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Gone the way of the fairies, Clementine. Because he never existed. Now that he’d had her he’d cooled off. She’d heard about guys like him. Once the chase was over so was the romance. She snorted. She’d been such an idiot. The romance she’d been hoping for hadn’t even got off the ground because there never had been any romance.
Serge knocked once, for appearances’ sake, then opened the bathroom door. There she was—one of his afternoon’s fantasies come to life. All six feet of naked Clementine, with water running over her pale honey skin, the graceful seashell-pink-tipped breasts, the narrow waist that only made the extravagant flare of her hips and bottom all the more dramatic, and those long, long legs.
She turned, sensing him, and those lovely eyes of hers narrowed.
‘Don’t even try it, Marinov.’
But he knew the battles he could win, and this was one of them.
Fully dressed, he stepped under the water stream, hands sliding around her. When she opened her mouth to swear a blue streak at him he took it as his invitation to lower his head and kiss her.
Clementine put up a good fight against her desire for him, holding off for at least five seconds before she spread her hands over his shoulders and pressed herself up against him. With his arms around her he felt solid and exciting, and everything fell away except for this. The way he made her feel. Beautiful, wanted, safe.
So many firsts, she thought later as she sat on the bed, wrapped in a big warm towel, knowing she needed to go and get dressed.
It was all playing through her head. Serge hadn’t even removed his clothes—just unzipped and it had been happening, and her need had climbed with his at breakneck speed. What was wrong with her? She should have yelled at him—not had sex with him.
He was treating her like a convenience.
It was never more obvious than when he came out of the en suite bathroom, towelling dry his hair. He glanced at the digital clock and swore softly in Russian.
More disappointed with him by the minute, she said sharply, ‘Going to be late, Serge? Never mind—just tell your friends you couldn’t keep it zipped up. I’m sure it’s not the first time.’
He dropped the towel to his side. He looked genuinely shocked.
Good. For five whole seconds she had a little payback.
But then he drawled, ‘It’s work, Clementine, and it’s twenty-four-seven. Welcome to my world.’ He threw the towel onto a chair and slid open a drawer. ‘And, by the way, crudity doesn’t suit you. I’d prefer you continued to behave like the lady you are.’
‘Except when I’ve got my legs wrapped around your waist in the shower,’ she shot back, hurt.
He flashed a charismatic smile over his shoulder. ‘Exactly.’
Oh, boy. A streak of healthy cleansing anger ripped through her body. She was so out of here. His week of pleasure had just got foreshortened to one night. When he got back she’d be gone. Over the hills. Far, far away.
But even as she formed the thought of escape she dug her toes a little more firmly into the carpet. Oh, yes, Clementine, look at you running. Like that’s going to happen. You’ve never been with a man like this and it’s exciting, and despite everything you want to at least try and see if this can go somewhere better. Besides, he’s got you wrapped around his little finger and he knows it. Why would he let you go yet? As long as he wants you you’ll stay.
And with that all the anger fell away and all she felt was confusion.
What was going on? Was she sulking? Serge tugged on some briefs, pulled on his jeans. Glanced over at her again.
She was snapping at him as if he’d done something to disappoint her. Yet she’d climaxed around him in the shower. Hadn’t she?
Was that the problem? Had she been faking it? The thought brought him up cold. He prided himself on giving a woman the pleasure she deserved in exchange for the gift of her body, and the notion that he hadn’t lived up to Clementine’s expectations wiped out any thought other than remedying that.
He strolled over and dropped to his knees at her feet. Clementine stared at him in astonishment as he tugged playfully on her towel, parting it to reveal her thighs.
‘What are you doing?’
‘Makings things better. Lie back, kisa, and think happy thoughts.’
He had to be joking. Clementine grabbed the towel and pulled it back down to her knees, tucking her legs up under her as fast as she could. ‘Don’t you dare.’
A challenge? A wicked smile lit up his face, but no answering invitation came from Clementine.
She glared at him. ‘Your bedside manner needs a lot of work, mate.’
The smile was gone. In its place was disbelief. ‘You love it, kisa.’
