Billionaires: The Daredevil: Claimed for Makarov's Baby / Defying the Billionaire's Command / Redeeming the Billionaire SEAL. Michelle ConderЧитать онлайн книгу.
the way her body had instinctively responded to him. That was what was worrying her more than anything. She’d tried to rationalise it as best she could, but in the end she’d been forced to face the truth. That she still wanted him. She swallowed. But that didn’t mean she was going to follow through. Because even though she’d ring-fenced her heart, Dimitri could still mess with her head. He could make her want things she knew were bad for her.
Mainly him.
Walking rigidly alongside him, she attempted to concentrate on her surroundings as they left the banqueting hall, trying to steer her thoughts away from his power and strength. But it wasn’t easy. There was a definite edge to him tonight. An edge which was all about sex—she guessed that, despite her relative innocence. The hunger in his eyes had been unmistakable as he’d stared at her across the dinner table—and she couldn’t deny that the feeling had been mutual. She had been overcome with a breathless need to feel him close to her again. To have him crush his lips down on hers. To let him pin her down onto the mattress and...and...
Erin swallowed.
And it wasn’t going to happen.
It couldn’t happen.
Because sex with Dimitri would weaken her. It would tear down her defences and make her helpless. And she couldn’t afford to be helpless. For Leo’s sake, she had to stay strong.
He might have changed in many ways. He might no longer be gambling, or drinking or embracing danger with a reckless hunger—but there was no guarantee that his attitude towards women was any different. Remember the way he treated you. She certainly hadn’t been expecting violins and commitment from him, but after that single night of sex he had been barely able to look her in the eyes. He’d acted as if the whole extraordinary night had never happened.
Her sandals made little sound as they made their way along the marbled corridors. But the magnificent architecture and scented courtyards were wasted on her—just like the wrought-iron lamps which flickered delicate patterns onto the walls. Her mind started picturing her little apartment back home, where everything she held dear was centred. She thought about a little boy sitting at a table, crayoning. She thought about his warm milk and bedtime story and those innocent eyes, which were so like those of his manipulative father, and her heart clenched.
They reached her suite first and stopped outside and Erin felt slightly breathless as she pushed open the door. Inside, low divans were scattered with brocade cushions and the powerful scent of roses wafted through the air.
‘Goodnight,’ she said, thinking how inadequate that word sounded when all she could think about was that he was close enough to touch. Close enough to kiss. So go. Go now—before the cool gleam of his eyes entices you any more and the sensual lines of his lips tempt you into doing something you shouldn’t. But her sandaled feet didn’t move from the spot.
Dimitri stared at the woman in front of him, conscious of the mixed messages she was sending out, and conscious of his own feelings of confusion. He wanted to remember the web of deceit she had woven and to remind himself that she’d told the same lies as his own, dear mother. But the hungry throb of desire which pulsed through his body was far stronger than his reservations. Part of him hated what he was about to do, but he seemed unable to stop himself from stepping onto the inevitable path of seduction. ‘You look beautiful tonight, Erin.’
She looked momentarily nonplussed, as if she wasn’t used to receiving compliments about her looks. ‘Thank you,’ she said, her voice betraying a hint of nerves. ‘I have Sofia to thank for the dress. She has excellent taste.’
‘I don’t want to talk about Sofia’s taste.’
‘No,’ she said, looking as if she was trying to make herself yawn. ‘Actually, it’s very late and I want to go to sleep—’
‘Are you quite sure about that?’ he questioned.
‘About...what? About whether I want to go to sleep?’
‘About what you really want.’ He reached out to touch her cheek. ‘See how you shiver when I touch you?’
‘Maybe I’m cold.’
‘In the desert?’
She licked her lips. ‘Dimitri,’ she whispered. ‘Don’t.’
‘Don’t what? Don’t tell it how it is, when I get the distinct feeling that you want me as much as I want you. Don’t you? I think you want me to kiss you—and God knows I want that, too. You’ve driven me crazy all through dinner. I could barely concentrate on a word the Sheikh was saying because I kept looking at you and thinking how much I longed to touch you.’
His words disarmed her and so did the molten look of desire in his eyes—and Erin was already weakened by her own desire and the stupid vulnerability which his passionate words had stirred up. Was that to blame for what happened next—so quickly and so completely that any other action seemed unthinkable? One minute she was staring at him and trying to summon up the strength to walk away and the next she was in his arms and he was kissing her so hungrily that she thought she gasped, or squealed or something.
Perhaps the sound reminded him that they were on the Sheikh’s territory and the rules governing Jazratan were far stricter than their own, because suddenly Dimitri was levering her into her suite and shutting the door behind them. For a moment she just stared at him with her heart beating wildly beneath the beautiful dress and then he was pushing her up against the wall and kissing her.
One last stab at reason told her to stop him before it was too late, but she simply ignored it, coiling her arms greedily around his neck as he deepened the kiss. Because he was right. Her eyelids flickered to a close as his tongue began to explore her mouth. She did still want him.
For years she’d been yearning for his kiss—not the arrogant mark of possession which had taken place in the register office, but this. A real kiss.
When she’d lain sleepless, with his baby kicking beneath her heart, she had wanted him to hold her tight like this. In those early years of struggle, when she’d discovered that Leo was allergic to peanuts and she’d felt as if she’d been running round chasing her tail, existing on hardly any sleep and far too much black coffee, she had longed for the comfort of a man’s touch.
Dimitri’s touch.
And now she had it—and it was all-consuming. He was driving his lips down hard on hers and she was responding in kind, not just because she felt frustrated and empty or because he was irresistible—it went much deeper than that. Because their cells had mingled when their child had formed inside her and Dimitri had awoken her in so many ways. He had taken her virginity and given her an orgasm and made her pregnant, all during one long night of bliss.
His hands were moving over her body, palms undulating over the narrow curves of waist and hips, as if he were discovering them for the first time. She heard his low growl of pleasure as he brought her up against the growing hardness at his groin, mirrored by the molten rush of heat to her sex. He cupped one of her breasts, curling his fingers over the shiny green material, and her nipple pushed insistently against his palm as she teetered on the brink of giving in to the urgent demands of her body. A couple of minutes more and he would be undressing her. He would be kissing his way over her naked body and she would be urging him on, just like last time.
Until the truth hit her like a bucket of ice water as she realised what he was doing. Once again, she was letting him use her. She had dressed up for dinner and behaved as impeccably as she knew how and he was responding by behaving as if she were nothing more than a decorative object he could take to bed without conscience. As if she were a piece of clay he could mould to his own desires, never stopping to think that she might have feelings—and that he might be trampling all over them.
Tearing her lips away from his, she used all her strength to plant her hands on his shoulders to push him away and he jerked his head back in surprise.
His eyes darkened. ‘What’s wrong?’
She