by Sarah Morgan
‘Damon—’ She moaned his name as he cupped her breast with his hand, the rough pad of his thumb grazing over her nipple. ‘Honestly, we can’t—’ She gasped as he drew her against him and restraint and common sense melted in a warm puddle of molten desire. ‘Or maybe we can.’ Her arms were round his neck, pulling him down to her as he pulled her in. ‘Just tell me quickly—are you about to walk away again?’
‘No chance.’ His hands were sure and bold as they slid down her back. ‘Neither are you.’
‘Good, because if you stop this time I just might have to kill you.’
Her hands were inside his shirt, her fingers sliding slowly over warm male skin. His body was lean and muscled but that came as no surprise because she already knew he was strong. What surprised her was the complexity and depth, the emotions that flickered under the cool, controlled surface he presented to the world.
When she’d kissed him earlier, his guard had slipped. For a fleeting moment he’d lost his grip on that rigid control that characterised the way he lived his life. The fact that she was the one who’d slid under those defences intensified the excitement.
They kissed with a searing, primitive hunger that burned up logic and caution, their mouths greedy, seeking, hot as they feasted, lost in the burning fire of the moment. The world centred on the two of them. She was no longer aware of the city that stretched beneath her, or the warm whisper of the night breeze. All she was aware of was him—this man who kissed her as if he understood everything about who she was and what she needed.
She’d never understood how sex could drive people to make foolish decisions. Until now.
When he lifted her in an easy movement and carried her from her small terrace through to the master bedroom suite, she simply tightened her arms around his neck and kept on kissing him. Paris sparkled through the windows but neither of them spared the city a single glance.
As he lowered her gently to the centre of the enormous bed, she pushed his shirt off his shoulders and he shrugged it away. The swell of muscle in his shoulders bunched as he supported his weight and came down on top of her, the movement so innately masculine that her breath caught.
Even though part of her hated to admit it, the physical power of him was part of the attraction. Dark and handsome, he was unequivocally male, every touch and kiss assured and confident as he dragged her into a whole new world of dangerous desire.
As his warm, clever mouth trailed down her body Polly writhed against the silk sheets, her body gripped by such intense excitement that she couldn’t keep still. The need to move her hips was almost painful and she writhed and shifted until she felt his strong hands grasp her, holding her captive. Deprived of the only means of easing the burning ache between her thighs, she gave a murmur of protest—a murmur that turned to a gasp as he spread her thighs and used his mouth on her, the skilled flick of his tongue driving her into a frenzy of desperation. It was impossibly intimate but she didn’t even care, and she surrendered to the feeling, mindless to everything except the pleasure he created and controlled. The excitement built and spread until it exploded in a bright burst of light, her climax so extraordinarily intense that she couldn’t breathe.
As consciousness gradually seeped back into her spinning head she opened her eyes, but she had no time to recover before he moved up her body and kissed her. Sensation after sensation slammed into her and she wondered dimly how it was possible to want someone this much. It was a devouring hunger, a greed she’d never before imagined, and this time she took control as she pushed at his chest and rolled. She was aware that he was far too strong to be pushed anywhere he didn’t want to go but it was clear he was willing to play her game and he rolled onto his back, his eyes glittering dark as he watched her from under those thick black lashes.
As she kissed her way down his body she heard him groan and then mutter something in Greek, something she didn’t understand but which told her he was as carried away by the moment as she was. Relishing her own power, she slid her mouth over the velvet length of him, using her tongue and her lips to drive him wild until he groaned and lifted her towards him.
‘I want you. Now.’
In the grip of the same desperation, Polly moved up his body and straddled him. His need to be in control seemed to have left him and she positioned herself over him, her nerve-endings sizzling with awareness as she felt his swollen hardness brush against her. His eyes narrowed to two dangerous slits, he closed his hands around her hips and thrust upwards. Sure and confident, he drove into her and she gave a soft gasp at the feel of him as he surged deep. Just for a moment she thought He’s too big, but then he paused, his fingers biting into her flesh as he held her where he wanted her.
‘You’re incredibly tight. Relax, agape mou—’
She couldn’t relax. Her body was on fire, the power of his invasion momentarily shocking her out of the sexual trance that had held her in its grip.
His gaze sharpened and the beginnings of a frown touched his brow. ‘Theé mou, have you ever—?’
Polly cut his sentence off with her mouth, nibbling at his lips, stroking with her tongue, until the unspoken question turned into a kiss that blew away the unexpected tension. Shivering with longing, she lifted mouth from his so that she could look at him, her breathing rapid as she rocked her hips, taking him deep. This time as he surged into her he watched her, and that depth of connection increased the chemistry until she knew on some deep, subliminal level that this was so much more than just physical pleasure. It was the most erotic, intimate experience of her life. Sensation built and clawed at her until he drove them both over the edge and the explosion of ecstasy ripped through them both simultaneously. Wave after wave of it slammed into her until she collapsed against him, the only sound in the room the breath tearing at her throat.
She felt the pounding of his heart and then his arms tightened around her, his hand gently stroking the length of her spine. He didn’t speak, but she knew he was as shocked as she was.
Lying there in the circle of his arms, Polly felt a surge of raw terror.
Oh, God, what had she done?
Not the sex—although she’d shocked herself and very probably she’d shocked Damon, too. No, what really terrified her was the intensity of emotion that had accompanied the physical. The connection, the closeness—they were the things she’d spent her life avoiding.
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.
That whole striptease had been his undoing.
Striding into the bathroom, he stepped into the shower, hoping that a blast of freezing water would cool his body and his brain.
He needed to stop feeling and think.
As if his life wasn’t already complicated enough, he’d now complicated it still further. It wasn’t just the situation between his sister and her father, or even the fact that she now worked for him and he made a point of never becoming involved with an employee. No, the real complication was that he didn’t want a serious relationship. There was no way he wanted to be responsible for yet another human being’s happiness. It was enough to have the burden of thousands of employees and one wayward sister. He didn’t need anyone else added into the mix.
Damon turned the jets of the shower to full blast, knowing that the only way to deal with the situation was to be blunt. Honest.
The question was whether it was better to do it immediately, and risk subjecting himself to the company of an emotional female for the journey home, or whether to delay that conversation until they reached London and he could extricate himself from the fall-out with greater ease.
It was going to make it impossible to work with her, and it was clear to him that, despite his previous thoughts, she was a key player in the business. He suspected that Gérard’s devotion to her was as much due to her creative imagination as her long legs.
Postponing the moment when he had to shatter Polly’s romantic illusions, he shaved, dressed and dealt with his urgent calls. By the time he’d returned calls to people in London and Athens there was still no sign of her.
After the intimacies they’d shared the night before, he was surprised.
His jaw tightened and he tried to free himself of the uncomfortable suspicion that she’d been a virgin. Twenty-four-year-old virgins didn’t exist, did they? Especially not virgins who seduced a man with a striptease and then proceeded to indulge in hot, steamy sex without a single blush or bat of an eyelash.
Dismissing the thought, he strode through the apartment in search of her.
Theé mou, he wasn’t a man who avoided awkward situations. He just did what needed to be done, so why was he dragging his feet?
Even though he reminded himself that she’d been a more than willing partner, he still felt a sense of responsibility. He’d started it, hadn’t he? By kissing her.
It was time to put an end to something he never should have started.
He found her seated on the balcony, talking to someone on the phone while she plugged numbers into a spreadsheet on her laptop.
Damon studied her face for evidence of distress but she looked animated and energised as she negotiated a price with someone on the end of the phone.
When she finally ended the call she was so absorbed in the work she was doing she didn’t immediately notice him. Looking at her now, he wondered how he could ever have accused her of being lazy. It was obvious she’d been working for hours.
‘Don’t you ever sleep?’
She glanced up then, her cheeks dimpling into a warm smile. ‘You’re a fine one to talk. I hear your average working day is twenty hours.’
‘I’m the boss.’
‘So you’re setting an example? Never mind that. I’m glad you’re here because I really need to talk to you.’ She hit ‘save’ and Damon drew in a breath, bracing himself for the inevitable conversation.
She looked so happy. Lit up inside.
It was obvious she’d succumbed to that dizzy, crazy feeling that came at the beginning of a new relationship.
No doubt she was plotting out their future as women always did. And he was about to take those plans and shatter them. This was why he avoided responsibilities. He never forgot that the fear of letting down the people close to him was what had driven his father over the edge of despair.
Sweat broke out on the back of his neck. ‘Polly—’
‘Can you take a quick look at this?’ She turned the laptop so that he could see the screen. Her hair was pinned haphazardly on top of her head and she was wearing a dress in a wild shade of purple. Her pink notebook lay face-down on the table. ‘I’ve prepared two proposals—one for a massive budget and one for a shockingly massive budget.’ She gave a wicked smile. ‘I’m hoping that Gérard will be so impressed by the ideas he won’t look at how much they’re costing. What do you think? You know him better than me—if you think I’ve gone over the top then just say so. I suddenly decided that we might be able to do something in Fashion Week so I’ve made a few calls.’
Her focus on work threw him. ‘You want me to look at the budget? That’s what you wanted to talk about?’
‘Yes.’ Her eyes were back on the screen as she reached for the glass of water she’d placed on the table. ‘Ideally I’d like to e-mail this today while he’s still excited about everything we discussed. I don’t want him to back down on that figure he mentioned last night. If this piece of business is going to be worth that much to the company, there’s no way you’ll have to make the staff redundant.’
Braced for an entirely different conversation, Damon
couldn’t focus. ‘I’ll take a look at your proposal later.’
‘Do you think you could do it now? When I get back to the office I want to be able to gather the team together and give them a morale-boosting talk. I thought after last night you’d find it impossible to justify doing something so mean as letting anyone go.’
‘After last night?’ He repeated her words, shocked by the raw emotion that rushed through him. ‘You think the fact that we had sex will affect my business decisions?’
Her jaw dropped. ‘I was talking about the meeting with Gérard.’
Of course. The meeting. Damon pressed his fingers to the bridge of his nose, realising that he was in serious trouble. ‘We are having two different conversations here.’
‘I think we must be.’ She looked genuinely astonished. ‘I’m having a conversation about the staff. I can’t concentrate on anything or enjoy my work when I’m watching my back and worrying about job losses. I just want that sorted. What are you having a conversation about?’
His eyes dropped to her mouth and his body tightened as he remembered how she tasted. The fact that she was thinking about her staff and not the night they’d spent threw him. Normally after a night of steamy sex women wanted to know what was going to happen next. They went into full planning mode. Polly appeared to have skipped that ritual and was just making the assumption that they were already a couple.
‘You’re very chirpy for someone who had virtually no sleep,’ he said cautiously. ‘I thought you weren’t a morning person.’
‘I didn’t think I was either.’ She leaned forward and changed a figure on the spreadsheet. ‘But apparently a night of crazy sex does wonders to wake me up. I wish I’d known sooner. I would have done it years ago. It’s probably better for you than strong coffee.’