His Best Acquisition: The Russian's Acquisition / A Deal Before the Altar / A Deal with Demakis. Dani Collins
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a deep breath, she picked up her fork and said stiffly, “Just so I’m clear…You don’t care whether the things you’ve acquired are to your taste. You only want to hold them long enough to devalue and unload them?” Looking him in the eye was an act of supreme courage, especially since it made him bare his teeth in an uncivilized grin.
“You get to keep the money, Clair. You’ll walk away satisfied that your bottom line has benefited, I promise. Now let’s change the subject.”
“I think you just did,” she muttered, staring at food she had no appetite for as she tried to sift through the mixed emotions of being physically infatuated with a man who promised to give her pleasure while only taking a cold helping of revenge for himself.
His attitude hurt her and she didn’t want him to have that power. She wanted to be unaffected and remote, the way he was.
“Did I?” he responded with throwaway sarcasm.
“Yes, you did.” She set down her fork with a clatter. Trying to eat was pointless when she was so consumed with nerves. She could sit here waiting out the minutes until his stupid money came through, trying to reimagine this into something more meaningful than it would ever be, or she could have sex with him and be done with it. It didn’t matter if he didn’t feel anything, she told herself. She had always preferred superficial connections over something deeper. Right?
Right?
“Let’s do it now,” she decided shakily.
Her statement arrested him. “Why the sudden change of heart?” he asked, narrowing his eyes.
Her pulse raced, but she ignored it, determined to be as cool and impervious as the women he was no doubt used to. “Because unlike an island villa or a vintage car, which have no say in life, I am a human being capable of making a choice. I want to complete this transaction so I can move on.”
She rose and left the table, heading toward his room without looking back, unable to hear if he followed because her ears filled with a whooshing sound. Her whole body trembled. She halted when she saw the intimidating expanse of his bed.
What was she doing? A cold chill of doubt washed through her. She couldn’t be so casual about stripping naked and letting a man into her body.
Fingertips grazed her spine, making her flinch. He lowered the zip of her dress before she clutched at the drooping front, panic whirling her to face him.
He scooped her to his chest, trapping her arms between them as his mouth captured hers. One hand streaked from her waist to slide beneath her elbow, where he cupped and firmly massaged her breast.
The dual sensations of fierce kiss and possessive, intimate touch hammered her with a pulse of pleasure so strong it frightened her. The situation was not just flying but exploding out of her control. She jerked her head to the side, gasping for breath, and pressed with her forearms for distance.
“You’re going too fast!”
HER WORDS RESULTED in a loaded silence.
She used it to gather her composure, shocked by how easily he’d stripped her of it with one soul-stealing kiss. Compartmentalize, she urged herself, but it was impossible when the heat of his body melted her bones and his hands flexed restlessly against her back. She had to slow him down or he’d own her completely.
Trying to hide how unnerved she was by her response, she forced herself to meet his gaze. His expression was flushed, his eyes glittering with suspicion.
“A minute ago, I wasn’t moving fast enough,” he growled.
Her chin automatically came forward, even though challenging him was probably the stupidest thing she could do. “A girl still wants to be seduced.” It was the only thing she could think to say.
“Does she?” he asked in a tone that made her belly tremor. He held her chin and stared at her. “Or does she want to see how far she can push a man?”
“I’m not—” She tried to swallow through a dry throat. “I’m not going to back out,” she whispered. “I just want a slower pace. Is that so unreasonable?” She wished she had enough experience to know exactly what kind of mistake she was making.
“Are you attempting to keep it interesting or afraid of losing control?”
His guess, so accurate, sent a startled pulse through her. Unable to control how the world treated her, she instead controlled how deeply she felt the ebbs and flows of life—but she definitely couldn’t control the way she reacted to him. That terrified her.
He touched her lips. The tickling graze of his fingertip made her mouth quiver. “Tell me when you want me to kiss you, then,” he taunted gruffly.
Now. She couldn’t deny that she wanted his mouth. And she wanted to make a go of the foundation. If she kept that in mind, maybe she could get through this without giving up too much of herself.
“N-now.” The quaver in her voice reflected her inner turmoil.
“Now?” He plucked at her bottom lip.
“Yes. But just a kiss,” she cautioned, then added, “Please.”
He chuckled in a way that sounded bitter and trailed his calloused fingers along her jaw, into her hair, gently threading his hand into her loose tresses as he tilted her head back.
“Since you said please…” He stepped closer and brushed a light kiss onto her neck.
She shivered as his lips moved under her jaw and up her cheek to her temple.
It was lovely, but she felt unsteady. She set her hands on his hard chest to ground herself, eyes involuntarily closing as she appreciated the patience he was showing, touching butterfly kisses all over her face, pressing the corner of her mouth and drifting away. Giving her the time to absorb each caress, the flutter of reaction it raised, and even anticipate the next.
Before she realized what she was doing, she unconsciously tried to follow him for a real kiss. His grip in her hair made turning her face impossible. The next time his heated breath flowed over her lips, she parted her own in invitation, but he left again. A whimper of dismay escaped her and she realized with a sting of uneasiness that she wasn’t setting the pace at all. He was in control.
She ran restless hands over his chest. It was unfamiliar but thrilling. Hard muscle rippled with power beneath soft cashmere as she tried unsuccessfully to convey what she wanted from him.
“Aleksy.” That throaty tone did not belong to her.
“Do you want my mouth on yours?” he asked in a husky growl.
She did. For all her misgivings and apprehensions, her lips were hot and sensitized, the waiting unbearable. “Yes.”
He rubbed her lips lightly with his own.
A needy ache gathered hotly between her thighs. “More,” she breathed.
“Show me what you want,” he commanded.
A frustrated sound escaped her. She didn’t know! Or did she? She wanted a proper, openmouthed, hot, swirling kiss. As crazy as it sounded, she craved the mindlessness he inflicted on her.
Lifting, she tried to show him, crushing her swollen, aching mouth against his, clinging with her lips and delicately invading with the tip of her tongue.
He stiffened.
She was doing it wrong. Failure and rejection instantly loomed, even more horrifying than the swamp of sexual excitement. She instinctively tried to pull away, but his arm tightened and she felt the answering lick of his tongue against hers. A bolt of sweet lightning flashed through her, a fierce relief followed by a warning of a storm.
She stilled, tried to pull herself