They pulled up to Nybro Quay. David throttled the engine, hopped ashore, moored the boat, and then held out his hand to her. As soon as she was on solid ground, he let go. They didn’t say anything to each other, and the silence was impossible to read.
“I’ll take you home,” he said tersely, confusing her even more.
They crossed Strandvägen Boulevard in silence. The murmur of voices from all the outdoor restaurant seating faded away as they turned onto her quiet street.
When they stopped outside her front door, Natalia asked, “Did I do something wrong?” Even though she had planned to sound cool and composed, her voice was weak.
Åsa wouldn’t stand for this. She would want to know where she stood. But Natalia had never known and didn’t have any experience to fall back on.
“Is that what you think?” he asked.
Natalia shrugged. The door was just behind her, and she was starting to feel tired and annoyed, as if all the energy had drained out of her. Maybe it was the alcohol, but she just wanted to slip inside, hurry upstairs, and bury her head in a sofa cushion.
David looked at her for a long time.
“What?” she asked testily when the silence started getting on her nerves. Damn it, he was hard to read.
“I was unbelievably self-serving in the beginning,” he said suddenly, and it took a moment to realize he was talking about his career, not about them.
“Venture capitalism is not a line of work that values fair play,” he continued. “I’m not a gentle or a nice person.”
“I grew up with moneymen; I’ve been in that world since I was a baby. Don’t you think I know that?” she said. Her father was hard, her brother was hard. She got that David was no softy.
David slowly raised his hand and then lightly rested it on her cheek. He stroked her cheekbone with his thumb. And then he kissed her.
How could a kiss, just one kiss, be so different from all other kisses?
She heard a sound, unsure whether it had come from her or him, and then his arm came around her waist, and then there wasn’t anything gentle about the kiss, no hesitation, nothing tentative. It was hard and urgent. His leg pressed into her thigh, pushing her backward against the rough façade of the building.
“Would you like to come up?” she whispered.
He stared at her, his chest heaving. Natalia held her breath.
“Yes,” he said.
14
He refused to feel sorry about it. He’d warned her, told her who and what he was. She’d asked if he wanted to come up, he’d said yes, and he was not going to change his mind.
They stood in silence, looking at each other as the aging, creaking elevator took them to the top floor. Neither of them spoke. He watched Natalia’s breasts moving beneath the thick sweater. Her face was serious. The elevator stopped, and David held the door open for her. She took a key out of her purse and unlocked the front door. She stepped to the side and opened her mouth to say something, but David took her face in his hands and kissed her. He had been struggling with himself the whole way. He hadn’t been lying when he said he hadn’t planned this. It was a weekday. He knew she worked hard and took her work seriously. He had to get up early in the morning himself. He hadn’t been lying.
Or had he?
This was an unbelievably bad idea. He was supposed to be breaking his ties with her, not getting to know her better. But the battle within him had already been lost. Maybe he hadn’t put up much of a fight. Maybe he’d never wanted anything other than to follow the poised, graceful Natalia De la Grip home and make love to her.
One night, only one night. Surely that wouldn’t matter?
He kissed her again, hard, so that she panted against his mouth. He slid a hand behind her head, and closed the door with his other hand. And they stood like that in her dark entryway, him with his hand still in her hair, her with her back and palms pressed against the wall as if she were unsure what she wanted.
She was like a pale shadow in the dark entryway. “Let down your hair,” he said hoarsely. Natalia pulled on the pins that were still holding up the loose, windswept knot. One by one she took the hairpins out, and he heard the delicate clink each one made as it fell onto the stone floor. Her hair cascaded down her back as she shook it free. David ran his eyes over her, and then without taking his gaze off her, he ordered: “Take off the pearls.”
She obeyed in silence, slowly undoing the necklace, pulling off her earrings, and setting them on top of the hall cabinet. Her neck was slender and white.
“Good,” he said.
He put a hand on her hip. Her body trembled and she exhaled heavily. Just the sound of her excited breathing would be enough to make him come. But he wanted to come inside her, dominate that strong body, make her cry out much louder than any of these stifled gasps. He pulled her to him.
“It’s been a long time for me, David. I don’t know . . .” she said, leaning against his chest. He brought her hips tighter against his. She pushed herself against him. He was so ready.
“Arms up,” he said and she obeyed again. He pulled the oversized sweater off her, tossed it onto the floor. With his palms low on her back, he drew her to him again, pushing himself into her, letting her feel how hard he was.
“I’ve been thinking about this all evening,” he said, knowing that was the truth. “You were so sexy on the boat.” He moved a hand to the opening of her blouse and spread out his fingers over her breast. The ribs under her thin skin were so slender, so delicate. He tugged on the silk fabric and one button came off. It was covered with fabric and disappeared without a sound. He caressed the side of her neck, curling his fingers lightly around the side of it, let a thumb slide along her jawline. He felt her pulse racing. Her eyes widened, watching him seriously.
He shook his head. “Don’t think.” With one hand he carefully took hold of her chin, and she gasped as his mouth covered her own. He kissed her. She whimpered and put her hand on his chest, as if to stop him.
He stopped. “What?” he said. Had he misjudged her?
“This is moving so fast. I don’t know you, not really.” She breathed in short bursts, searching his face. “Who are you?”
“I’m no one, Natalia,” he said, slowly bringing his hand to her hair. “Just a man who really wants to make love with you tonight.” He hadn’t meant to frighten her. “Don’t be scared,” he murmured quietly, stroking her hair.
Her breathing was audible in the silent apartment. She moved uneasily in his embrace. It was dark in the entryway, and her golden eyes were almost black. He put his hand over hers, the one that was still resting like a gentle restraint against his chest.
“I want you, Natalia,” he said. “What do you want?”
Natalia’s lip curled slightly and he felt her relax a little.
“I don’t usually do this,” she said and then grimaced. “Maybe I shouldn’t have said that.” She smiled. “Even if it’s the truth.”
“That doesn’t matter,” David responded with a wink. “Because I do it all the time.”
She laughed and then smiled, genuinely and almost boldly. She said, “I invited you up. I want this. And I have, um, protection.”
She put both her hands on his chest and slid in against him. David looked at the top of her head, her dark hair as she leaned against his chest, smelled the exotic scent of spices and some kind of wood.
He didn’t need to feel guilty, he told himself. Natalia wanted this. They were adults; this was just sex, nothing more. She had said it herself: they didn’t know each other. They could share one night without it affecting them on any deeper level. They would both enjoy it. It was completely uncomplicated. In her apartment they were just a man and a woman, nothing more. And he really wanted to make it good for her.
He slowly bent down—giving her a chance to pull away if she wanted. But Natalia tipped her face up and eagerly answered his kiss this time, pressing against him and throwing her arms around his neck. If she’d been afraid before, that
had subsided now, he thought, meeting her hungry mouth, her bold kisses. She was a passionate woman, animated in his embrace.
He ran his fingers through her dark hair. It was as soft as mink fur and long, much longer than he’d thought. He gathered up a fistful and gently pulled her head back. She moaned, a muffled sound well back in her throat, and his body responded reflexively and intensely. With his hand still buried in her hair, he scanned the enormous entry hall. He preferred to think of himself as somewhat more sophisticated than a man who had sex with a woman just inside her front door. “Show me the rest of the place,” he said.
Natalia looked at him, her eyes smoldering, her lips slightly swollen. Then she took his hand in her own cool one. She led him down the hall, and he smiled at how easily she took charge. She was used to deciding, to being in control. It was going to be an interesting night.
They passed doors, paintings, and mirrors. And more doors.
“How big is this place?” he asked, stifling a laugh.
She turned a corner and then stepped out into an enormous living room. Extremely tall, open French doors led onto a balcony. This room was just as dark as the rest of the apartment, and cool air poured in.
“I can close the doors,” Natalia offered.
“No,” he said. “I want to see the view.”
They stepped out onto the balcony together.
She had a view of both Djurgården, the vast green area belonging to the king, and the Djurgårdsbrunn Canal down by Strandvägen Boulevard. When she shivered, he pulled her toward him. He caressed one breast through her thin blouse. She had small, sensitive breasts, and with a shudder, she closed her eyes. He kissed her again while he started unbuttoning her slacks. When he pulled the zipper down, her breathing sped up. He slid his hand over the gentle dome of her stomach and she pushed herself against him. He ran his finger along the thin edge of her panties. Her panties were so sheer that he could have easily torn them. He caressed her through the lace. She was warm and damp. She was wet. He pulled away the cloth, slid in a finger. She wasn’t waxed, which he liked. “You’re so hot,” he whispered and playfully bit her earlobe.
Natalia moaned at his touch and pushed herself against his hand.
“Where do you keep them?” he asked.
“I’ll get them,” she said. “Wait here.”
He stepped back into the living room. Her two sofas were long and deep, her décor tasteful and antique, surely inherited.
She came back, her slender body glowing inside her half-open silk blouse. She had taken off her slacks, and her legs were powerful and extremely pale. She held out her hand and passed him the thin box with an embarrassed smile. He studied it. It hardly looked like it had been opened. Apparently she really meant it that she didn’t do this very often. He wondered if she’d been with anyone since her fiancé. He tried to remember how long it had been since that relationship ended. A year ago? The information he’d read about her hadn’t mentioned any new love interests.
They cooperated to undo the last of the fabric-covered buttons on her blouse before he swept it off her. She was wearing a lacy bra underneath, a glossy little number that he thought must be one of the expensive ones she collected.
“You undo it,” he said, afraid he would damage the thin fabric if he tried to do it.
Natalia brought her hands behind her back and undid the hooks. She watched him hesitantly, her hands over the fabric and her breasts. But he was impatient now. Her coyness set his blood racing.
“I want to see,” he commanded. “Move your hands.”
Slowly she complied. She had small but perfectly rounded breasts, with small, dark nipples. “You’re unbelievably beautiful,” he said hoarsely. When he placed his hand over one small breast, his palm covered it completely. He moved his hand, caressing her, and she moaned hoarsely. God, how he loved women with sensitive breasts.
She started untucking his T-shirt and they took it off together. He placed his hands on her upper arms while she ran her hands over his torso. Her hands were delicate, and he closed his eyes as she explored his body.
It seemed to happen so fast, he was caught off guard when she leaned forward and ran her hands around behind his back. He didn’t have a chance to stop her, and now he didn’t want to make a big deal about it. But he stiffened under her touch, steeling himself. He never let anyone touch him there.
Natalia’s brow wrinkled. She ran her hand questioningly over the roughness on his back, and he could feel her trying to make sense of what her fingertips were feeling. But he didn’t say anything, didn’t want her to understand. He pulled away. “Not now,” he said, fending off her questions.
She gave him a curious look. “But David, you . . .”
He held onto her shoulders and cautiously pushed her back. “Not now.”
Natalia blinked. “Okay,” she said quietly.
He studied her, standing there. She was a fascinating mix of modesty and sensuality. She was slim, but still curvy with her rounded belly, her narrow waist, and her soft hips.
He undressed himself until he was naked. Her eyes widened, and then she quickly pulled off her panties and stepped into his arms.
Her skin was smooth, like polished ivory, soft as silk. He held her head and kissed her. She pushed against him, and he lifted her one leg and placed it around his hip. Somehow they ended up on the sofa, him half lying on his back, her astride him. He found the condom package, opened it, and quickly slid one on.
They looked into each other’s eyes, and then he lifted her up by the hips, grasped her, and took her in a single motion. Natalia fell forward onto his chest with a shout, inhaling in a gasp. Her dark hair fell around him like a scented silk curtain.
David lifted her head and looked into her foggy eyes. “Is this alright?” he asked with difficulty. He’d almost come. She was hot and wet, but she was small and tight, and the friction and the sight were almost overwhelming.
Natalia nodded. “Just let me get used to it,” she said faintly. “It’s really been a while.”
David took hold of her buttocks, one hand around each cheek, and lifted her carefully upward. She put a hand on his chest, the other on his thigh behind her. Slowly, with his eyes locked on hers, he let her slide down again, seeing in her eyes how he filled her. She was breathing heavily, and he repeated the motion until she too adopted the rhythm.
“Wonderful,” he said, his voice muffled, seeing that she was far away. She slowly closed her eyes and let her head fall back until her dark hair grazed his legs. Up and down, with slippery, wet sounds, moans and whimpers.
David came.
Without style or consideration, he exploded. It happened so fast, and he wasn’t able to stop himself, so instead he took a firm hold of her hips—she would have marks from his fingers, he thought foggily—and held her down until he filled her and held her there and just came in wave after pulsing wave. He closed his eyes and collapsed back onto the sofa.
When he opened his eyes again, the living room was still dark. His eyes had adjusted, though, and he saw her clearly. With her long hair and those big eyes, she looked young and vulnerable. And sexy as hell. She moved her legs, and he realized she was still on top of him, that he was still inside her. It had been totally amazing for him, but he had left her unsatisfied.
He grimaced. “I’m sorry,” he said.
“For what?” she asked.
But David knew that she hadn’t experienced the same climax he had. So much for pleasuring her. He stroked her thigh. “Normally, I’m able to control myself better,” he said, sounding pained. “I don’t know what happened.”
She started squirming. “It doesn’t matter,” she said half-heartedly.
David shook his head.
He lifted her off and gently laid her down on the soft sofa. He took a pillow and placed it under her head. He brushed her hair to the side, leaned down, and kissed her, tenderly this time. Chilly air was still streaming in from the French doors, so he retrieved a throw from an armc
hair, kissed both her nipples, and then spread it over her.
“What are you doing?” she mumbled, studying him through her long, dark eyelashes.
“I’m pampering you,” he said. “Would you like anything to drink?”
“Not really,” she replied. “But there’s vodka in the freezer if you want some.”
“Vodka,” he said with a smile. “What else? Stay here.”
David went out to the kitchen, and Natalia squirmed on the sofa. She was unsatisfied. Not that she normally came with particularly impressive frequency, but she’d been close and now it was over. She closed her eyes. She supposed she wasn’t exactly disappointed; it had been really amazing, but . . . Yes—but.
“Natalia?”
He stood in the doorway with a frosty bottle of Stolichnaya and two plain glasses in his hand. He sat down next to her on the sofa, poured the vodka, and handed her one glass. “Cheers,” he said.
“Nah zdarovya,” she replied, and then they drank in silence. The liquor was viscously cold. She rarely drank vodka—her brother Alex had forgotten the bottle at her place at some point—but she liked the burning sensation in her stomach.
She studied David over the rim of her glass. She had never met a man who could sit naked on a sofa and yet still seem like he was in total command of the room.
He set down his glass. Slowly he ran his hand over her leg, brushing the soft throw aside. Natalia closed her eyes and let herself be swept away by the sensation. He had such incredible hands, strong and sure. He massaged her feet, her calves.
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