Doukakis's Apprentice

She lay for a minute, her head resting on the hard muscle of his chest, her thoughts private and her expression concealed.

The panic spread slowly. As deadly and insidious as smoke sneaking through a burning building, it seeped into every part of her.

She felt his hand still on her back and wondered what he was thinking.

He was bound to be regretting it, wasn’t he? Damon Doukakis was a man who never lost control and he’d just lost control. And with a woman who aggravated him.

Trying to extricate herself from a hideous situation, Polly rolled away from him but a strong hand snaked out and caught her.

‘Where do you think you’re going?’

‘To bed.’

‘You’re in bed.’ His voice husky, he rolled her onto her back and slid his hand into her hair, forcing her to look at him. ‘My bed. What’s the matter?’

She wanted to run but the weight of his body pinned her to the bed, and as his mouth lowered to hers in a possessive kiss the desire to escape evaporated and she kissed him back, driven wild by the ruthless demands of his mouth.

‘Theé mou, you are the hottest, sexiest woman I have ever met,’ he groaned, sliding his hand under her bottom and lifting her against him. ‘What the hell are you doing to me?

She felt the hunger in him, the feverish tension. Instinctively she knew he felt the same primitive chemistry that kept her trapped in the bed when she knew she should leave. The passion was raw and entirely mutual.

Wrapping her arms around his body, she looked up at him, her heart drumming against her chest in a crazy rhythm. The muscles in his shoulders were

pumped up and hard and her stomach squirmed with liquid desire even as her brain rejected the image. ‘Stop playing the dominant male.’

‘I’m not playing at anything.’ His voice thickened with lust he brought her hips into contact with the hard thrust of his arousal. ‘And you want me as much as I want you.’

Oh, yes, she wanted him. She was every bit as desperate as he was. And the burning need overwhelmed the terror. ‘I suppose I’ll let you be the one in charge this time.’ Lowering her eyelids, she teased him. ‘It’s only fair as I was the one in control last time.’

Teasing her right back, he gave a slow, dangerous smile and lowered his mouth to hers, murmuring words against her lips. ‘I hate to break this to you, but you weren’t the one in control, agape mou.’

‘I had you on your back.’

‘I was on my back, that’s true—’ his eyes darkened and he tightened his hand on her bottom, lifting her ‘—but only because that’s where I chose to be. I had you exactly where I wanted you.’ Shifting her position subtly, he surged into her, and Polly gave a sob as she felt him filling her, the silken force of him stretching her sensitised flesh and fusing the two of them together.

For a moment he paused, letting her feel what he did to her, and she dug her nails into the satin-smooth skin of his back as she struggled with the fire that consumed her.

With a groan he withdrew slightly and then surged into her again. ‘You feel so good …’ With every driving thrust he sent the excitement tighter and tighter until release came in a shattering explosion of sweet sensation, the experience so sublime, so perfect, that she felt it in every corner of her trembling frame.

Slowly, the excitement faded to pleasure and then to a soft hum of blissful contentment.

For a moment she just lay there, slightly dazed.

And then the terror returned.

Emerging from a sex-induced coma, Damon woke to find himself alone in the bed.

As the morning light poured into the bedroom, it took him a moment to orientate himself. Turning his head slowly, he eyed the tangled sheets and found himself struggling with emotions entirely foreign to him.

He’d spent a wild night with Polly Prince.

Covering his eyes with his forearm, he swore long and fluently. It didn’t help to acknowledge that it had started with him trying to prove his ability to control his decisions and actions.

Control?

Where had control been during their marathon sex session? The irony slapped him in the face. In trying to prove control, he’d disproved it. And he’d done it again and again, until she’d been limp and pliant and had finally fallen asleep on his shoulder, those incredible limbs wrapped around him.

Just thinking about it made him hard again and he gave an exclamation of frustration and sprang from the bed, trying to dispel the image of a smouldering Polly letting her coat slip to the floor.