Innocent in the Ivory Tower (7 page)

She wanted to cry, but she couldn’t show that weakness.

She had just made the biggest fool of herself in the history of her life, and now a man who couldn’t stand her—moreover a man who was an utter pig of an unreconstructed idiot, who couldn’t see simple truths if they hit him in the face—was carrying her into …

His bedroom. Maisy’s heartbeat sped up despite the pain.

And wasn’t this what you were hoping for at the beginning of the night, Maisy Edmonds?
a little voice niggled at her.

His bed was large and plain and masculine, with expensive dark blue linen. Fresh sheets, she registered. Had he been planning to seduce her here? Everything he had said to her came home, and she knew with every inch of her body she didn’t want to be in here. It was too humiliating.

She began to struggle. ‘Put me down. Put me down
now
!’

He was forced to release her and she slid to her feet, holding her arm folded over her chest. It was throbbing, but she had no intention of playing victim.

Alexei didn’t say a word. He just made a phone call whilst she stood there, not sure what to do. He finished the call. ‘A doctor’s coming up to the house,’ he said heavily. ‘Where is the pain coming from?’

‘I don’t know. I think I jarred it,’ she answered, swallowing hard. ‘I’ll go and wait in my room, if you don’t mind.’

‘Maisy, you had a nasty fall. Lie down here and let yourself to be checked out, okay?’

It sounded so reasonable, and the pain was pumping through
her body. But she kept seeing the look on his face when she’d told him the truth about the Kulikovs. It shouldn’t matter so much, but it did.

In the end the pain won out and she sat down awkwardly on his bed. Alexei did something surprising. He dropped to one knee and reached for her foot, sliding off one shoe and then the other. There was something about seeing him silent on his knees in front of her that made her say, ‘It’s not your fault I fell. I did that to myself.’

‘How’s your arm?’ he asked quietly, not making a move.

‘I think it’s going numb,’ she said in a small voice.

‘You landed at a bad angle.’ He lifted his hand, hesitated, and then gently smoothed the tangle of curls that had been disturbed and now fell over one side of her face. Maisy swallowed. ‘I’d give you some painkillers, but I think we should wait until the doctor has a look.’

‘Okay.’ The truth was she didn’t want to be alone—not when her body felt as if it was in shock. And it wasn’t only the fall. The implications of everything he had thrown at her were beginning to sink in.

The doctor was an urbane older man who clearly knew Alexei. He was scrupulously polite to Maisy as he examined her shoulder and prescribed painkillers, which he handed over to Alexei with instructions. Nothing was broken. Sleep and time would heal her.

‘I’m a fraud,’ she said tiredly. ‘Nothing broken after all.’

Alexei sat down beside her on the bed. ‘Take these, Maisy,’ he said, and pressed two white pills against her lips.

More physical proximity she couldn’t handle. Maisy drew them in with her tongue, brushing against his fingers, blushing. He’d think she was coming on to him.

He poured a little water into her mouth and she swallowed them down. His thumb lingered on her bottom lip and Maisy gazed back at him, startled, feeling heavy and tired and numb. She shifted awkwardly as the boning in her bodice dug hard.

‘I need to get my dress off,’ she said uncomfortably. ‘I can’t sleep in it.’

‘Right.’ He reached behind her, his fingers starting on the dozen tiny fabric buttons. His touch whispered down her back and Maisy shut her eyes, wishing everything was different. ‘That’s the problem with couture,’ he said in a deep voice. ‘No zips.’

‘Anais gave it to me. I didn’t know it was couture,’ answered Maisy dully. ‘I never looked.’

She caught her bodice with her good arm as the dress sprung free. She sat there, huddled in it, looking anxiously over her shoulder at him.

‘If you turn your back I can stand up and drop it and then get into bed,’ she explained awkwardly. She waited miserably for him to make some crack about it being a lousy attempt to seduce him.

Instead he said quietly, ‘Of course.’

He was so formal she could only stare at him as he stood up and turned his back.

Maisy got off the bed and dropped the frock. Self-consciously she stepped out of the dress and kicked it away, shifting back onto the bed, pulling the cover up to her neck.

‘Thank you,’ she said awkwardly.

The pillow felt blissful beneath her head. She could feel the drugs beginning to take effect. Alexei scooped up her beautiful dress.

‘I’ll leave you now,’ he said, in that oddly formal way. ‘If you need anything just call out. I’m in the room across the hall.’

Maisy closed her eyes, damming up the tears that were brimming. She sensed the moment the lights went out.

‘This wasn’t how I envisaged the end of our evening,’ she heard him say in a low voice from across the room.

I know
, she thought miserably.

M
AISY
opened her eyes in the vast bed to a low-grade headache and a great deal of self-recrimination as the memory of last night swamped her. She thrust her head under the pillow.

Of
his
bed.

She bolted upright, panic setting in as she realised she didn’t have a shred of clothing to wear. She was trapped in his bed in her lacy knickers. After everything he had said to her last night the last thing she wanted was to be accused of angling for sex. Because that was what he’d come out and accused her of—being some sort of bimbo on the make, cavorting in couture. Ridiculous as that was.

Oh, Lord, where was her dress? The last she’d seen of it he had been carrying it away with him. Surely there were some clothes in this room?

Wrapping her arms across her bare breasts, she ran to some double doors. They opened onto a walk-in wardrobe and she spotted his shirts immediately, grabbing the nearest one and sliding her injured arm carefully into one sleeve, then the other. She had trouble with the left side buttonholes, but eventually got it done up decently enough. The shirt tails dangled almost to her knees. She went into the bathroom and washed the raccoon make-up off her face, running a hand through her unruly hair. She had to admit she didn’t look that bad, all things considered, and the pain in her shoulder was now just a dull ache that should fade in a day or two.

All that had really got hurt last night was her pride.

Other thoughts intruded now. She remembered how gentle he had been with her when he’d realised she was hurt, how he had looked after her and how good that had felt. She had made the mistake of opening up to him a little, but he didn’t want to hear it. She needed to remember that. Leo’s death was still too raw for him. Only the knowledge that Alexei’s feelings for his friend ran that deep gave her any comfort this morning, and that was in regards to Kostya.

As for what he had said in regards to
them
, she probably should thank him. At least now she wouldn’t make an idiot of herself over him. He wasn’t going to kiss her again. He might have—he might have done a great many things. Until she opened her big mouth and brought up Leo and Anais. Now he thought she was a liar, and apparently angling to be a kept woman. If it wasn’t so offensive she would be laughing about it. Damn him, he owed her an apology.

Maisy glared at her reflection. She was going to get one.

Alexei felt like twenty kinds of bastard this morning as he pulled on a pair of jeans and nothing else.

He’d been so focussed on sexual conquest last night he’d barely appreciated Maisy’s company, but a long night with only his thoughts had replayed her laughter and her absurd commentary about his lifestyle and made him sorry he hadn’t tried to open her up a little more. But he’d closed all that down, slinging insults at her as she just sat there, completely defenceless. He had pretty much called her a whore, with nothing to support that accusation.

In fact he was starting to suspect Maisy’s sexuality was as artless as the rest of her. She wasn’t selling something, and—surprise, surprise—he didn’t want to buy her. He didn’t know exactly what it was he wanted from her, but he knew a beautiful girl in a stunning dress shouldn’t be pushed so far, end up so distressed, she lost her balance trying to escape his cruel taunts. She was lying in his bed in pain because he couldn’t deal with his goddamned issues.

This wasn’t him. He didn’t lose control like that. Especially with a woman. Especially not this woman. Maisy’s uncomplicated sweetness was what he needed right now, so why was he pushing her away?

Barefoot and bare-chested, he crossed the hall. He lifted his hand to knock as his door swept open. She was standing there in one of his shirts, face scrubbed, amazingly beautiful.

‘I want to know why you have such a low opinion of me,’ she said bluntly.

The shock of seeing her like this, clearly strong and ready to take him on again, put him off balance. The combination of bare legs and
his
shirt made it difficult for him to think straight. Yet he was compelled to mutter, ‘I don’t have a low opinion of you.’

She stared back at him as if butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth, although her eyes were all over his bare skin. ‘Then maybe you could be a little nicer to me.’

Nice? She wanted him to be nice?

‘How’s your shoulder?’

‘A little touchy, but I don’t want to talk about my shoulder.’

‘Neither do I, but it’s good to know.’ And in one movement he heaved her up over his shoulder and with his foot kicked shut the door behind them.

Oh, my.

‘What are you doing?’ she managed, although it would have been fairly clear to Blind Freddy what was going on. He was going to finish what he’d started in London right now, here, on this bed that was suddenly under her, and she was looking up into his laser-blue eyes and every one of her fantasies was pulsating to life.

‘Yes or no, Maisy. Your decision.’

Yes
, screamed her body, shifting from zero to a hundred in under two seconds.
But you hardly know him. Nice girls don’t do this. Anais made Leo wait three months …

Then he ran his thumbs gently over the inside of her wrists, lifting one of her hands to press his mouth where his thumb had
been. Maisy made a soft little sound and he lifted her arms up over her head so that her breasts lifted and her body stretched out for him. He lowered himself down over her, hovering, his weight on his forearms, overwhelming her with the sheer size and strength of his body.

She broke the connection of their gaze to sweep a comprehensive look down his body, poised above hers. The faint press of his ribs, the slabs of muscle across his chest and shoulders and back, bunched as he bore the weight of his own body. It all combined to make her feel small and soft and feminine, and she wanted to touch him so badly her palms were burning.

‘What do you want, Maisy?’

His scintillating blue eyes were so deep in hers Maisy found it hard to gather her words. Her heartbeat was so loud she was being deafened by it.

‘I want everything,’ she confided, her breath catching in her throat. ‘I want you.’

Something flared in his eyes that caused a tug deep in her pelvis, and she half rose up off the mattress to meet him as he lowered his head to kiss her, long and slow and with a deep satisfaction. As if they had all the time in the world. But he kept her arms pinned so that she felt vulnerable to him in this position, her breasts rubbing slightly against his chest, her nipples sharpened with nerve endings and pressing against him shamelessly.

It felt incredibly good, yet when she tried to shift her arms his hands slid over hers and made it impossible for her to move. The more she strained against him the deeper he kissed her, her breasts sliding and pushing against him. Then he released her.

Stunned, Maisy lay alone on the bed as he leapt up. For a moment she didn’t know what was going on, until full morning sunshine rushed into the room. Alexei had activated the blinds on the windows, letting in some light on the subject. Maisy blinked furiously as it hit her in the face. She brought her arms down, pressing on her good elbow as she struggled
to sit up, confused and wondering exactly what she was getting herself into.

Alexei stepped in front of her so that she was forced to remain seated, gazing up at him. For one simmering moment he just stood there, looking down at her, those jeans sitting tantalisingly low on his lean hips. His abdomen was so ripped she longed to trace her fingers along the fine delineations of muscle. He was that close. A light smattering of dark chest hair covered him before arrowing down and disappearing into the V of his taut pelvic cradle. Maisy followed it with her eyes, her mouth running dry as she registered the distinct bulge. He surely didn’t want that? Now? Did he? Was she supposed to start confessing everything she didn’t know about the male body?

‘Stop thinking, Maisy,’ he instructed her, his voice warm with humour. ‘Shift over,
dushka
.’

Feeling off-centre and decidedly gauche, Maisy scooted over into the centre of the bed, wondering if she should say something—if she was supposed to be doing something a more sophisticated woman would just know in her bones how to do. But he was coming down over her, blocking out the sun, and suddenly all she could see and feel and inhale was him.

He brushed his lips over her mouth, and when she instinctively responded he moved away to drop butterfly kisses along her jawline. Maisy began to sense he was playing a game with her, one of advance and retreat, as if tightening his hold on her each time. She didn’t want London, she didn’t want out-of-control, but nor did she want to play a part in any sort of game. She wanted simple, she thought nervously as her body responded despite her jangling thoughts. She wanted honest. She just wanted
him
.

Maybe she should tell him.

Then his breath was hot in her ear and he began to promise her things … wicked things, sexual things … and then he shifted slightly, and she was pinned under the heft of his body, and she felt every inch of what he wanted to do with her.

Oh, my.

Maisy lost her ability to think, the wicked images he had put in her head heating her blood. She wrapped her arms around his neck to anchor him to her and made her own soft, satisfied sound under the impact of his mouth on hers. She winced as her shoulder gave a sharp tug and he instantly rolled onto his back, his arm around her waist, to pull her over on top of him.

For an instant she felt a wave of disappointment. Was he going to pull away from her again?

Instead he framed her face with his big hands. ‘Better for your shoulder,’ he muttered against her mouth, lifting to kiss her again, and a rush of real warmth ran through Maisy because he was looking after her.

Being on top also allowed her to set the pace. She fused her mouth to his, tasting the salt and spice and goodness of him, her hands meshing in his hair as she swept her tongue into his mouth. She had absolutely no idea what she was doing. She knew the mechanics, what went where, but her single dismal experience had left her with very little understanding of what he was going to like. She hoped if she pleased herself it would please him too.

His hands were on her back, searching for the ends of his shirt and rucking it up. He spread his fingers over her cool bare skin, sweeping his hands down over her hips until he had the little scrap of lace clinging to her bottom beneath his fingers. He squeezed the lush weight of her buttocks and her knees dropped instinctively to either side of his hips. The impressive erection contained in his jeans was nestled in exactly the right spot for her, and he groaned as Maisy gave an experimental wriggle, then settled over him. He obliged, using his hands on her hips to work her rhythmically against him.

Maisy began to pant, making little gasping noises, and Alexei thought the sound alone was going to undo him. It was incredible. He felt like a teenage boy all over again, barely able to keep a leash on the urges rushing through his body. It was all Maisy—the feel and smell and look of her, and the way
she used his body to satisfy herself. Something had tipped in her favour early on in this encounter and he had lost the upper hand. If he’d ever had it. He began to growl her name and her thighs clenched around him.

That deep note in his voice always pulled on her inner muscles, and combined with the friction of him under her it lit the match and Maisy moaned, body taut, as her core dissolved into liquid sunshine. Unable to believe what had happened, she pressed her mouth into the base of his throat, face blood-red, and trembled on top of him with tiny aftershocks. Oh, God—she had used him as a sex toy.

Alexei was sitting her up, moving her on past the moment, so that she was virtually straddling his lap. His bigger body made her feel small and delicate in his arms, vulnerable to him in this position. Stripped to the waist, the spread of his chest was available to her hands and she began touching him, marvelling at the strength beneath the hot skin, meshing her fingers in his light chest hair, nuzzling him with her nose and mouth, running her tongue over his flat nipples until he hissed. The sound surged through Maisy’s body, giving her a much needed boost in confidence.

His hands were actually shaking as he got busy at the buttons of his shirt.

‘Okay, Maisy?’ His eyes sought hers again as his fingers kept on moving down the shirt.

She swayed against him and their mouths met, mingled. Maisy got a little lost in the kissing until his lips left hers, and then she looked down and saw the deep valley between her breasts had come into view. Alexei’s stunning hot gaze did not shift from that moment on as he peeled the shirt open.

Alexei said something under his breath and then his big hands were splaying over them, catching up her nipples. He bent his head to take one into his mouth. His bristle-roughened chin abraded her sensitive skin as he suckled and fondled and nuzzled her, ignoring her efforts to touch him in kind until she was unbearably anxious to feel him inside her. She had not
imagined in her wildest dreams she would feel this driven. It wasn’t in her nature, wasn’t in
her
—until now.

She put her hands on his waistband but his hands were already there, pushing her away.

‘Not yet,
dushka
,’ he rasped, lying her back flat on the bed and kissing down her belly to the scrap of white lace she was wearing.

She could feel her whole face suffusing in a hot blush of reaction. He edged off her knickers so slowly it felt like for ever. She was almost relieved when they were off. Then he went sliding to his knees on the floor, dragging her legs after him, so for a moment her knees hooked over his shoulders.

Maisy stopped breathing. It was an unbearably intimate position—especially when she looked down—and she wriggled, a wave of embarrassment passing over her. Then she felt him begin to blow air over the moist core of her, and she bit the fleshy part of her hand to keep from crying out.

Dan hadn’t done this. Dan hadn’t been anywhere near down there with his mouth. She’d read about it, but the reality was liquefying.