Читать книгу Seduced into the Greek's World - Dani Collins, Dani Collins - Страница 9
ОглавлениеDON’T, SHE THOUGHT.
But in the back of her mind, she asked herself, What’s holding you back? She had mentally allowed for something like this to happen. Heck, she’d actually bought condoms, thinking at the time that it was a ridiculous prospect, but secretly dreaming of being swept off her feet by a suave foreigner. Demitri was a prime example of the sophisticated man she’d hoped to meet. Plus, he actually knew how these situations worked.
But she hadn’t expected an affair to actually happen. She was normal, boring, run-of-the-mill Natalie. Not some irresistible, exciting woman who captivated a man.
Demitri looked at her as if she was that and more. He made her feel beautiful and alluring, as though she was the kind of woman who deserved a man to love and cherish her. That fantasy was as seductive as the genuine tingles of arousal he provoked in her.
When he closed his hand around hers and backed out of the elevator, drawing her with him, she let it happen.
Knees weak, heart pounding, lips still burning, she allowed him to lead her down the hallway, half convinced this was a dream because things like this didn’t really happen. Not to her.
They passed recessed doors that led to private suites. She’d only been in one Makricosta penthouse ever, to resolve a Wi-Fi issue for a client she hadn’t even seen. She knew of the family suites in each of the hotels, but hadn’t ever expected to see the interior of one.
Demitri let her in a door marked Private Residence.
She took in the overstuffed semicircle couch and round coffee table, the dining area and table for twelve, the marble mantel and matching accent tables. Table lamps provided soft light against the draped windows. The art on the walls looked expensive. The suite was tasteful and welcoming, if cold. Not as generic as a hotel room, but not really lived in.
“Take your coat?” he offered.
She set her pocketbook on the chest beside the door and offered her back, nerves strummed by the brush of his fingertips as he lowered her coat off her shoulders. The brush of silk lining down her arms caused her to shiver, making her nipples pull tight. Everything in her tensed with anticipation while nerves had her heart hammering in her throat.
Was she really doing this? She ought to tell him that she didn’t do this. It wasn’t her. He’d be disappointed.
Working up her courage, she turned, hands clasped before her.
He was looking at her legs, coat suspended from his hand. As she turned, he lifted his gaze to hers, locking her in a heated stare, not looking away as he tossed her wet coat toward the leather sofa.
“You shouldn’t do that,” she protested, taking an automatic step to fetch it.
He stepped into her space. The air between them thinned like smoke, leaving a vacuum that pulled them into the space, energy sizzling and popping with sexual awareness.
He was so gorgeous. Not just that sculpted jaw and his intense dark eyes, but the kissable shape of his lips and the scope of his shoulders. His wide chest and flat abdomen and long legs.
I don’t know what I’m doing. She tried to find the words, tried to make her throat work, but he touched a fingertip under her chin.
The brush was feathery and gentle. She hadn’t expected finesse, but honestly, a man didn’t rack up a conquest list like his by being a brute. He was showing her all his best moves, she reminded herself, but she still felt deliciously branded by his fingerprint. Lifting her gaze, she wound up fascinated by his mouth again, and it was coming closer...
Oh.
When had she even been kissed since having Zoey? Really kissed?
And so well?
He really knew what he was doing, persuading her with varying pressures and parted lips to follow him. Open. Let it deepen. Rock and soothe and moan involuntarily because it felt so good.
Seductive.
His arm hooked behind her and drew her into the hard wall of his chest. So good. And why? Why did the sheer hardness of him, the tension of strong muscles and flat breastbone and firm flesh, make her soften and weaken and melt into surrender?
So much strength harnessed and held in check for her.
He stroked his hands up and down her spine and she kept leaning closer and more fully, giving up more of herself until she was plastered to him, completely undone. Then he slid one hand down to clasp over her buttock and a heated zing of pleasure pierced deep in her belly, sending a flood of sexual awakening into her erogenous zones.
This was what she’d wanted. Sexual feelings. Womanly feelings. To be seduced so she wouldn’t have to think about right and wrong. Grateful to him for making this easy, she wound her arms around his neck and licked into his mouth, letting him know she was utterly receptive.
He grunted, hips jerking into her in a way that spoke of his excitement, which excited her in turn. With a bolder touch, he cupped her backside and found her breast, possessed it, stimulated her through the fabric of her dress so she wriggled against him with impatient desire.
They were breathing heavily, barely breaking to gasp before diving into another long kiss. She ran her hands over him, greedily taking her fill of his physique, not letting herself think about how to make this count. Rather, she steeped herself in the moment and savored every sensation, drinking in his heady scent, peppery and spicy, but musky and exciting at the same time. She bumped her thighs into his iron-hard ones, liking the sense he was undentable. Impervious.
Their tongues tangled and she groaned in sheer luxury, letting herself burn alive in the bonfire of desire building between them. His implacable strength seemed to overwhelm her for a moment, making her stumble, then she felt something against her bottom.
He lifted her, dress riding up at the same time, and sat her on the cold marble of the table by the door.
Before she could decide what she thought of that, he pushed her legs apart and stepped between them so they were eye to eye, mouth to mouth...
Kissing again. Deeply. Unreservedly.
The fine lace of her new Parisian panties snapped.
She gasped and closed her teeth on his bottom lip, waiting... There. He touched her, stroking lightly, just a tantalizing caress that made her flesh pulse for more. After a long, breathless moment he easily deepened his caress into her slippery folds.
Encouraging him with moans of pleasure, she inched forward and layered on openmouthed kisses, letting him know how good he was making her feel as he caressed her. Velvety waves of pleasure rolled outward from his touch, making her limbs weak and tingly, her core tight and eager.
With clumsy fingers, she undid his shirt buttons, wanting to taste his skin.
He took his hands off her long enough to yank his shirt open, revealing his muscled chest. Natalie couldn’t help but gasp and hook her heels against the backs of his thighs, urging him back into her space so she could splay her hands on him and take in all that burnished skin.
He resisted long enough to take something from his pocket, then he opened his pants. Despite how aroused and excited she was, a tiny niggle of nerves hit her as he revealed himself. They were doing this. Now. Here.
Jerking her gaze up from the condom he was applying to his very admirable erection, she looked into his face and saw a kind of blind passion that made her heart skip, as if a bucket of water had hit her, but it was hot enough to scald. He was as hungry as she was. Barely holding on to control. It was heady and exciting.
“Demitri,” she managed weakly.
“You’re incredible,” he muttered, hooking one arm behind her to draw her to the edge of the table. Then his gaze caught hers and something like panic edged into his. “You’re not with me?”
“No, I am. I want you. This. Now. Please.”
His breath flowed over her lips as he released it in an expulsion of jagged humor and relief. Firm pressure nudged at her opening and she closed her eyes, not wanting him to see how desperate she was right now. Aching with need.
He pushed with inexorable power into her. A smarting sting took her by surprise, making her catch her breath and set a hand on his shoulder.
Rearing back slightly, he said, “You’re not a virgin.”
“No!” Her gasping laugh came out as a papery husk. “It’s just been a long time. Please don’t stop. I really want this.”
He made a noise between frustration and despair as he covered her mouth, kissing her with hungry desire, trying to persuade her body into softness.
She enfolded him with her limbs, drawing him in, making the penetration happen despite the discomfort so they were locked tight, both pulsing in expectation. Yes. She’d needed so badly to be held tight against a warm body, a man’s hands caressing her as though she was treasure, his hardness filling her where she’d felt empty forever.
His head tipped back and he groaned at the ceiling. “You’re killing me.”
She smiled, easing her tight grip on him, but squeezing internally, signaling that she was ready. Needy. Scraping her nails against his sides, she bit his pecs, inciting him.
He drew in his breath as a fierce hiss, slitted eyes staring deeply into hers as he practically pulled her off the table and onto his firmly planted, hard body. Then he caged her with hard arms, one hand low enough on her tailbone to brace her on the edge of the table, the other hooked behind her knee, holding her open. From there it was primal, but so good. Basic he might be, but selfish he was not. Each thrust was possessive, controlled and deliberate. And he watched her the entire time, as though he was willing her to lose herself in their lovemaking.
She couldn’t hang on to control, not when the crashes of their hips sent detonations of joy splashing through her. Feverish and acutely sensitive, she felt everything from the friction of her silk slip to the damp sheen on his hot skin. He ducked his head to set his teeth against her neck. She knew a love bite would be bad, but she arched to make it easier for him to mark her. She’d never felt so glorious, so sexy or desired or alive.
They made love with lusty groans and fevered gasps as she greedily fought orgasm, loving the way he made her feel, filling her up and stroking his hand restlessly up her inner thigh, under her dress. Swearing gruffly against her cheek, he found her mouth with his own and her breast with his hand, pushing her bra cup up so he could pinch her nipple, seeming to shake with need as he quickened his pace and claimed her mouth as though she was his last meal.
“Now, Natalie,” he broke away to demand. “Now.”
His voice sent prickling sensations down her spine. The coiled sensation where he moved inside her deepened to a kind of tension she couldn’t resist. This was good, but the other side would be better. When he thrust deep and held himself there, held her tight to him, nudging her through the door of ecstasy right along with him, she gave herself up to it, clinging as though they were falling from an airplane into the sky.
For a blind second it was that fathomless. Then the tumble of orgasm struck, near wrenching in its power. The release and contraction inside her redoubled as Demitri pulsed and rocked, his body arched against hers in ecstasy, his cries triumphant, extending her sensation so she could only gasp and tremble, utterly helpless to their combined climax. He held her so tightly she was sure she’d bruise, but she didn’t care. Nothing hurt. All the dark spaces inside her glowed hotly. Her entire being flooded with bliss and perfection. She never wanted it to end.
But the quivering pulses eventually died away. Her awareness returned to their ragged breaths and the hard marble under her bottom and the coat of sweat on his skin against her own layer of perspiration.
Embarrassment struck like a hammer. She’d been so easy. She’d just had a one-night stand—literally with him on his feet.
Lifting his head, Demitri stole a few tissues from the box near her hip and eased from her. When he stepped away and turned his back, she forced her weak legs together and prayed they’d hold her as she unsteadily found her feet.
He walked into the first door down the hall. A powder room, she imagined, but didn’t stick around to find out.
Mortified, she grabbed her purse and left without a word.
* * *
Demitri was barely forming thoughts. Deep in the back of his mind he knew what had happened with Natalie was wrong, but that wasn’t why he’d sought a moment to pull himself together. He was fairly shameless when it came to right and wrong, but not usually so audacious as to take a woman inside the door like a sailor with a doxy. He might get his date into the mood in the lounge, but he never lost control there, not so completely.
That loss of sense made him uneasy. He loved sex, loved the escape and pleasure a woman’s body offered him, but what he’d just done with Natalie had been the wrong kind of mindlessness. As impulsive as he was accused of being, he typically knew exactly what he was doing at all times. How much damage and why.
In this case he’d cast any sense of consequence to the wind. She’d waved him in and he’d slid home.
And he wanted to do it again. In a bed this time. Again and again.
That was unsettling. He had a very healthy appetite for sex, but sex was sex and women were women. He never, ever thought things like, I want her.
Probably best to walk her back to her room and cut this short.
Avoiding his own gaze in the mirror, he closed his pants, but left his shirt open. One damp hand lifted to rub away the itch of drying sweat on his chest as he walked back to the lounge. His muscles still felt quivery and weak...
Where was she? Her coat was still there on the sofa, so...
“Natalie?”
In the bedroom? A strange relief flicked through him. The night wasn’t over after all. He ought to be uncomfortable with her making assumptions, but all he could think was that he could sate this disturbing desire to have her again. How could he be this restless and hungry when he was still buzzing with orgasm?
She wasn’t in his room.
Of course, she wouldn’t know which one was his.
“Natalie,” he called, pushing open all the doors as he went, even the ones to the room the children used, but she wasn’t in any of them. Kitchen?
As he went through the lounge, he glanced at the table by the door and noted her purse was gone. A sick lurch hit the pit of his stomach and panged a little higher when he saw the scrap of black lace he’d snapped and discarded on the floor.
Oddly uncomfortable with the evidence of their passion lying where housekeeping could find it—really not like him to have such a sudden and acute need for privacy—he stuffed the lingerie in his pocket and glanced into the hall outside the suite.
Empty.
Grabbing his room card, he went all the way to the elevator and hit the button. The doors opened immediately, so the car hadn’t moved since they’d left it less than thirty minutes ago.
Baffled, he went back into his suite and did another search.
Had she taken the stairs?
He dialed her room.
She answered with a brisk “Hello... Bonjour.”
“Natalie?”
A tiny pause, then, “Yes?”
“It’s Demitri.”
“I know. I recognize your voice.”
Another pause, this one longer. He was waiting for her to explain why she’d left, but there was an expectant curiosity on her side, as though she was waiting for him to tell her why he’d called.
It dawned on him that she hadn’t expected him to call.
When had he last called a woman in a timely fashion after a tryst, let alone within minutes of their parting?
“Oh, I forgot my coat!” she groaned in realization. “Rookie mistake. I’m sorry. That could be awkward, couldn’t it? Can you sneak it into the small meeting room on the second floor first thing tomorrow morning? That’s where we’re doing the group training sessions. I’ll pretend I brought it so I wouldn’t have to go to my room before leaving for lunch.”
“Sounds elaborate,” he commented with false calm, feeling like the rookie here as a hot, spurned sensation followed the word sneak. He told himself to go along with her plan and count himself lucky she hadn’t read more into their evening than was warranted, but he still found himself speaking in a low, uncomfortably dry voice. “I could bring it to you now. Or you could come back.”
“People are going to talk enough after seeing me go to dinner with you. I’d rather pretend nothing else happened.”
Ouch. He scowled across the empty lounge of his quiet suite.
“Is that why you left without saying good-night?” he asked. “You were afraid of being talked about?” Repercussions were not something he worried about. What she needed, he decided, was a demonstration of how quickly his credit card could swipe away any worries she might have. There really wasn’t much that couldn’t be resolved that way, and he was realizing that he’d happily pay whatever it took to get her back to his room and into his bed.
“I sure as heck didn’t relish doing the walk of shame in the morning,” she replied, delivering a second, startlingly efficient kick to his gut. Most women regarded sex with him as a badge of honor. Having her treat it as if it was something dirty was surprisingly demoralizing.
“I’m sorry if it was rude to leave like that, but it is a work night so I should, um, get some rest... I had a really nice time, though. Thanks.” Click.
Seriously?
He set down the phone and stared at it, tension increasing by the second.
“Let it go,” he said aloud, but his brain yelled, Seriously?
He looked at her coat draped over the back of the sofa. Defiance took him across to pick it up. Her scent wafted into his nostrils, confusing him with a swirl of misgivings and conscience and sexual hunger.
He put it down as though it was soaked in combustibles. His hands continued to tingle even when he closed them into fists.
She was doing him a favor, he told himself. They’d had no business taking a professional relationship to such a personal level. Leaving it as a one-night stand was absolutely the best thing to do.
Hell, the best thing he could do would be to put on a fresh shirt, go back to the club and pick up another woman. He would, he decided.
But didn’t move.
In his head, he heard that movie star say, I thought you were finished with her.
The graveled anger returned to the pit of his gut and he didn’t understand it. Yes, he picked up social climbers and took them to suites and nightclubs and lost them to celebrities. It was all part of catering to Makricosta’s elite clientele. But Natalie wasn’t part of that world.
The inconvenient integrity he’d shoved aside when she’d told him she wanted an affair returned with a twist of vengeance. Exploiting the innocent was one of the few things he tried not to do. The vulnerable were meant to be protected. His upbringing had taught him that much.
That was why he worked so hard to prove he wasn’t innocent or vulnerable. He was jaded and impervious.
Why was he dwelling on any of it?
He crossed to the bar and poured himself a drink, scowling at Natalie’s coat, thinking, I’m finished with her.
While her voice repeated in his head. Walk of shame, walk of shame, walk of shame.
* * *
Natalie was proud of herself for thinking to take the stairs last night. She’d run down them as though she’d been pursued, and had told herself she was shaking and breathless from the exercise, not as a reaction to intense lovemaking and a kind of shock.
That wasn’t supposed to have happened!
Dinner, okay. That was fine. Going to the club had been ill-advised, but not terrible. A kiss good-night? Generally acceptable after a date, even if kissing that particular man was a bad idea.
Sex? She honestly hadn’t planned that and couldn’t believe she’d been so swept up that she’d gone through with it. In the front room!
At least anyone watching the elevator lights would have seen it stop at her floor then stop at the penthouse without any sign of it returning down to hers. And people would watch for little signals like that. As much as she loved her job and the people she worked with, she knew they were the usual assortment of society. Most were wonderful and generous, but some lived for gossip and drama.
