Kitabı oku: «One Night with a Gorgeous Greek», sayfa 8
‘I’m not angry. At least, not with you. I am frustrated that you didn’t just tell me the truth about the company.’
‘At the time I thought you were just going to walk in and close us down to punish my dad.’
‘Despite what you may have heard I would never be that careless with people’s jobs.’ Forced to confront the depth of his own misjudgement, Damon felt a stab of guilt. ‘I admit that my anger towards your father blinded business sense. I wasn’t thinking clearly. I misjudged you, but you must admit that I had reason.’
‘Because I was excluded from school?’
‘Because nothing about Prince Advertising is professional.’
‘Actually, you’re wrong about that. We don’t do things your way, but that isn’t the same as being unprofessional.’
She paused to watch as a boat passed under the bridge, lights twinkling and music playing. On the deck, a couple were locked in a passionate embrace and suddenly Damon wished he hadn’t agreed to a walk.
Everything made him think about that kiss in the hotel suite.
To distract himself, he kept the conversation focused on work.
‘I can see that you have original ideas, but original ideas are no good if they’re not supported by sound business practice. Money was leaking from your company. Do you have any idea how close you were to bankruptcy?’
She was still watching the couple kissing. ‘Yes.’
‘Is that why you all took a pay cut?’
‘The board wanted redundancies. None of us wanted that. We’re a team. We’re happy working together. And we’re good. I’ve known some of these people since I was a child and used to come to the office after school to help. The problems we face aren’t anything to do with lack of talent. You’re a clever man and you’ve looked at the numbers. You know that the money leaking from the company was pouring straight into the pockets of the board.’
‘I understand that. It’s the reason I fired them although at the time I didn’t know just how bad they were. What I don’t understand is why your father allowed it to happen. He should have had tighter control on what was going on.’
Even though it wasn’t cold, she drew the coat more tightly around her. ‘My father has always treated the company more as a hobby than a business. Sometimes he’s interested and sometimes he isn’t.’ Her voice was deceptively light. ‘He didn’t keep a rein on the board and without him there they took more and more liberties. He stopped showing interest in the company altogether about six months ago—about the same time he started seeing your sister. He’s been behaving like a teenager in love ever since. The board wanted cost savings.’
Damon kept his anger on a tight leash. ‘And the obvious solution, apart from slashing their own spending, was redundancy.’
‘My dad set up the company twenty-five years ago and some of the people who worked for him are still there. They’re loyal, lovely people.’ Her gaze flickered briefly to his. ‘And before you say it, yes, I know that business can’t run successfully on loyal, lovely people alone. We all figured that as long as we were still employed it could turn around so we agreed to the pay cut. I suppose we were all hoping for a miracle.’ With a wry smile, she stroked a strand of blonde hair away from her face. ‘And then my father and your sister went missing. And you showed up.’
Damon paused, unused to confiding in anyone but surprised to find that he wanted to. ‘We had a row. Just over two weeks ago. Arianna told me she was in love with someone and that I was going to lose it when she told me who.’ He pressed his fingers to the bridge of his nose, regretting that encounter. ‘She was right. I did lose it.’
‘I can imagine. We were never exactly your favourite family.’
His hand dropped slowly. ‘You were right when you accused me of acting emotionally—I did. But it was like watching a train crash in slow motion—you can see disaster and you want to take charge and stop it happening.’
‘Why do you feel you have to stop things happening?’
‘That night we were told about our parents—I thought she was too young to understand. She wasn’t.’ The cold feeling spread through him and he had an urgent need to shake it off, to outrun it. ‘She crawled onto my lap and sobbed and sobbed. Wouldn’t let go. I have never felt more helpless and inadequate than I did that night. I promised myself I was never going to let her be hurt like that again.’
Polly matched her stride to his as they crossed the bridge and started to walk along the embankment towards the hotel. ‘She was a child then. She’s an adult now.’
‘I’m more parent than brother and I don’t think a parent ever stops feeling responsible.’ It was typical, he thought, that a woman would want to unpeel that statement and look beneath the surface. He wondered what had possessed him to make such an unguarded comment when normally he kept his feelings tightly locked away. ‘Let’s get back to the hotel.’
‘In other words you don’t want to talk about it. Sorry. Shouldn’t have asked.’ She was light on her feet, sure-footed as she negotiated paving stones and cobbles. ‘So what happens now? You took over the company thinking that you’d be able to influence my father. But my father doesn’t care about the company at the moment. He’s obsessed with your sister.’ Her face was pale in the twinkling evening light and Damon watched her, realising that he’d given virtually no thought to how she felt about it all.
‘It must have been hard for you, seeing him involved with women your age.’
Her tongue moistened her lower lip. ‘School was hard. My father used to drive a soft-top sports car and the blonde in the front was as much of an accessory as the CD-player. If anything is designed to make you a target, it’s having a parent who behaves like that.’
‘Was that why you rebelled?’
She gave a funny crooked smile. ‘I didn’t rebel. I had a problem and I sorted it. It’s what I’ve always done.’
‘You had three boys in your bedroom—the bedroom you shared with my sister. How was that sorting a problem?’
‘It happened ten years ago! I refuse to be continually judged on something I did ten years ago. Get over it.’ She walked surprisingly quickly for someone quite petite and he cursed softly and followed, deciding that she was infinitely more complicated than he’d first thought.
He was getting the sense that he’d misjudged her yet again, and yet her misdemeanour had been witnessed by several members of staff so he knew that this time there was no mistake. What was there to misjudge? At fourteen years old she’d been caught in her underwear in her bedroom with three boys—an offence dealt with by exclusion.
They’d reached the hotel and she smiled at the doorman and greeted him in French.
Amazed that she managed to be chatty even in a foreign language, Damon extracted her from what promised to be a lengthy conversation and urged her forwards. ‘So why is your title executive assistant when clearly you should be on the creative team? It’s not a fair reflection of your responsibilities or your contribution.’
‘Life isn’t always fair, Mr Doukakis.’ She walked into the apartment ahead of him, exchanging a cheerful greeting with his security team who Damon dismissed with a faint movement of his head.
‘I think we should probably drop the formality, don’t you?’
As the door closed behind the last security man she turned her head and something flickered in her eyes.
‘Fine. Let’s drop the formality.’ There was a moment’s hesitation and she drew in a long, slow breath, as if she were plucking up courage. Then, without shifting her gaze from his face, she lifted her chin and slowly, provocatively, undid the buttons of her coat and allowed it to slide to the floor. The jacket of her suit followed and his eyes slid to the thin black straps her camisole. All evening he’d had tantalising glimpses of sexy lace and now he saw that the whole thing was lace, the elaborate pattern exposing a suggestion of creamy skin.
His mouth dried. ‘Theé mou, what are you doing?’
‘I’m dropping the formality. And my clothes, now that you mention it.’ A slight smile tugging at the corners of her mouth, she walked towards him. ‘What’s the matter, Damon? Worried about that self-control of yours? Worried you won’t be able to walk away from chemistry?’ Her hand locked into the front of his shirt and she pulled him towards her, her thick lashes a tempting veil over eyes that glittered like jewels. Her lips parted and Damon felt his brain shut down.
He ought to push her away right now.
He ought to—
Her fingers locked behind his head and drew his head down and his mouth melded with warm, honeyed temptation. She tasted exquisite, the subtle stroke of her tongue against his bottom lip a hot, erotic fantasy, and he felt lust slam into him with shocking force. Resisting, he lifted his hands to push her away but instead found himself cupping her face, his fingers exploring the softness of her skin and the delicate lines of her jaw. If the kiss they’d shared earlier had been a full-on demonstration of the power of sexual attraction this was softer, more subtle. But it was no less devastating in its effect. Her sweet mouth seduced his with a slow, sure gentleness that ripped away his defences and sent fire tearing through every part of him.
Balancing on the dangerous knife-edge of a new addiction, he felt his power to control his emotions and actions drain at a frightening rate. The part of his brain warning him to stop this madness right now was eclipsed by the part that reached out greedily for the fulfilment of pleasure. A whisper of silk brushed his hand and he removed the clip in her hair and dropped it on the floor, allowing the river of softness to slide over her shoulders. With a husky groan he slid his fingers into that soft sheet of hair and deepened the kiss. The intense flame of sexual chemistry scorched both of them and this time when he gently stroked her face he discovered that his hand was shaking. Devoured by emotions he’d never felt before, he smoothed his palms over her shoulders, feeling nothing but a desperate urge to explore the rest of her. The thin spaghetti straps of her camisole surrendered to the pressure of his fingers and slid away, leaving no barrier between her flesh and his mouth. As he pressed his lips to her throat he heard her gasp, felt the rapid thrum of her pulse under his mouth.
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.’
CHAPTER SEVEN
POLLY 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.
For a moment she just lay there, slightly dazed.
And then the terror returned.
Emerging from a sex-induced coma, Damon woke to find himself alone in the bed.
As the morning light poured into the bedroom, it took him a moment to orientate himself. Turning his head slowly, he eyed the tangled sheets and found himself struggling with emotions entirely foreign to him.
He’d spent a wild night with Polly Prince.
Covering his eyes with his forearm, he swore long and fluently. It didn’t help to acknowledge that it had started with him trying to prove his ability to control his decisions and actions.
Control?
Where had control been during their marathon sex session? The irony slapped him in the face. In trying to prove control, he’d disproved it. And he’d done it again and again, until she’d been limp and pliant and had finally fallen asleep on his shoulder, those incredible limbs wrapped around him.
Just thinking about it made him hard again and he gave an exclamation of frustration and sprang from the bed, trying to dispel the image of a smouldering Polly letting her coat slip to the floor.
That whole striptease had been his undoing.
Striding into the bathroom, he stepped into the shower, hoping that a blast of freezing water would cool his body and his brain.
He needed to stop feeling and think.
As if his life wasn’t already complicated enough, he’d now complicated it still further. It wasn’t just the situation between his sister and her father, or even the fact that she now worked for him and he made a point of never becoming involved with an employee. No, the real complication was that he didn’t want a serious relationship. There was no way he wanted to be responsible for yet another human being’s happiness. It was enough to have the burden of thousands of employees and one wayward sister. He didn’t need anyone else added into the mix.
Damon turned the jets of the shower to full blast, knowing that the only way to deal with the situation was to be blunt. Honest.
The question was whether it was better to do it immediately, and risk subjecting himself to the company of an emotional female for the journey home, or whether to delay that conversation until they reached London and he could extricate himself from the fall-out with greater ease.
It was going to make it impossible to work with her, and it was clear to him that, despite his previous thoughts, she was a key player in the business. He suspected that Gérard’s devotion to her was as much due to her creative imagination as her long legs.
Postponing the moment when he had to shatter Polly’s romantic illusions, he shaved, dressed and dealt with his urgent calls. By the time he’d returned calls to people in London and Athens there was still no sign of her.
After the intimacies they’d shared the night before, he was surprised.
His jaw tightened and he tried to free himself of the uncomfortable suspicion that she’d been a virgin. Twenty-four-year-old virgins didn’t exist, did they? Especially not virgins who seduced a man with a striptease and then proceeded to indulge in hot, steamy sex without a single blush or bat of an eyelash.
Dismissing the thought, he strode through the apartment in search of her.
Theé mou, he wasn’t a man who avoided awkward situations. He just did what needed to be done, so why was he dragging his feet?
Even though he reminded himself that she’d been a more than willing partner, he still felt a sense of responsibility. He’d started it, hadn’t he? By kissing her.
It was time to put an end to something he never should have started.
He found her seated on the balcony, talking to someone on the phone while she plugged numbers into a spreadsheet on her laptop.
Damon studied her face for evidence of distress but she looked animated and energised as she negotiated a price with someone on the end of the phone.
When she finally ended the call she was so absorbed in the work she was doing she didn’t immediately notice him. Looking at her now, he wondered how he could ever have accused her of being lazy. It was obvious she’d been working for hours.
‘Don’t you ever sleep?’
She glanced up then, her cheeks dimpling into a warm smile. ‘You’re a fine one to talk. I hear your average working day is twenty hours.’
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