Red Alpha: A BWWM Russian Alpha Billionaire Romance by Cristina Grenier Page B
Authors: Cristina Grenier
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her outer extremities…though, Demyan knew, he had little to no business thinking about Cadence’s insides or her extremities.
“Demyan?” At her soft inquiry, he looked up to see the dark-skinned woman slipping from the bathroom, wrapped in one of the silk robes that the hotel provided. Her teeth were still chattering even as she gazed about the suite questioningly. “Where are my clothes?”
He rose quickly, setting aside his own whiskey in favor of bringing her the extra glass he had poured. “They’re being cleaned. It will take a while. In the meantime, drink this.” He pressed the glass into her hands, his own covering her slender fingers for the briefest moment so she flushed.
He was keeping her warm ,he reminded himself. This was all platonic.
“What is it?” She immediately countered, eying the amber liquid skeptically so he couldn’t help a small smirk.
“Poison.” Her eyes jerked to his in alarm a moment before he sighed, shaking his head. “It’s whiskey, Cadence. It will warm you.”
“But…I’m warm.” She managed lowly, even as her trembling betrayed her. Demyan exhaled, running a hand through his hair. He had to wonder if she really had warmed enough from the bath and she was trembling because he intimidated her, or if she was still chilled. There were a few ways he could find out, but he chose to get directly to the point – it would be better for her health.
“Cadence, if you don’t drink, I swear I’ll do what you fear I will.” At his thinly veiled threat, the young woman stiffened before him, her eyes widening slightly. She clutched her glass of whiskey tightly between her hands as she stared up at him, her full mouth slightly parted in shock.
And in that instant, Demyan wished to God that he hadn’t let her rile him. He should have left her in the room to warm up on her own and gotten back to the Kremlin – explain what happened to Osip in person. That would have been the best policy.
Instead, he found himself repulsed by the idea of leaving her shivering in the city center by herself. He was a cold man, he knew – but not that cold.
Staring down into her honey colored eyes, Demyan’s shoulders tightened. If she was so frightened of him, why on earth did she look at him like that? Like she wanted him to do nothing more than to carry her to bed and have his way with her?
“I’m…” She swallowed thickly, her hands tightening on the drink she held. “I’m not afraid of you, Demyan.” Cadence’s words came out in the barest whisper, her eyes never leaving his, and the statuesque man felt his dark slacks tightening.
“You should be.” His words came out in a dangerous, low growl that spoke of the fire she was toying with. How, he asked himself for the millionth time, had the US government sent someone as completely unassuming as Cadence Freedman to Russia by herself? He kept expecting her to be eaten alive.
By all that was holy, he wanted to be doing the eating. “Why?”
At her inquiry, he restrained a groan. “ Drink .”
At his pointed command, she finally lifted the glass to her mouth to take a small sip. The way her eyes slid closed as she appreciated the slow burn of the liquor had him snatching the glass from her the moment she finished to set on the nearest available surface. When Demyan jerked her into his arms, she didn’t resist. Instead, she reached for him, drawing his face down so that he could kiss her.
And unleashed the beast.
With a low groan, his hands slid under her thighs to lift her against him as he backed her against the nearest wall. Cadence inhaled sharply against his mouth as the motion trapped her between the length of his body and the unyielding surface at her back. His mouth devoured hers without heed, kissing and sucking at her lips until she was moaning and undulating against him.
One of Demyan’s long fingered hands slid beneath her robe to find the curve of her bare behind as he parted her thighs to press his heavy
“Demyan?” At her soft inquiry, he looked up to see the dark-skinned woman slipping from the bathroom, wrapped in one of the silk robes that the hotel provided. Her teeth were still chattering even as she gazed about the suite questioningly. “Where are my clothes?”
He rose quickly, setting aside his own whiskey in favor of bringing her the extra glass he had poured. “They’re being cleaned. It will take a while. In the meantime, drink this.” He pressed the glass into her hands, his own covering her slender fingers for the briefest moment so she flushed.
He was keeping her warm ,he reminded himself. This was all platonic.
“What is it?” She immediately countered, eying the amber liquid skeptically so he couldn’t help a small smirk.
“Poison.” Her eyes jerked to his in alarm a moment before he sighed, shaking his head. “It’s whiskey, Cadence. It will warm you.”
“But…I’m warm.” She managed lowly, even as her trembling betrayed her. Demyan exhaled, running a hand through his hair. He had to wonder if she really had warmed enough from the bath and she was trembling because he intimidated her, or if she was still chilled. There were a few ways he could find out, but he chose to get directly to the point – it would be better for her health.
“Cadence, if you don’t drink, I swear I’ll do what you fear I will.” At his thinly veiled threat, the young woman stiffened before him, her eyes widening slightly. She clutched her glass of whiskey tightly between her hands as she stared up at him, her full mouth slightly parted in shock.
And in that instant, Demyan wished to God that he hadn’t let her rile him. He should have left her in the room to warm up on her own and gotten back to the Kremlin – explain what happened to Osip in person. That would have been the best policy.
Instead, he found himself repulsed by the idea of leaving her shivering in the city center by herself. He was a cold man, he knew – but not that cold.
Staring down into her honey colored eyes, Demyan’s shoulders tightened. If she was so frightened of him, why on earth did she look at him like that? Like she wanted him to do nothing more than to carry her to bed and have his way with her?
“I’m…” She swallowed thickly, her hands tightening on the drink she held. “I’m not afraid of you, Demyan.” Cadence’s words came out in the barest whisper, her eyes never leaving his, and the statuesque man felt his dark slacks tightening.
“You should be.” His words came out in a dangerous, low growl that spoke of the fire she was toying with. How, he asked himself for the millionth time, had the US government sent someone as completely unassuming as Cadence Freedman to Russia by herself? He kept expecting her to be eaten alive.
By all that was holy, he wanted to be doing the eating. “Why?”
At her inquiry, he restrained a groan. “ Drink .”
At his pointed command, she finally lifted the glass to her mouth to take a small sip. The way her eyes slid closed as she appreciated the slow burn of the liquor had him snatching the glass from her the moment she finished to set on the nearest available surface. When Demyan jerked her into his arms, she didn’t resist. Instead, she reached for him, drawing his face down so that he could kiss her.
And unleashed the beast.
With a low groan, his hands slid under her thighs to lift her against him as he backed her against the nearest wall. Cadence inhaled sharply against his mouth as the motion trapped her between the length of his body and the unyielding surface at her back. His mouth devoured hers without heed, kissing and sucking at her lips until she was moaning and undulating against him.
One of Demyan’s long fingered hands slid beneath her robe to find the curve of her bare behind as he parted her thighs to press his heavy
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