Claimed for Makarov's Baby

She tried to match the studied politeness he’d been showing her all day, but suddenly she noticed a new restlessness in his eyes. A certain tension in his powerful body. ‘What is it that you want, Dimitri?’

She was trying to sound matter-of-fact but she failed miserably and something about the thready quality of her voice made his eyes narrow.

‘I’ve come to say some things which I should have said a long time ago.’

She looked at him. ‘What kind of things?’

Dimitri met the question in her green eyes and hesitated, because what he was about to do did not come easily to him. He had grown up in a world where explanations were never given, where feelings were buried so deeply that you could almost fool yourself into thinking they didn’t exist. And he had carried on that same sterile tradition into his own adult life. Never explain had been his motto. People could take him as they found him and if they didn’t like him, then tough. There were plenty more eager to fall into line, because power made people eager to please you.

But not Erin. Erin was different. She did what she thought was right—no matter at what cost to herself. And she was the mother of his child. She deserved his respect—he realised that now. And maybe she also needed to know some of the things he was fast discovering about himself.

‘I understand now why you kept Leo from me for so long,’ he said.

Her eyes were wary. ‘You do?’

He nodded. ‘Why would you want an innocent child being corrupted by someone who saw life through the bottom of a glass, as I did? Whose idea of fun was being the last person left in the casino after he’d emptied his wallet? Who revelled in the sense of danger, as much as the thrill of risk? I don’t blame you for cutting me out of his life, because that’s what any good mother would do and you are a fantastic mother,’ he said slowly. ‘And our son is beautiful. He’s just beautiful, Erin.’

Erin didn’t know what she’d been expecting, but this hadn’t even featured on her list of possibilities. And the crazy thing was that the things he’d said made her want to cry. She found herself wishing he’d come and found her a long time ago to tell her he had cleaned up his act and then he could have met Leo a whole lot sooner. She thought of all those wasted years which they could never get back and suddenly she didn’t want to risk a moment’s more regret.

She blinked away the incipient tears which were pricking at the backs of her eyes. ‘Kiss me,’ she whispered.

‘Erin—’

‘Shut up,’ she interrupted and in the midst of her hunger and heartache she realised that she was one of the few people he would allow to interrupt him like that. ‘Just shut up and kiss me, Dimitri. Please.’

He moved forward and cupped her face in his hands and suddenly he was driving his mouth down onto hers, his tongue coaxing her lips apart as he began to explore her with an urgency which made her feel weak. She wondered if it was her self-imposed embargo on sex which made this kiss seem so...profound, or because it was underpinned by a distinct air of reconciliation?

She didn’t know and, right now, she didn’t care. The only thing she cared about was the way he was touching her—running the flat of his hand down over her flower-sprigged nightdress.

‘Is this what the English call a passion-killer?’ he questioned drily as he peeled off her long nightdress.

‘Why?’ She shivered as the cool air hit her heated skin. ‘Is it working?’

‘Are you kidding? It’s the sexiest piece of clothing I’ve ever seen,’ he growled as he picked her up and carried her over to the bed.

She helped him undress—her inexperience forgotten in the midst of her excitement at revealing the powerful body. She traced her fingers experimentally over his hair-roughened thighs, feeling stupidly pleased by his exultant shiver and the little groan of satisfaction he made. And wasn’t that the thing about Dimitri—that somehow, despite everything, she always felt like his equal in bed?

The sheets felt cool against her naked body but Dimitri was all welcoming warmth as the mattress dipped beneath them. Tilting her chin, he looked at her for one long, wordless moment before slowly lowering his mouth to kiss her.

He wrapped his arms around her—his powerful legs entwining with hers and his fingers stroking her skin, so that at first she shivered and then relaxed. It felt so good to be here with him like this. Unbearably good. She found herself praying that he wouldn’t hurt her—before vowing that she wouldn’t ever allow herself to get hurt.

His hands moved to her hips, urging her even closer, and her nipples grew hard against his chest. She could feel the heavy weight of his erection pushing against her belly and her face grew hot. The blood in her veins seemed to be growing thicker. She could feel the molten heat between her legs and when he slid his fingers there, she writhed with pleasure—moving her body against him in a silent message of invitation.