But that was all she managed to get out before his mouth closed over hers. She thought of flash fires, ball lightning and electrical overloads. With a murmur of approval, she tossed heat back at him.

“Now.” Instantly aroused, he scooped her up in his arms. “I suppose I must prove myself.”

Sydney hooked her arms around his neck. “If you insist.”

A dozen long strides and he was in the bedroom, where he dropped her unceremoniously onto the bed. By the time she had her breath back, he’d yanked off his shirt and shoes.

“What are you grinning at?” he demanded.

“It’s that pirate look again.” Still smiling, she brushed hair out of her eyes. “All you need is a saber and a black patch.”

He hooked his thumbs in frayed belt loops. “So, you think I’m a barbarian.”

She let her gaze slide up his naked torso, over the wild mane of hair, the stubble that proved he hadn’t bothered to pack a razor for the weekend. To his eyes, those dark, dramatic, dangerous eyes. “I think you’re dazzling.”

He would have winced but she looked so small and pretty, sitting on the bed, her hair tumbled from the wind, her face still flushed from his rough, impatient kiss.

He remembered how she’d looked, walking into the kitchen, carrying Katie. Her eyes had been full of delight and wonder and shyness. She’d flushed when his mother had announced that Sydney had made the eggs herself. And again, when his father had wrapped her in a bear hug. But Mikhail had seen that she’d hung on, that her fingers had curled into Yuri’s shirt, just for an instant.

There were dozens of other flashes of memory. How she’d snuggled the puppy or taken Brandon’s hand or stroked Freddie’s hair.

She needed love. She was strong and smart and sensible. And she needed love.

Frowning, he sat on the edge of the bed and took her hand. Uneasiness skidded down Sydney’s spine.

“What is it? What did I do wrong?”

It wasn’t the first time he’d heard that strain of insecurity and doubt in her voice. Biting back the questions and the impatience, he shook his head. “Nothing. It’s me.” Turning her hand over, he pressed a soft kiss in the center of her palm, then to her wrist where her pulse was beating as quickly from fear as from arousal. “I forget to be gentle with you. To be tender.”

She’d hurt his feelings. His ego. She hadn’t been responsive enough. Too responsive. Oh, God. “Mikhail, I was only teasing about Alex. I wasn’t complaining.”

“Maybe you should.”

“No.” Shifting to her knees, she threw her arms around him and pressed her lips to his. “I want you,” she said desperately. “You know how much I want you.”