“Yes, it is.”
“I am sweaty, as you said. Would you like to wait for me to rinse off?”
“I feel like we’ve played this game before. I would rather not be present every time you shower. We are just going downstairs, so your running clothes should be fine, and I will bear your sweat with as much grace and poise as I can.”
“You are a consummate lady.” He followed her out of the suite and into the hall.
“I do try to be.”
She was so stiff and prim, but he knew better. And he would not allow her to pretend he didn’t. “I especially admire the way you keep your composure as you come.”
She whipped around to face him, her eyes wide with shock, her cheeks red now, not from embarrassment, but rage. “I cannot believe you mentioned that.”
“I’m sorry. Were you dedicated to the idea of speaking about it in euphemism for the rest of our time together?”
“I had rather hoped we wouldn’t speak of it at all.”
“You were the one rather flagrantly flaunting your good night’s sleep. And I’m the one who administered nature’s sleeping pill—therefore, I think I have room to comment.”
He shouldn’t be discussing it, as he had just purposed that he would not press this issue with her. Because there was nowhere it could go.
But perhaps this was what he needed. Perhaps it was what they both needed. To allow a slight release on their control so that in all major areas that control could be retained.
It made sense. It was what he had done back when he was fighting MMA professionally. It had given him a chance to get release without ever descending back into the dark place he had been in. A chance to burn off steam while retaining the most essential elements of his control.
“That’s crass.” She pressed the button for the lift and proceeded to stare at the metal doors determinedly.
“Perhaps. But you did not seem to find it so distasteful last night.”
“Until I could think again.”
“I take that as a high compliment. The ability to make a woman like you mindless is not a small one.”
She tilted her head to the side, her eyes narrowed, glittering with barely suppressed rage. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Do not sound so offended, Victoria. It’s a compliment.” He examined the elegant line of her neck, a rush of desire coursing through his veins. “You are very present. Brilliant. Nothing gets past you. To force you to stop thinking for a moment shall be remembered as one of the greatest achievements of my life.”
“Well, it shall go down in history as one of my biggest failures. Congratulations.”
“Most women don’t consider an orgasm of that quality a failure.”
She made a frustrated sound and pressed the button for the lift again. “Honestly, it seems like this is taking forever.”
“You’re just saying that.”
“So what is it you want, Dmitri?” she asked, the color high in her cheeks. “You just want to... What? Have sex?” Her prim and proper accent curving around that oh-so-evocative word wrenched his arousal up to a higher level. And he saw his paths narrowing. Saw his choices diminish. He should be angry, but his blood was burning with a different kind of fire altogether. “We both know it won’t go anywhere. And we both know it might distract us from what we have come together to do.”
He reached out and took her left hand in his, sliding his thumb over the ring that rested on her fourth finger. “I fail to see how sex could do anything but enhance what it is we are trying to do.”
Why was he pushing this? Why was he letting this pull to her, this situation he did not choose, dictate his wants, his needs, his actions?
Because you want to give in... This time at least, you want to have the choice taken...
“Oh, is that so?” Her voice sounded thin now, breathy. Different.
Dammit all to hell. He wanted this. Wanted to pull the trigger.
“We are supposed to be lovers, after all.” He looked up, his eyes clashing with hers. “Sex would add authenticity.”
“I’M GOING TO choose to ignore that,” Victoria said, her tone strangled, betraying just how affected she was by his bold statement.
The doors to the lift slid open and she called herself a whole list of vile names. She could not believe she was having this conversation with him, she could not believe she had let him touch her the way she had last night and, worst of all, she could not believe that she was tempted by what he was suggesting now.
She blamed... Well, she honestly had no idea what she blamed. Except for her own weakness. Apparently, she wasn’t as strong as she’d imagined. Or, she had never been adequately tempted.
Not since Nathan. But even then...that had been different. It had been this hazy, romanticized thing. All bound up in fluttery feelings and breathless touches.
This was not fluttery. It was dark, sweaty and deep. Made her crave things she’d never imagined could possibly appeal.
Dmitri, it turned out, was her personalized brand of temptation. She was not sure how she felt about that.
She had always imagined that men like Nathan were her kryptonite. Men who talked a smooth game and wore well-fitted suits like a second skin.
And yet, here she was falling all over herself, breaking vows that were more than a decade old, and all over a man who, when he wore a suit, looked as though he wanted to tear it from his body as soon as possible. A man who was rough, profane and seemed to take great joy in shocking her. A man who had access to parts of herself that were previously unknown. Parts of herself that wanted, craved, a chance to be wicked. To say to hell with everyone and everything else and dive into her own desires. Her own pleasures. A man who had thought nothing of touching her intimately on a balcony where anyone could see.
And you let him...
Well, that was beside the point. Or maybe it was exactly the point. She didn’t know.
Dmitri got next to her in the lift, and the door slid shut. She felt as if she could barely breathe. And if she did breathe, she was certain she would inhale the scent of him, of his skin, of his sweat, and she knew full well that did not have the effect on her that she wished it did. She wished that it disgusted her. When she had walked into his gym only a few short weeks ago she had been filled with disdain for testosterone. Now she found it all much more appealing than she would like.
The elevator stopped on the ground floor and the doors opened. Victoria stepped down, not waiting for Dmitri, desperate for some distance. Of course, she had a feeling that as large as the continent was she wouldn’t have enough distance from him if she was on an opposite coast. Better if she were back in England and he were here.
“The ballroom is this way,” she said, without looking back at him. She could hear his heavy footfalls behind her, and more than that, she could sense his presence.
She led him down the hallway, her shoes loud on the marble floor. In contrast, his trainers kept him almost silent, and made her increasingly self-conscious. It wasn’t fair—he should be the one feeling self-conscious, as he was in athletic clothing and casual shoes. Alas. Dmitri never seemed to feel uncomfortable, even though he never quite fit in to his surroundings. He simply didn’t care. She had no idea how he managed such a thing.
She had no idea how he managed much of what he seemed to manage. Least of all his ability to reach into her and take control of her desire.