RUSSIAN WINTER NIGHTS Read Online Free Page B

there. It was hard and warm. She began to rub experimentally, and it quivered under her touch.
    And when she squeezed, his thin ribbon of control broke.
    He tangled his fingers in her hair and pulled her head back, his nose to her throat and his teeth scraping her skin. Ekaterina stilled.
    “Am I doing it wrong?” she asked uncertainly.
    “No,” he grunted. “No.”
    “Then?”
    He pulled her face to his and kissed her hard.
    “You’re driving me mad,” he groaned as he feathered kisses over her cheekbones.
    “How?”
    “You make me want to do things I can’t do.”
    Ekaterina pulled back slightly to meet his eyes. The sensual tension between them pulled taut.
    “Like what?” she asked breathlessly.
    He pushed her hand back over his throbbing, hungry member, his larger hand covering hers. He leaned in close, his lips moving over her ear.
    “I want to lift your skirts right here,” he told her in a harsh whisper. “I want to rip away these beautiful clothes from your beautiful body. And I want to put this inside of you.”
    A shudder ran down Ekaterina’s spine, and her cheeks flushed scarlet. No noble would dare speak to her in such a way; none would not know her identity. Polished courtier he was not, and her doubts evaporated. She wanted to be with him; she wanted to know more about him. But she didn’t want him to hate her for leading him on, for making him think she was no one important. She frowned. If he found out she was more than a simple palace girl...if he found out she was the niece of the Empress, then he would think she was like all the other aristocrats—using and abusing those lower than themselves.
    “Hey!”
    Ekaterina stilled at the childish voice. She turned to see one of the friendlier servant girls calling to her from around a corner. The girl looked desperate and ready to run off at any second.
    “She’s looking for you!”
    Ekaterina didn’t need to be told who she was. She jumped away suddenly. Gathering her skirts, she met Andrey’s eyes.
    “I’m sorry,” she explained. “I’ve got to go. I’m so sorry.”
    Andrey held out a hand, but Ekaterina had already taken off running. She had to make it back to the ballroom before her aunt got too impatient—or all her hard work being invisible would be for naught. She dashed into the great hall. Pushing past the drunken nobles, she skipped to a halt in front of her aunt’s dais.
    “Oh!” her aunt called excitedly. “There you are, Ekaterina!”
    “Yes, Empress,” she said with a deep curtsy.
    “Come,” she said, beckoning with her pudgy fingers. “Come meet my new friends.”
    Friends? Ekaterina shivered involuntarily. She knew that her aunt had no real friends, only supporters and victims. The question was: which type were these?
    “I found the most lovely man while I was in Italy,” Empress Anna said, giggling like a schoolgirl. “An architect. I’ve commissioned him to complete the Hall of Light.”
    She pulled a skinny man to the fore. He was elaborately dressed, his eyes darting about nervously.
    “This,” she said proudly, “is Bartolomeo Rastrelli.”
    Ekaterina dipped her head in greeting.
    “And he has the most brilliant apprentice,” Empress Anna continued. “But where is he?” She looked around, mumbling his praises. “Ah!” she called. “There he is.”
    A man stepped through the crowd, and Ekaterina’s heart stopped.
    “This is my niece, the Lady Ekaterina Romanova,” Empress Anna announced to the men.
    Her aunt’s nasally voice faded as she met the eyes of the architect’s apprentice. She already knew this man—but evidently not as well as she had thought.
    “Ekaterina,” the Empress said, “this is Andrey Kvasov.”

Chapter Three
    Ekaterina watched, dumbfounded, as Empress Anna placed a chubby hand on Andrey’s shoulder. She could feel Andrey’s glare, but her eyes were transfixed by the sight of her aunt’s bejewelled hand sliding down to his chest. When the Empress gave him a