Doukakis's Apprentice (14 page)

And then she stepped away.

Disorientated, unbalanced by her unexpected withdrawal, it took Damon a moment to absorb the fact that she’d retreated. He stretched out a hand to haul her back but she was already out of reach, those beautiful eyes unreadable as she slowly and deliberately slid the straps of her top back up to her shoulders.

His mind in lockdown, he struggled to speak. ‘What are you doing?’

‘I’m resisting chemistry. It’s called self-discipline.’ In a husky voice, she threw his words right back at him. ‘You just have to say no. Isn’t that right, Damon? Just because you’re insanely good at kissing, that doesn’t give you the right to make a fool of me. Don’t
ever
do that again.’ In a single graceful movement she retrieved her clothes and turned to walk towards the second bedroom. ‘Sleep well.’

P
OLLY
leaned over her private section of balcony, sucking in air and trying to lower her blood pressure. Her entire body screamed with frustration, and she didn’t know whether to plunge under a cold shower or pull on her running shoes and pound the streets of Paris.

She dug her hands into her hair but that just reminded her of the moment he’d done the same thing so she folded her arms instead and paced backwards and forwards, breathing deeply.

Of all the stupid things to do.

What on earth had possessed her? She’d been running on adrenaline, on such a high after the success of her meeting with Gérard that she’d virtually danced along the streets of Paris. And, yes, it had felt
good
to witness the moment Damon had finally realised just what an enormous contribution she made to the company. But that didn’t explain why she’d suddenly performed the equivalent of a pole dance in the middle of his hotel suite.

Wondering how on earth she was going to face him again, she covered her face with her hands. Perhaps it had been seeing all those lovers holding hands and kissing. Paris was a city for lovers. Romance. Or maybe it was just about pride.

All evening she’d been simmering, really angry that he’d made such a fool of her.

Her hands dropped and she swallowed hard.

In walking away from her earlier, he’d proved that he was
firmly in control. She’d wanted to hit back—to snap that control.

And she had.

But now she was the one paying the price.

Yes, she’d proved her point and walked away, but her body was on fire and the way she was feeling was driving her crazy. If this was how chemistry felt then no wonder people behaved stupidly.

‘Polly—’

Hearing his rough voice, she whirled round and saw him standing there. His shirt gaped where she’d ripped at his buttons and his eyes were an intense, unfathomable black in a face taut with tension.

‘Get out of here.’ The words stuck to her dry mouth and she licked her lips, trying not to think about the way it felt to kiss him. Her own self-control was non-existent and she hated him for that. ‘We’re even.’

‘Kissing me was your idea of punishment?’

‘You kissed me to prove a point. I was doing the same thing.’ Except that it had backfired. Disturbed by the look in his eyes, she a step backwards, terrified and fascinated in equal measure. ‘You’re the one who started this.’

‘I know. I accept full responsibility—and you’re right to be angry. It was a selfish, careless thing to do—’ he slid his hand into her hair and cupped the back of her head, drawing her towards him ‘—and I apologise.’ His soft words threw her because she hadn’t thought him capable of apology any more than she’d thought him capable of gentleness. And that gentleness was all the more seductive because it came from a man for whom strength and self-assurance was the norm.

The intimacy of the moment wrapped itself around her like a thousand invisible strands drawing them together. It was a connection she didn’t understand and therefore couldn’t fight.

The whole of Paris was spread beneath them like a glittering magic carpet, the air scented by the flowers that tumbled from the pots that turned the terrace into an exotic rooftop garden. As a setting, it couldn’t have been more romantic.

And she didn’t want romantic.

She’d seen what ‘romantic’ did to people and suddenly she was terrified. Why the hell had she kissed him? After that first time she should have known that it was dangerous—stupid. He’d made her feel something she’d never felt and didn’t want to feel.

‘OK, you’ve said sorry and that’s great—fine—now you can leave. Preferably right now because I can’t breathe properly when you’re standing this close.’ She lifted her hand to his chest and encountered hard muscle and a man who clearly wasn’t going to budge. ‘Seriously, Damon, let’s just forget the whole thing and—oh, God—’ The sudden pressure of his mouth on hers silenced the rest of her sentence and she moaned indistinctly as his tongue swept into her mouth, the erotic invasion sending her head into a crazy spin and her senses into freefall. Sexual excitement flashed through her, ignited by the skill of his kiss and the sure strength of his hands on her body.

‘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.