Шэрон Кендрик - Too Proud to be Bought

He liked the way that her hair was a woven mass of caramel and sunshine and he wanted to remove all the clips and see it tumble down around her shoulders. He could see the outline of her legs through the silk of her dress—slender, lean legs—and he felt another sharp ache of desire. ‘And we’re very close to my house,’ he said, as if the thought had only just occurred to him. ‘You could always come in for a quick drink, if you wanted.’

Zara’s thoughts were scrambled by the frantically conflicting messages firing between body and brain. A strange man inviting you into his house for a nightcap was a definite no-no. And yet this was not any man—this just happened to be the most devastatingly attractive man she’d ever met. Wasn’t Cinderella allowed a little glimpse of the prince’s palace before her clothes returned to rags?

‘I could.’

‘But you’re not sure?’

‘What do you think?’

‘I think you want to.’

Zara gave an uncertain laugh. ‘It isn’t always wise just to do what you want.’

‘No? I’ve always thought exactly the opposite. That life is much too short to be dictated to by social etiquette.’ His eyes narrowed. ‘What if I give you my word that we’ll have one quick drink and then my car will take you wherever you want to go? How does that sound?’

It sounded like mad-ness—complete and utter mad-ness—and yet it also sounded like the most tantalising offer she had received in a long time. Zara’s world had been coloured bleak and sombre by recent events—could anyone really blame her if she wanted to peek at a more vibrant version of how life could be lived? One where shiny limousines picked you up from fancy parties and silent drivers sat and took you wherever you wanted to go.

But something stopped her and maybe it was the realisation that this was outside her realm of experience on so many levels. Instinct told her she was dealing with a seasoned and experienced man. He was like a lion, she thought suddenly, her eyes straying to his thick mane of hair—deep and lustrous as beaten-gold. And a woman should not go into a lion’s lair unless she was expecting to be eaten …

She shook her head. ‘It’s very sweet of you,’ she said, and drew a breath with the same kind of determination which had seen her successfully battle with the doctors to keep her godmother at home during the final days of her life. ‘But I don’t think it’s such a good idea.’

He could see that she meant it and for a moment Nikolai was surprised. Usually, he had to fight women off and had taken her acceptance as a given—especially when invitations to his home were precious and few. Yet her refusal intrigued as well as surprised him.

‘Are you sure?’ he questioned.

‘Quite sure,’ she said, with more conviction than she felt.

‘Well, in that case …’

There was a heartbeat of a pause as he leaned across the space and stared down into her widening eyes and soft lips. ‘I’ll just have to kiss you goodnight right here—won’t I, milaya moya?’

Her fingers gripped the soft leather seat. ‘And do you always kiss women you hardly know goodnight?’ she asked breathlessly.

‘Not always, net. But you have been tantalising me all night—ever since you started running away from me at the party. And I can’t remember the last time I had to chase a woman, quite literally in your case.’

If only he knew why she had been running! Suddenly Zara felt stricken with guilt. ‘But—’

‘Shut up,’ he said, almost gently as he bent his mouth to hers.

Afterwards, she blamed the champagne—and his experience—because she did nothing to stop him. But it was more than cold wine on an empty stomach. It was hunger and it was curiosity. It had been a long time since Zara had been kissed. And no man had ever kissed her the way Nikolai Komarov proceeded to do in the back seat of his chauffeur-driven limousine.

All it took was one careless graze of his mouth and she began to tremble in response, causing him to make a small sound of assertion underneath his breath as he pulled her closer. And perhaps it was the comfort of being held like that which made Zara want to melt against him. The warm human contact which made her feel normal again, instead of the person who had become invisible and isolated from the rest of the world by sickness. How long since she had been cuddled—or felt any kind of security? With a hungry little cry, she lifted her fingers and tangled them in the thick, beaten gold of his hair and lost herself in the sweetness of his kiss.

Nikolai gave an unsteady laugh as his hand slid across her back, the rawness of her response startling him a little. He had expected sophistication—an erotic routine which she had gone through many times before. And yet the helpless trembling of her body did not go with her smooth, sleek image. Not at all. And wasn’t there more than a little tenderness about the way she held him? He swallowed as he drew his mouth away and smoothed a fallen strand of hair away from her cheek—because tenderness wasn’t something he encountered very often and it was curiously persuasive.

‘You have great passion, I think,’ he murmured.

‘Do I?’ she breathed.

‘Da. Beautiful passion.’

His mouth sought hers once more and it was then that the kiss began to change. Zara gasped as his lips suddenly became more seeking and she found her own opening beneath them. She could sense the tension in his body as his hands splayed over her back, where her flimsy evening dress was cut away to reveal a large keyhole in the material. She could feel his fingers kneading against her bare skin as time slowed and she felt as if she had entered an intimate little world. One where Nikolai’s tongue inside the warm cavern of her mouth made her feel as if she were being dragged down into some dark and erotic vortex.

‘Nikolai—’

‘What?’ he growled.

‘This is—’

‘Amazing,’ he purred, briefly lifting his head so that his eyes glittered out their unashamed desire, before tracing his finger over the fleshy trembling of her bottom lip. ‘Da. Da. I know it is.’

She had been about to say that it was wrong—and yet her body was telling her otherwise. Could something be wrong when it felt so right? she pondered distractedly. When his fingers were now tiptoeing down her neck towards her breasts, before skating with practised ease to alight on the aching swell of one silk-covered nipple.

Zara swallowed down the dryness in her throat. ‘This is cr-crazy,’ she gasped as his mouth bent to one aching breast.

Nikolai flicked his tongue over the thin silk, which was the only barrier between him and her bare nipple, as he heard her whispered little gasp. Did it make her feel better if she let herself protest about what they were doing, he wondered cynically, even though she clearly wanted him just as much as he wanted her?

But women were contrary creatures—he knew that. Often they liked to disguise their own earthy desire for fear that a man was judging them for being too ‘easy'. Should he reassure her now that he didn’t give a curse about convention and that she could be as ‘easy’ as she liked.

He drifted his hand down over one slender hip, his mouth briefly leaving the now-moist material of her gown and noting that he had left a darkened ring over her breast. ‘You do realise that you have the most fantastic body?’ he questioned. ‘And that your dress shows it off quite beautifully.’

She shook her head, only dimly aware that she was blowing the opportunity to talk about the dress. ‘St-stop it,’ she whispered.

‘Stop complimenting you? I thought all women liked to be complimented.’