most definitely.” He offered his arm, and she took it.

  Out of the corner of her eye, she watched him as they headed toward the big staircase. He looked even better than he had at the bakery if that were possible. The man was just flipping massive. And, the way his clothing hugged his body made her want nothing more than to strip them off of him and see if he looked as good without them, or better.

  Her pussy pulsed, reminding her that it’d been a lengthy time since a man had paid it any attention. She and her ex hadn’t been intimate long before they got divorced. But, hell, he was getting it on the side. Cleo tensed at the reminder of that day her world had changed.

  “Something wrong?” A sexy voice snapped her out of the bad memory she was becoming entrenched in.

  Forcing back the depressing thoughts, she smiled at the handsome man staring down at her. “No, just got lost in the past.”

  He moved his large body closer to hers, blocking her against the railing of the stairs they ascended. A whimper of desire attempted to slip past her lips, but she swallowed it back and, in doing so, brought the delicious scent that surrounded him into her nose and embedding it into her skin.

  “The look on your face tells whatever it was isn’t a pleasant memory.”

  He reached toward her with one strong hand and brushed back the tendrils of hair that had escaped the confines of her barrette. Her insides shook like an earthquake as his skin touched hers. The tips of his fingers were rough, and immediately, she wondered what they would feel like caressing her naked body.

  “Not all memories are pleasant ones,” she managed to force out. “We should keep going.”

  She held her breath as he examined her for a few seconds. Cleo shoved away her disappointment when he backed off and allowed her room to walk without touching him. Jeez, I’m the one who told him we needed to keep going. He was just doing what I’d asked.

  “Top of the stairs and we go to the left.” He shoved his hands into the pockets of his cargo pants.

  There was just something about him that rang familiar to her. It was as if she’d seen him somewhere before. It didn’t make any sense, but that was the feeling she got looking at him. Well, not the only feeling but one of them.

  Cleo kept sneaking glances at him as they headed through the darkened museum. Dear Lord in heaven, I want to jump him. Inhaling sharply, she tore her gaze away from him and tried to get drawn in by the pieces of Russian history that surrounded them. For once, it didn’t work. The man keeping pace beside her was what she wanted to study more.

  Even though, each time she stole a glance at him, he was facing forward, Cleo would swear he watched her. She could feel his gaze upon her, because her body temperature kept increasing. And, I thought Lane looked good. She smiled over the memory of Kenya’s boyfriend. Country superstar, Lane Strong. He was a very good-looking man.

  “Well, now, I get a smile. I take it this memory is a more pleasurable one?”

  “Yes. It is.” She nodded and almost missed the slight narrowing of his eyes.

  “Going to share?”

  “I was thinking about a friend of mine and…” She trailed off, shocked she’d almost admitted what thoughts had crossed her mind.

  His strong hand curled around her upper arm, pulling so they were face to face. “And?”

  Cleo spied into eyes that seemed darker as they swirled with…anger? Thinking fast, she said, “And, I was wondering what she would think of the day I’ve had.”

  His entire outward appearance relaxed. “She sounds like a good friend. What’s her name?”

  “Kenya.” Cleo picked up the pendant she wore. “She gave me this before I left for Russia. In fact, she was one who encouraged me to come here, instead of telling me how crazy I was.”

  “May I?” he asked, reaching toward the snowflake she held.

  “Of course.”

  She gulped when his fingers slid across hers to touch the silver pendant. Her belly formed knots as his knuckles brushed against her sternum. He leaned in closer, and she could see the many different shades of blond his hair contained. Clenching her hands into fists so she wouldn’t touch the silky strands, she struggled to keep her whimper contained.

  “Your friend got this for you?” he questioned.

  “Yes,” Cleo answered as he placed it softly against her skin and stepped back. “She said she was out shopping with her boyfriend, and when she saw it, she immediately thought about me. So, she bought it without further thought. Kenya gave it to me right before I got on the plane to come here.”

  “She sounds like a wonderful person.”

  Cleo smiled. “She is. One of the best I’ve ever known. I wish she could have come with me.” The thought of spending Christmas alone, without family or friends, was fast becoming a reality. She began walking, again.

  “And, why didn’t she?”

  “She has family to be with over Christmas, plus Lane.”

  Hi
s hand on her arm stopped her. “And, you don’t have family?”

  Did she want to tell him she was a failure at marriage? What did it matter anyway? “Not anymore. I’m recently divorced, and we didn’t have any children. I rarely go see my siblings, for my ex-husband tried to keep me away from them; we spent holidays with his family instead.”

  “Some man let you go?” His grip turned seductive, and his fingers stroked her through the cashmere sweater. Her heart rate and breathing increased in response. “Well, I suppose that’s for the best.”

  She jerked her arm from his hold. “Excuse me?” That was not what she was expecting him to say.

  “This way, I don’t get accused of stealing another man’s woman.”

  As fast as it had reared its head, her anger gave way to a different emotion. Warmth flowed up through her body. He had sounded so matter-of-fact when he spoke, it was as if he totally believed the words he’d said. And, she had no response for him.

  His thumb swiped across her lower lip before he said, “The Kievan exhibit is right over there.”

  Her legs were shaking so badly she wasn’t sure she’d be able to move. Her body cried out when he removed his touch. She felt empty. Licking her lips, she noticed the flare of heat in his gaze, and it made her feel a bit better. I’m not the only one fighting emotions here.

  “Thank you,” she muttered as she forced herself to walk away from him.

  Chapter Five

  Nikolas kept his gaze glued to Cleo’s ass as she headed away from him. His eyes following the unintentional and, yet, totally seductive sway of her jean clad derriere. His body was so tightly coiled, he felt ready to explode. Touching her had been a mistake; he hadn’t been ready to do so, knowing he had to release her.

  Witnessing the pain on her face as she mentioned her ex-husband made him want to pull her into his arms and promise everything would be fine, that he would take care of her for the rest of her life. But he hadn’t. Instead, he’d let her talk and pull away. He didn’t want to rush her.

  That’s not true. I do want to rush her, and yet, at the same time, I want her to be one hundred percent sure of what she’s doing when she comes to me. I’m not going to be a vacation fling.

  He couldn’t take his eyes off her. She stood a short distance away from him, and he was totally captivated by everything about her. Her passion for the past only endeared her more. Nikolas wanted to know all about her. Her likes, dislikes, fears, and dreams. He wanted to hold her and never let her go.

  Clearing his throat, he stepped up beside her, again taken in by the way his body reacted to the scent she wore. “So, what is it about Kievan Rus’ that is alluring to you?”

  She moved to another depiction of a battle before she answered. “Everything. But, to be totally honest, I’m looking for more information on one person.”

  “And, who would that be?” He again closed the distance she’d put between them. “A prince?”

  “No,” she said immediately. “Well, I don’t think he was a prince. I can’t find much of anything on him.”

  Slipping his hands into his pockets so he didn’t grab her, he peered sideways at her. “Who is he? I know a bit about the time period; perhaps, I can help.”

  Her indecision to tell him was plain all over her expressive face. Who was this person, and why did she hesitate to tell him? Again, that ugly head of jealousy rose up within him. He racked his brain to figure out who this person could be, that warranted such passion within her.

  “The only name I know him by is—” Her voice dropped off, and he tore his gaze away from her mouth to follow her line of sight.

  Cleo gawked at an image he knew very well. He bit the inside of his bottom lip. Staring back at him was an interpretation of the Lion of Midnight.

  “No way,”

  Her mumbled voice reached him. Licking his lips, he glanced down at the woman beside him. Her gaze flickered back and forth between him and the painting. “That’s just freakily uncanny,” she said before meeting his gaze and sending him a nervous smile.

  “Everything okay?”

  “Fine. Umm, never mind the name, can we see the section that deals with Tsar Nicholas the Second?”

  “Of course.” He gestured for her to begin walking. “Right this way.” As they strode away, he noticed her continuing to glance at him, more than mere suspicion in her gaze. “Right in here is our display of Nicholas the Second, Emperor and Autocrat of All the Russias.”

  Her dark eyes snapped up to his face, her brows furrowed in confusion. “I don’t hear that title used with him very often.”

  “It is his proper title.”

  “Yes, but don’t most call him Tsar Nicholas the Second?”

  He cursed silently. She was absolutely right. Nikolas watched as she moved away from him and closer to a large photo of Nicholas II. Moving closer, he heard a light chime ringing. As he waited, she reached into her pocket and pulled out a phone, flipped it open and said, “Hey there.”

  Though it galled him to do so, Nikolas retreated slightly to give her a bit of privacy while on her phone. Her expression was totally different as she spoke to the person on the other end. She had a deep, husky laugh that only served to make the erection in his pants grow harder. As she carried on her conversation, Cleo made her way over to a bench along the wall and sat down, to allow complete attention to the person on the phone. Her sultry southern drawl flowed over him as she spoke rapidly to someone he assumed meant a lot to her.

  Finding a spot along the wall that was clear, Nikolas leaned against it and watched her animated actions as she talked.

  Cleo was honestly having a hard time focusing on Kenya. Her gaze kept drifting to the powerfully built man propped against the wall. When he stood like he was, his arms strained against the sleeves of his shirt, and his pants conformed tightly to one side, allowing her a perfect look at his rock hard thigh and ass.

  She squirmed on the stone bench, the coolness of the material doing very little to quell her ever increasing desire for the man she watched. Kenya must have known her attention was off for she ended the call quickly, saying to give her a ring when she had some time and to stay safe. Even though Kenya had hung up, Cleo kept up the pretense of continuing her conversation. Through lowered lashes, she observed the man with her.

  The resemblance between him and this so-called Lion of Midnight had really thrown her. She was surprised it hadn’t hit her immediately. Shaking her head, Cleo realized she must be going crazy. Surely, if there were that much of a similarity, others would be saying it, as well. Granted, she was getting a private tour, after hours, and there were no others around. In fact, she hadn’t even seen night guards.

  Without thought, she snapped her phone shut and sighed. Placing her eyes on the man still lounging against the wall, she smiled shyly at him. Then, he pushed away and headed back toward her, moving with purpose and determination. Never had she seen a man move like him before. Ever. There was this way about him that, well, men she knew didn’t have. It was… Hell, she couldn’t explain it; it was just different.

  “Your friend?” he asked as he approached.

  “Yes, that was Kenya.”

  “Everything okay with her?” He sounded oddly concerned, and she was touched, considering he didn’t know her.

  “Fine. She’s worried about me.”

  “Did you tell her you’re in very capable hands?”

  She shivered at the raw seduction in his voice. Every synapse in her body reacted to the silvery tone. Licking her lips, she held his arresting dark gaze. “I think she got the idea.”

  He straddled the bench and lowered his body beside her, maintaining the eye contact they shared. One hand reached out to stroke her arm. “Do you trust me?”

  Did she? Oddly, she did. “Yes.”

  The hand he’d had on her arm moved up to cup the side of her face. She quivered as his thumb made small passes across her lips. His brown eyes bore into hers and saw deep into her soul. Not a word passed betwe
en them as he diminished the distance from his mouth to hers.

  Cleo nearly stopped breathing as the museum shrank to the rugged face of Nikolas Andreyevich. There was nothing else in her world at that moment. Only his tanned face covered by a day’s worth of growth, dark chocolate eyes, and firm kissable lips, all of it combined with the crisp scent that always flowed from him to her. Her insides were a jumbled mess.

  She felt like a young girl waiting to experience her first kiss. Uncertainty about where to put her hands swamped her. A need to squeeze her eyes closed raced over her, but she fought that. The desire to stare into his swirling depths as they shared a kiss was stronger. She longed to shift against the smooth stone bench as heat unfurled in her belly and began to spread throughout her.

  His lips touched hers tenderly. Back and forth, they moved across hers, as if he were learning their feel and texture. It was a good thing she was seated, for her legs wouldn’t have been able to hold her. Tightening her fist, she shivered as his tongue slipped along the seam of her lips, seeking entrance. With a moan, Cleo opened for him.

  He didn’t invade her mouth. Instead, he explored it. His other hand settled against the nape of her neck, holding her closer. Her belly clenched as he teased the sensitive skin in time with his seductive sweeps within her mouth. He tasted as good as he smelled. Better, even. Her eyes drifted closed as he continued to delve into each inch of her mouth.

  Her pussy throbbed when his tongue began stroking along hers. With a mind of their own, her hands rested against the hard planes of his chest. The heat from his body singeing her palms. A deep purr rumbled up through his torso and escaped his throat, telling her he was pleased with her decision. He drew her tongue out to play and pulled it deep into his mouth. She whimpered, her hands tightening on his shirt.

  She melted when he lowered his hands and lifted her off the bench without breaking the kiss, settling her across his lap. He’d done so as if she didn’t weigh anything. Cleo mewled in the back of her throat as their pelvises met. She sank her hands in his hair, groaning in pleasure as the silken strands flowed over her skin. She began to rock her hips against his waist, bringing her sensitive clit as close as possible to the rigid erection in his cargo pants.