She bit her lips, whimpering as he slowly eased her panties down just enough to expose her to the tracing pad of his fingertip, delicately teasing her damp flesh into blossoming open, welcoming a deeper caress. “Demitri,” she gasped, her vision going white as he aroused her with deliberate expertise.
“You were like this that first time. So wet. As if you couldn’t wait for me to be inside you. I wanted to lick into this heat, but I couldn’t wait, either.” He pressed her backward onto the bed, releasing her hands so she splayed them, trying to keep her balance as he tipped her against the edge, skimming her undies from her legs and throwing them away. Then he knelt and pressed her knees open. “This time I will.”
“Demitri—”
He draped her thighs over his shoulders, pulling her into the tender plunder of his kiss, demanding everything from her, making her abdomen knot into such tension she nearly screamed, then releasing her to such a burst of pleasure she did cry out, arching and throwing back her head with abandon, willpower demolished. Subjugated by passion into a vessel for his pleasure.
He rose to roll on a condom, taking a moment to study her utter abandonment before he covered her. Very much the marauder taking his slave. He caged her with his arms, all man, ferociously possessive. He drove into her with the thick flesh that her body had been aching for, pressing inexorably into her. It was the piece that she’d been missing, erasing the ache of solitude and filling her with joy.
Wrapping her legs around him, she pulled him in, accepting all of him, and he shut his eyes as if it was too much. He began to move and she closed her eyes, too, unable to bear the intimacy. It was too acute. He was taking something from her that she would never get back. Perhaps it was her heart. It might even be her soul.
For this kind of pleasure, this kind of closeness, she told herself it was worth it. She would give him anything, she dimly acknowledged, as long as he continued making her feel whole.
* * *
Demitri felt strange as he padded around Natalie’s home barefoot and shirtless, sun streaming in through the front window to warm the hardwood floor. Last night had been intense, their appetites for each other as strong as ever and sharpened by emotion. Sex had been many things for him, usually escape or distraction, entertainment certainly. It had never been profound. It had never been a vehicle for closeness, for cementing a bond.
He kept having flashes of exposure, thinking of the things he’d told Natalie about himself. Then he would remember the way she’d opened herself to him, allowing his greed and dominance in her bed, letting him regain his masculinity while stroking and encouraging him, praising him for the pleasure he gave her. Snuggling tight against him with complete trust.
Something in him had been terrified she would reject him for all he’d told her. Her acceptance of him was disconcerting and oddly healing. It had pushed him from the bed before he’d had a full night’s sleep, restless to do more to close the gap between them. He’d sent a few emails and texts, looked in her refrigerator and settled for three truffles, then called a cab to deliver coffee and breakfast.
When it arrived, he threw on his jacket and shoes and ran out to pay, coming back to a locked door.
“Hey!” He glimpsed Natalie’s form through the window and knocked his elbow against the glass, showing her the fast-food bags.
She opened the door, a cross look on her face. “I thought you were ducking out.”
“Excuse me?” He was astonished, considering what he’d been up to this morning.
“Well, the coffeemaker is right there. You ate three of my truffles,” she accused.
“So you locked me out? Even though my bag is still upstairs?”
“I didn’t notice that.” She crossed her arms over the T-shirt she wore. It was her only attire. Her bare legs pressed together against the chill, toes curling into the floor. It took everything in him not to attack her on the kitchen table. “I heard the cab honk, then the front door. I looked out to see you running out to it, wearing your jacket and—”
“You deduced the worst.” She was never going to let him get away with a single thing. Privately that made him laugh, but he gave her his most aggrieved frown.
“Why didn’t you wake me up if you wanted coffee?” she asked defensively.
“Sweetheart, I am many things, but stupid is not one of them. How many men get away with telling a woman to get up and make him coffee?”
“Fair point,” she mumbled toward her toes.
“And I thought...” He ambled toward her, dropping the bag on the table before taking hold of her hips through the thin layer of cotton that barely covered them. “You would appreciate sleeping in, since I kept you up so late. And maybe you wouldn’t wake up grouchy.”
She diced him into little pieces with a glare.
He drew her closer, delicately crashing her against his growing arousal, liking the hitch of her breath. “And because I knew that once you were awake, I’d be hungry for more than an egg sandwich.”
She ran her fingers over his collarbone and warmed the skin on his shoulders and upper arms with a soft exploration of her feminine hands. “You can always wake me for that,” she assured him with a pouting moue that invited his kiss.
He brought her in tight now, enjoying the play of their bodies against one another as much as the play of the conversation. “I had something more important to do.”
“Really?” Predictable frost entered her tone, making him chuckle. Her hands shifted to the middle of his chest, pressing.
“Yes,” he confirmed, resurrecting his most bored and arrogant tone, purely for impact. “Among other things, I spent the morning redirecting my new staff to look for a property here in Montreal and see what is involved in drawing up incorporation documents for Canada instead of New York.”
Her arms went limp. Her expression was dumbfounded. “Are you serious?”
“As a heart attack, baby.” He surprised her with a dive to scoop her legs out from under her, giving her a little toss that made her scream before he caught her in the cradle of his arms and started for the stairs. “So don’t ever doubt me again.”
* * *
Natalie was suitably chastised for the rest of the day, cooking him a late breakfast, then suggesting some neighborhoods for his new offices. Maybe it was only something he was considering, but they wound up driving around the city in her car, scouting different blocks, then eating at a pub before going back to her place for a glass of wine, a movie and more incredible lovemaking.
She didn’t allow herself any doubts until Sunday, after he’d woken her with a light tease of his tongue on her nipple, which led to lusty groans of ecstasy shortly thereafter. It was well into late morning and they were still dozing off their lovemaking, negotiating who would rise and make coffee, when he asked her what she wanted to do with the day.
“I have to pick up Zoey,” she mumbled into her pillow. It had been hovering in her subconscious, waiting for the opportunity to be mentioned.
“From where?”
“Her grandmother’s. It’s a couple of hours out of the city.” She lifted her head to see he wore his most neutral, arrested look, reserving his thoughts. “Heath is supposed to bring her back by supper, but he’s always late. If I want her in bed at a reasonable hour on a school night, I have to get her myself.” She looked toward the window, pleased to see streaks of sunlight behind the blinds, but sad to cut short their weekend. “It’s not a bad drive on a nice day. I’ll probably stay for coffee.”
“With Heath? I’ll drive,” he stated before she could answer.
Jealous? She shunted off that thought, not wanting to build up his feelings into more than they really were.
“With his mother,” she clarified. “Heath will be ice fishing up on the lake, which is why he gets Zoey home so late.”
“I still want to drive.” He swung his legs to the edge of the bed and rose. The cheeks of his butt were taut and firm. The muscles in his back flexed as he rolled his shoulders.
“Demitri...” She sat up.
“It’s time for me to meet her, Nat.” He glanced back at her, the implacability in his features not allowing for refusal. “Especially if we’re all going to New York next weekend.”
About that, she wanted to say, but he disappeared into the shower and didn’t give her a chance to talk to him before they were in the car heading out of the city. By then she had gone around and through every avenue of thought on whether her behavior was wise. She kept coming back to his calling them a serious couple. He was considering working out of Montreal. If she didn’t want to be with him, she should tell him to get out of her life right now, before he made big changes to his own.
She wanted to be with him.
She just wasn’t convinced he would want to be with her and Zoey.
* * *
Despite Theo’s comment still rubbing like sandpaper on his ego, Demitri knew he wasn’t really like their father. The few times he’d had physical altercations had been with fully grown men who were drunk and trying to kill each other. He stopped violence, didn’t perpetuate it.