by Dani Collins
And when they were almost naked, he gathered her against his hard chest with arms that trembled and said, “I’ve missed you, Natalie.”
“I can tell,” she teased, trying to lighten the mood because she was so moved. She shifted a hand between them so she could caress the fierce muscle straining between them.
He closed his hand over hers, stilling her with a firm crush of his grip over hers. Then he caught her other hand and drew both her arms behind her so he could manacle her wrists. “My turn,” he warned, fingertips playing against the lace triangle at the front of her panties, making her flinch with sensitivity. “Uh-uh,” he scolded. “Stand still.”
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.
As for relating to kids, okay, he didn’t have the first idea, but Natalie was a two-for-one package, so he was going to have to figure it out. The one thing he couldn’t be was too self-centered and inflexible to try. He really would be his father if he couldn’t live with a child who didn’t carry his own DNA.
Still, as casual and confident as he tried to appear about the whole thing, Natalie must have sensed his tension because she was very quiet on the drive, only speaking to point out a landmark or give him directions.
It was pretty countryside with rolling hills and churches nestled back in the trees and icicles hanging in claws from rocky escarpments. He could see why she was willing to let her daughter get away into this kind of fresh air and natural surroundings.
They arrived at a farmhouse where an older woman swept blown snow off the porch and Zoey threw a stick for a midsize mutt in the trampled snow.
Natalie introduced him to Claudette, who said she’d go in to put on fresh coffee, then she introduced him to Zoey, whose hair was covered with a crooked hat that Natalie called a toque when she straightened it.
“Grandma was going to take me to the barn to see the kittens. Do you like kittens?” Zoey asked, leaning way back to see his face.
“Who doesn’t?” he asked, wondering if that was too glib. Frivolous banter was his fallback, but maybe you took a kid more seriously.
“Uncle Frank,” she answered innocently. “They make him sneeze. C’mon. There’s five. Like me.”
“There’s five of her?” Demitri mused to Natalie as they followed.
“You’ll start to think so,” she assured him, slanting a look up at him that told him she was reserving judgment, but watching closely.
He refused to be daunted. Surely Zoey couldn’t be harder to schmooze than the average sociopathic celebrity demanding VIP treatment.
She wasn’t. It turned out fine. Better than fine. They wandered the farm with her for almost an hour, admired the snowman she’d made with her cousins, located all the kittens in the barn and learned their names, waited while she gathered eggs and listened attentively when she explained each step of how her grandmother had turned the alpaca’s fur into the matching hat and sweater she wore.
“You’re being very patient,” Natalie commented as they followed Zoey to the house.
He was startled by the remark, since he had yet to reach for any patience. He was here to meet the girl and he’d been getting to know what made her tick. She was five. He didn’t expect her to discuss the day’s stock-market numbers. She knew more about fish and hockey than a lot of the blowhards he’d met over the years and either laughed at his jokes or didn’t get it and said something bemusing, which made him chuckle.
“I’m waiting for the hard part to start,” he responded, indicating his watch. “It’s been forty minutes and she hasn’t asked for drugs, thrown a television off a balcony or gone viral on the internet with a nude selfie.”
She snickered. “And that was just the one teen pop star?”
“Everyone always thought I was partying with them. I was trying to keep the lawsuits to a minimum.”
They stayed for coffee and it was relaxed and easy. Claudette was one of those earth-mother sorts who made him feel at home immediately, not asking nosy questions or seeming overly curious about his relationship with Natalie. She projected warm acceptance, and he could see why Natalie treasured her.
Zoey colored at the table between him and Natalie as the grown-ups talked, at one point asking, “Mom, do you want to help me?”
Demitri gave in to temptation and picked up a crayon. He hadn’t messed around with them in years and the smell took him back to his own childhood, when Adara had tried to keep him quiet with drawing projects. He was missing work, he realized. There had been a part of him holding his breath as he and Natalie had looked at properties yesterday. Zoey had been the unknown quantity, but now he was beginning to see her as part of the broader picture, and felt more certainty he was making the right choice.
“Is that me?” Zoey asked, pausing her own coloring to watch.
He was showing off, sketching Zoey in primary colors. It was a shameless bid to win her affection, but where he thought the endgame was winning Natalie’s, he found himself inordinately pleased by Zoey’s “That’s one for the fridge!”
Later that night, when Natalie showed him to the door, shadows edged her gaze as she asked a very weighty “Well?”
“Well, what?” he asked, deliberately obtuse. “Am I resentful that I’m being kicked out to a hotel? Just disappointed. I said I’d respect your boundaries where she’s concerned and I will.”
“That’s not what I meant.”
“I know what you meant.” He stole a light kiss. “I’ll be back tomorrow.”
CHAPTER NINE
GOING TO NEW YORK was a step back into the fantasy world of Paris, which scared her. And she really should have seen the signs.
“Which one?” she’d asked, holding up two dresses from her closet. One was a very sophisticated blue cocktail dress she’d bought at a consignment store. The other was the black dress she’d worn on their first date.
“You’re adorable,” he’d replied with a shake of his head, going back to the travel arrangements he’d been making on his tablet. “I’ll buy you something in New York,” he had added in an aside.
“We could have shopped last weekend,” she’d protested, but began to understand why even Montreal’s excellent shopping wasn’t good enough for him after he’d flown them in a chartered plane to New York and had shown them into his screamingly sophisticated penthouse.
How had she forgotten how rich he was?
They had spent the week having Parisian trysts in the afternoons before Zoey came home from school, then Natalie had cooked dinner for all of them. After a lifetime of catering to spoiled guests, one decently disciplined five-year-old was a piece of cake for Demitri. Zoey was quickly becoming one more female caught in the net of his effortless charisma. And so was Natalie, because he spent time on Zoey, not money, listening to her stories about school friends and playing games with her after her bath. The evenings had been domestic and nice.
And somehow Natalie had forgotten that even though Demitri might not have a real j
ob at the moment, his family owned a worldwide chain of five-star hotels. He had a trust fund, an investment broker he talked to a few times a week and one of those credit cards without a limit. Also a top-floor apartment bigger than her house. With a pool.
“That’s a lot of windows,” Zoey had said when they’d entered his home, craning her neck up the twenty feet of panes that made Demitri’s flat seem as if it occupied a place among the constellations. “You have a lot of books, too.”
“I do,” he’d agreed. “I’ve even read most of them, which I imagine surprises your mother. Have a look around. Don’t go outside without me, though.”
Zoey had run off to explore, but Natalie hadn’t needed to catalogue the professional decor or the signatures on the paintings or eyeball the view from the terrace. She’d already been suffering a fresh set of panic as she had seen a brand-new reason his family might have no desire to see her at their little dinner. Peasant stock did not belong here.
Except it wasn’t just a little dinner, she found out over breakfast.
Eggs benedict, strawberry waffles and pastries had magically appeared while she’d been trying to figure out Demitri’s espresso machine. Zoey thought it was Christmas when the whipping cream came out of the delivery bin.
“How do you feel about dinosaurs, Zoey? I thought we’d visit the Natural History Museum today,” Demitri said when they sat down to eat.
“Oh, that sounds fun,” Natalie enthused. “I’ve always wanted to go there.”
“I’m afraid I’ll have to take you another time.” He stabbed a hash brown off her plate. “You have an appointment at the spa.”
“Do I?” she said, lifting her chin in dismay.
“You’re also meeting with a stylist.”
“Is there something wrong with the way I look?”
“Not at all. Wear what you like. But I’ll be in a tuxedo and all the other women will be in gowns. I thought you would prefer one.”