It was daunting only because she was about to be kissed by the devil.
Why the hell did I order French onion soup, she thought, wondering if she could press Pause on him and scrabble in her bag for mints.
Oh, that was right, she’d had those chocolate ones with her coffee.
‘What are you thinking?’ Daniil said, because her eyes were darting and it was as if she was having a conversation with herself.
‘I’m not going to tell you.’
He didn’t test the waters, he didn’t start slowly, he just lowered his head from a great distance and Libby got the most thorough kissing of her life. His lips parted hers, his lips, not his tongue, and he held her so firmly that even as she went to rise onto her toes still he held her down. And when her lips were opened his tongue tipped hers and he explored her, not particularly softly. His jaw was rough and delicious, and when she tried to kiss him back she was met by a refusal.
This was his kiss to her, his mouth said. It wasn’t a dance of their mouths. He didn’t even lead, he simply took over, tasting her, stilling her, making her body roar into flame with his mouth. So solid was he Libby felt as if she were leaning against a wall. Even when someone knocked into them they were barely interrupted, such was the shield of him.
His kiss had her hot, right there in the street, but the only movement he allowed was to let her hands reach for his chest. She slid her fingers over the cool fabric of his shirt and found the nub of his nipples. Yes, she was hot and aching for more, her hips were pushing frantically against his hands so their bodies might have more contact. But then, when he coiled her so tight, he released her mouth. He’d let her glimpse a fraction of what being held by him felt like and then he cruelly removed the pleasure.
She sucked in the summer night air while craving his mouth again.
‘Bed,’ Daniil said.
‘I don’t...’ Libby halted. What had she been about to say—that she didn’t want to?
Well, yes, she did.
Since the age of eight, dancing had come first, which had meant self-discipline.
In everything.
How nice to stand here on the brink of making a decision based purely on now, on her own needs and wants right at this moment.
And she did want.
So she chose to say yes when the wisest choice might have been to decline.
‘Bed.’ Libby nodded and then blinked at her response. She didn’t retract it but her voice was rueful when she spoke next. ‘I am so going to regret this in the morning,’
‘Only if you expect me to love you by then.’
Third warning bell.
She could turn and walk away now.
‘Oh, no,’ Libby said, and in that at least she was wise.
‘Then, there’s no reason for regret.’
THE SECURITY TO get past for his penthouse apartment rivalled that at Daniil’s office.
First his driver spoke into an intercom and gates opened that led to an underground car park. From there they walked to another elevator that was only opened when Daniil typed in a code and gave his name in his low sexy drawl.
Up into a foyer they went, where they were greeted, and then it was another elevator up to his place.
Once inside, he threw his jacket over a couch and poured them both a drink and then sat on one of the large sofas, leaving Libby standing for a moment, taking it all in.
Daniil was very used to having women in his home. He didn’t like going to theirs. Here, he was in control.
What he wasn’t used to, though, was a woman like Libby. Her flat shoes made no sound on his marble tiles as she went over and looked out at the view and, Daniil was sure, she had another conversation going on in her head.
He lived above the clouds, Libby thought, or at least that was how it felt. They were so high up that she could be flying now, or in a hot-air balloon.
‘You don’t sound like a pony clipping around,’ he observed.
‘Ah, yes, noise irritates you.’ Libby smiled as she nursed a brandy and stared out at a dusky London, the sky flaring orange and promising that tomorrow would be another hot day, and she thought about the lead-up to tonight. ‘I was going to knock on your office door just to annoy you. And then knock again.’
‘Is that why you were smiling when you came in?’ Daniil asked, as he recalled thinking that she had been laughing at some private joke.
Now she shared it.
‘It was.’ Libby turned from one delicious view to another.
Him.
‘Do you know that I was sent off to clean myself up before Cindy would let me in to see you?’
‘Of course.’
‘I felt like I was at school and they were doing uniform inspection,’ she said, and then got back to peering at Big Ben and wondering if you could hear the chimes from in here, but her question never got asked because he spoke first.
‘Do you have your navy panties on?’
She wanted to lift her skirt and flash her bottom at him and she laughed out loud as she imagined doing so. ‘I’m most unlike me tonight,’ she admitted.
‘In what way?’
She thought for a long moment, wondering how best to describe the sheer heady pleasure of self-indulgence, how, till today, she had contained herself, unless she was dancing. Instead of saying so, though, she shook her head, just as Daniil did when there was something he would rather not discuss.
He accepted her silence.
‘I’m most unlike me, too,’ he said.
Usually he’d be just about on his way out.
Dinner with Libby had been very civil and certainly it was early to be home. More pointedly perhaps, they hadn’t kissed their way up in the lift, neither were they in bed already.
Instead, she wandered around and, rarely at ease with that, he let her.
It was a vast floor space; the walls, to the sides of the glass one, were brick, and the effect was amazing against the night sky. There was a storm rolling in and it was a sight to behold, the sky lighting up pink in the distance with each strike, yet there were no rumbles of thunder to be heard; rather she felt them. Looking out, it was almost as if you were on a very high balcony, suspended there on the outside. In fact, it was a little dizzying, as if you should be able to feel the breeze. After a few moments of taking it in, Libby stepped back and, as she did so, she felt she should be closing doors behind her. ‘Your home is stunning.’
It was.
The dark leather sofas were so wide and inviting she could happily sleep on a quarter of one of them, and naturally there were all the mod cons.
Except there was something missing.
There was no artwork on the walls, no photos on the shelves.
‘No books!’ Libby exclaimed.
‘I read online.’
‘But what about all your old ones?’
‘I dispose of them when I’m done.’ Daniil shrugged as Libby almost fainted in horror at the thought of him callously tossing them out.
Well, there’s your lesson, she warned herself. She’d be shivering