Instead, Addison had let her hair dry naturally as she’d taken her time dressing, and now it hung in dark waves down her back. She’d found a pair of white denim jeans in one closet, much snugger than she liked, which was only to be expected given the gazelle-like proportions of most of his usual female guests, and a lovely palazzo top in a vibrant blue-and-white pattern in another, which was loose and flowy and balanced out the jeans.          She had tossed on a slate-gray wrap to guard against the sea air now that evening was upon them and the temperature had dropped and had left her feet and her face entirely bare.          Miss Bryant disappeared leaving her place to Addison. She looked like… herself. At last. Yet Andrey stared at her as if she were a ghost.“Is this another version of thr

          In fact, that was all they expected of him. That was, the whole of the small town and his grandfather agreed… his destiny. His fate. That was what became of kids like him, conceived in disgrace and summarily discarded by both his parents. And yet, despite this, he had tried so hard, always looking for a kind word or just a nod from the only man he knew as being his family.          His lips curled now, remembering those empty, fruitless years. He’d wanted so badly to belong, since he’d first understood, as a small boy, that he didn’t. He’d obeyed his grandfather in all things.          Andrey Romanoff had excelled at school. He’d worked tirelessly in the family’s small shop, and he’d never complained, while other boys his age played soccer and roamed about, carefree, no respon

          Andrey was in a very bad mood. He sipped his espresso, as black as his current mood, and eyed Addison over the top of it when she appeared at breakfast the next morning. He had spent what was left of the night chasing the ghosts of his past out of his head and failing miserably.          Now, in the bright morning light, the opulence of the suite’s great room like a halo all around her, Addison looked her usual, sleekly professional self, and he found it profoundly irritating.          The woman he’d been unable to keep from touching on the terrace in the dark was gone... like she never existed. Gone as if she had been no more than a particularly haunting dream. And still, Andrey wanted Addison. Then… Now… Always…“We are going to Bora Bora,” Andrey announced out of the blu

          Addison woke to sunshine on all sides. It streamed in the open windows of her room, bathing her in light and the sweet, fragrant breeze. It felt like some kind of blessing, chasing away what shadows remained from the long night before.          She stretched on the soft mattress and told herself she was fine now. Fully restored. Andrey’s touch, his words, that fire that only seemed to build between them… it was all part of the past.          With a slight smile on her lips, she rose from her bed and dressed slowly choosing a loose and flowing pair of linen trousers and paired them with a strappy black vest. Then she swept all of her hair up into as sleek a ponytail as was possible in this climate.          Addison slipped on a pair of sandals and stepped outsi

          She tasted the way he remembered. Even better. So hot and good and so his. Andrey’s arms came around her, pulling her against him, into him, needing to feel the weight of her breasts against his chest, the softness of her belly against the thrust of his hardness, the gentle swell of her hips against his.          He kissed her again and again, reveling in the punch of it. And Addison met him. Her arms wrapped around his neck, her mouth moved against his with the same urgency, the same demand.          Andrey thought she said his name. He wasn’t sure he could speak or if he did, what language he might use, or if it would all come out as nonsense. He didn’t care. She was intoxicating, and he could finally let himself indulge in her as he wished.