Billionaires: The Daredevil: Claimed for Makarov's Baby / Defying the Billionaire's Command / Redeeming the Billionaire SEAL

But then he smiled again—and that smile changed everything. Something inside her snapped, like a piece of elastic which had been stretched too far, and suddenly she was doing what she’d only dreamed of doing in her most forbidden fantasies. She was leaning over him and brushing her lips over his—like a role reversal of the prince trying to waken the sleeping princess with his kiss.

Only, Dimitri was awake. Wide awake. The smile died on his lips. His calculating gaze lasted only a second before he hooked his hand behind her neck and brought her face back down to his.

She stared into his blue eyes. ‘I...I shouldn’t have done that.’

‘Yes, you should,’ he growled. ‘And now you’re going to do it all over again.’

He smelt of horse and dust and desire, underpinned with the faint scent of fire berries, and Erin trembled as he pulled her close and kissed her. She worried about her weight pushing against his battered body, but he didn’t seem to care. He didn’t seem to care about anything except deepening the kiss so that she quickly became weak with longing, but she drew her head back when she heard him moan.

‘Am I hurting you?’ she whispered.

‘No.’ Grabbing her ponytail as if it was a rope, he tipped her head back so that she was caught in the spotlight of his eyes. ‘But I am at something of a disadvantage, since the doctor has suggested I avoid any strenuous movement.’ His eyes gleamed. ‘And since I am in no position to undress you or to master you—I think you will have to play the dominatrix this time.’

Erin froze. Until her sister had lent her that book last year, she hadn’t even known what the word ‘dominatrix’ meant. She wondered if he was expecting some kind of souped-up sexual performance from her. Yet here was she—not a virgin, but very nearly. Did she come straight out and tell him that?

‘You know,’ he said, filling the silence, ‘the suggestion wasn’t supposed to make your eyes widen with horror. That is not what a man intends when he wants to have sex with a woman.’

‘I don’t want you to be disappointed.’

His hand still wrapped around her ponytail, he steered her face towards his. ‘What are you talking about?’

‘I’m not very...experienced.’

‘Some men might consider a lack of experience to be a positive advantage.’

‘And are you one of those men?’

He shook his head. ‘Not now, Erin. I know how much you love to talk, but now is not a good time to discuss my sexual preferences.’ His expression changed. ‘Because every time you react to one of my remarks, you jerk your head back—causing your hips to slide over mine. And as a result, my erection is getting stronger by the minute—a fact which cannot have escaped you, zvezda moya.’

No, of course it hadn’t escaped her. She didn’t need to be experienced to realise just how aroused he was. She could feel the unfamiliar ridge pressing hard against one of her thighs and she told herself that now was the time for her to get off the divan and suggest putting more distance between them, not less. Because surely that was what any sane person in her position would do.

‘We aren’t supposed to be doing this,’ she whispered as the finger which had been at the base of her neck began to slide slowly downwards.

‘This?’

She forced herself to say it. To say it as it was and not how she’d like it to be. ‘Sex.’

His finger stilled in its tantalising journey towards her breast. ‘Do you want to stop?’

She closed her eyes, as if blotting out the distraction of his face could help her come to the right decision, but even that didn’t help. She wriggled and shook her head. ‘No,’ she breathed.

‘So stop analysing,’ he instructed. ‘And take off my clothes.’

Dimitri could feel her trembling as she unclipped the waistband of his jodhpurs and heard her unsteady rush of breath as she eased down the straining zipper. He shifted uncomfortably on the divan, trying to focus on something other than his body, trying to slow down the race of his own desire—because he could never remember sexual desire feeling quite so potent, nor so dangerous.

As she began to peel the jodhpurs down over his thighs he forced himself to remember that, for all her supposed sweetness and innocence, he couldn’t trust her. He’d put Erin Turner in a different category from any other woman he’d ever known, and he was a fool to have done so. Because she wasn’t different. She was exactly the same. Selfish. Calculating. Single-minded. She hadn’t even given him a chance to get to know his son, or to see whether he’d changed, because it hadn’t suited her to do so. And because children were nothing but pawns in the lives of women. How could he have forgotten a truth as fundamental as that?

His anger had made him even more aroused—something he hadn’t thought possible—and he enjoyed the darkening of her eyes as he breathed out a series of instructions to her. ‘Go over to my wash bag and find my condoms. No, let me put it on—you just concentrate on taking off your dress. Mmm... That’s better. Now your panties. And your bra. And then climb on top of me and take me inside you. Da. Just like that. Oh, God, Erin—just like that.’

With his hands on her narrow hips and her small breasts positioned perfectly for his delectation, he watched as she came very quickly. And so did he. Too quickly, perhaps. He could have carried on having sex with her for hours and already his desire was returning with an intensity which took his breath away, but he forced himself to roll to the other side of the large divan—as if putting distance between them was the only sensible thing he’d done all day.

‘What did you mean?’ he asked, when eventually his breathing was steady enough for him to make himself understood. ‘When you said you weren’t very experienced?’

Her eyes were wary as she looked at him—like a small animal who had inadvertently wandered into a hostile domain—and she shrugged, as if embarrassed.

‘It doesn’t matter.’

‘It does,’ he contradicted.

‘Because you say so?’

He smiled. ‘Precisely.’

She began to play with the ends of her hair. ‘You’re the only man I’ve ever had sex with.’

A sudden silence fell between them. Her answer was so unexpected that it took a moment for him to process it.

‘Why?’ he said, at last.

‘Why do you think?’ Her words came out in a rush, as if she had been bottling them up for a long time. ‘First I was pregnant and then I had a tiny baby who wasn’t very fond of sleeping, which meant I kept dozing off at various points during the day and forgetting to wash my hair and my tops always seemed to be stained with milk. That’s never really a good look. And then the baby grew into a demanding toddler who was into everything, so that I felt like some kind of maternal health and safety expert trying to keep him out of trouble. I was helping my sister with the café and trying to keep our heads above water and I...’ Her words faded away and a shuttered look came over her face, as if she’d said too much and only just realised it. ‘There was never really time for men.’

‘So if I was your first lover—’

‘You knew that?’

He gave a faint smile. ‘Of course I knew it. I may have often been accused of a lack of sensitivity towards women—but never when it comes to sex.’

Her green eyes looked confused. ‘But you didn’t...you didn’t mention it at the time.’

‘And neither did you.’ He shrugged. ‘That night was supposed to be about pleasure—not an anatomical discussion about why your hymen was still intact.’

Her green eyes spat fire as she pulled the coverlet up over her breasts. ‘How callous you can be, Dimitri!’

‘You think so?’ He narrowed his eyes as he looked at her. ‘Don’t you think that after everything which has happened between us, we now deserve the truth?’

‘Even if the truth hurts?’

‘But being hurt is a part of life. A big part of it—as is regret,’ he said. ‘And if you must know, I was angry with myself for having sex with you that night.’

‘Angry?’ She sounded bewildered. ‘Why?’

‘Because you were an employee and I liked you that way. I had crossed a line I never intended to cross. And because it is a responsibility when a man takes a woman’s virginity.’

‘Responsibility?’ She repeated the word in horror.

‘Of course it is,’ he said. ‘I didn’t want you fixating on me, or clinging to me or deciding that I was the man who was going to make you happy. And I just couldn’t work out how it had happened, that was the most frustrating thing. How years of a perfectly satisfying platonic relationship had suddenly erupted into something which was so unbelievably X-rated. So tell me, Erin—since we’re being truthful—did you choose me because you were aware of my reputation as a lover and considered me the most suitable candidate to take your virginity? Because you knew that I was the man most likely to give you pleasure?’

She didn’t answer straight away and when she did, her voice was shaking. ‘You flatter yourself,’ she said. ‘As well as misjudging me, if you think I could have been that cold-blooded about it. I didn’t choose you. It just happened.’

‘You just happened to bring a totally unnecessary batch of paperwork round to my apartment when it could have waited until morning?’

‘I was worried about you,’ she said. ‘Worried sick, if you must know. You seemed to have a permanent hangover and to exist on no sleep. Your bodyguard told me you were living like a vampire. And then he resigned and there was all that trouble in Paris and I didn’t trust your new bodyguard one bit. Every time the phone rang I thought it was going to be the hospital telling me you’d been admitted. Or the morgue telling me you were lying on a slab...’

‘So you thought a little creature comfort might bring me to my senses?’ he mocked as her words tailed off. ‘That a taste of the pure and innocent Erin Turner might be enough to make me see the error of my ways?’

‘You are hateful, Dimitri.’

‘Maybe I am. But I’ve never pretended to be anything else,’ he said, steeling himself against the hurt which was clouding her green eyes and telling himself it was better this way. Because although she’d told him she didn’t believe in love, he wasn’t sure he believed her. Women were programmed to believe in it, weren’t they? Better she didn’t start thinking he was someone who was capable of providing her with happiness. Especially not domestic happiness. ‘Didn’t anyone ever teach you that it’s a bad idea to go to a man’s apartment late at night, looking so unbelievably sexy?’

‘I was wearing my navy work suit and a white shirt!’ she protested. ‘It was hardly what you’d call provocative.’

‘Not intentionally, no.’ His voice deepened. ‘But you were. I’ll never forget the sight of you standing there, all wide-eyed and soaking wet.’

‘I didn’t know it was going to rain!’

‘And I wasn’t expecting my secretary to ring the doorbell looking as if she’d just taken part in a wet T-shirt competition.’

He hadn’t been planning to kiss her, either. It had been a combination of factors which had made something inside him snap. Her wide-eyed look of concern, which had contrasted with the erotic spectacle of that forbidding suit clinging to her slim body. Her complete obliviousness as to how sexy she looked had sealed her fate. He had been existing in such a dark place for so long and in that moment Erin had looked like a beacon of light. He’d given in to impulse and kissed her. And hadn’t the way she’d responded driven him wild? He remembered being taken aback that his unassuming secretary should suddenly morph into a little wildcat when he’d taken her in his arms. He remembered telling himself he would stop. Just one more kiss and he would definitely stop...

But he hadn’t stopped, had he? He had been unable to prevent himself from plunging into her tight, wet warmth and being the first man ever to possess her. He remembered that he had never come quite so many times in one night. That he seemed to have a permanent hard-on whenever he looked at her. Yet his conscience had troubled him afterwards and that in itself was unusual, for he had been brought up to believe that conscience was a waste of time. Had he known on some subliminal level before he’d even kissed her that she was innocent—and didn’t that make his subsequent self-contempt seem a little hypocritical?

The only honourable thing he’d done was to make sure he’d used contraception—even if it had subsequently failed. And then he had left the country.

Had he been afraid that desire would overcome him again? That he would become one of those clichéd men who slept with their secretary and she’d end up knowing everything about him, instead of just the lion’s share? Or was he just afraid that he would hurt her very badly—and someone like Erin did not deserve to be hurt.

But it seemed that he had been regarding her through rose-tinted spectacles and that she had been perfectly capable of her own brand of deception and lies. Her own brand of hurt.

An uneasy silence had fallen again and he didn’t object when she climbed off the divan and bent down to pick up her discarded clothes. He felt more in control when she was away from him and control was vital. Especially now. Because nothing had changed, he reminded himself grimly. She had kept their son hidden from him. She was no friend to him.

The armful of clothes was concealing her naked breasts, but her neck was flushed pink and the dark triangle of hair at the fork of her thighs made his body flood with another powerful wave of lust.

And it wasn’t going to happen, he told himself grimly. There was going to be no more intimacy, no matter how much he wanted it. Because sex with Erin Turner didn’t feel anonymous—it made him feel exposed and weak. And he didn’t do weak.

‘So what do you think we should do now?’ she questioned, her voice breaking into his uncomfortable thoughts.

‘Now?’ He could hear the uncertainty in her voice and it pleased him. It made him feel in control again—even if he had to shift his body beneath the coverlet to hide his growing erection. ‘I shall rest for a while as the doctor instructed—and after that I shall meet with the Sheikh, as was originally planned. I’m sure you can find plenty with which to amuse yourself in the meantime. There is a magnificent library here in the palace, or you could ask one of the servants to show you around the gardens. I believe they are very famous.’ He let his heavy eyelids fall and failed to stifle a yawn as he blotted out the unsettling look of distress in her eyes. ‘But I am weary now, Erin—so let me sleep.’

CHAPTER EIGHT

HOW COULD SHE?

Erin walked to the edge of the man-made lake which dominated the sheltered grounds at the rear of the palace and stared gloomily at the gleaming water. How could she have done something so fundamentally self-destructive? She’d had sex with Dimitri. Despite knowing that it was the action of a fool, she had walked straight into it.

The sun dazzled off the glittering surface of the lake and now and then an exotic bird would swoop down to drink. These gardens were like an oasis—one of the most beautiful places she’d ever visited—yet all Erin could think about was that erotic episode on the divan yesterday, following Dimitri’s riding accident.

He’d been so matter-of-fact about it afterwards, displaying a cold-bloodedness she remembered from watching him doing countless business deals. Once that amazing bout of sex was over, he seemed to have retreated from her—physically and mentally—just like last time. He hadn’t touched her again, had just rolled over and turned his back on her and gone to sleep. And even though she’d told herself that his body was still recovering from the accident on the horse—it had only increased her feelings of mortification.

She had gone back to her own suite, feeling empty and a little bit cheap, and the long shower she’d taken afterwards hadn’t made her feel much better. But she had done her best to stay calm and tried very hard to keep herself occupied, because activity stopped her brooding and dwelling on what she’d done. She explored the palace library as Dimitri had suggested and made it her personal mission to find her way around the bewildering maze of wide marble corridors which made up the Al Mektala residence. She spent several hours being driven out into the desert—accompanied by the woman who had brought the fire-berry lotion to Dimitri’s suite, who actually turned out to be very sweet. And although she had tried to take in the stark beauty of the stark desert sands, unwanted images of Dimitri’s ice-blue eyes kept flashing through her mind.

And he hadn’t come near her. He hadn’t touched her, or kissed her. There had been no silent message which had passed between them to acknowledge their shared intimacy.

Erin kept trying to convince herself that this new stand-off was sensible. More sex would complicate an already complicated situation—she knew that. Yet she was finding his behaviour more wounding than any open hostility. He was treating her with all the polite indifference he might have shown to a passing waitress at a cocktail party. As if the man who had kissed her so passionately yesterday morning was nothing but a figment of her imagination. She found herself dressing for their final dinner at the palace with a heavy heart.

When he knocked, she opened the door to find him wearing a darker than usual suit, which made him look powerful and forbidding.

‘I’m having a final meeting with Saladin before dinner, so I’ll come back and collect you once it’s over,’ he said, his hair gleaming molten gold beneath the glittering chandelier. ‘Oh, and we will leave for London tomorrow. The jet will be ready for us in the morning. I’m sure you’ll be keen to get back.’

‘Absolutely.’ Erin was determined to match his cool demeanour even though her teeth were gritted behind her smile. ‘I’ll ring my sister.’

‘You spoke to her earlier?’

‘Yes.’

‘How’s Leo?’ he asked suddenly.

‘He’s fine.’

There was a pause. ‘He hasn’t missed you too much?’

‘It’s barely been two days.’ She hesitated, because this was the closest they’d come to conversation since they’d had sex and she found herself wanting to prolong it. To pretend that everything was normal when nothing felt normal. ‘Has the Sheikh come to any decision about selling you the oil fields?’

He finished knotting his tie—a blue silk affair one shade darker than his eyes. ‘He says he’ll give me his answer this evening. Though I suspect that is simply a formality and his answer will be yes.’

‘You sound surprised.’

‘I suppose I am—a little. After all these years of one step forward, two steps back—the deal has been much more straightforward than I ever anticipated.’

‘Because you saved his life?’

He shrugged. ‘Probably.’

She shifted from one foot to the other, aware that her composure was in danger of deserting her as the reality of returning to London loomed before her. ‘What’s going to happen when we get back?’

He lifted his dark brows in query. ‘In regard to?’

Her heart began to pound. ‘Leo, of course. About you...getting to know him.’

He raised his eyebrows. ‘You would prefer it if I didn’t?’

To Erin’s horror his words struck a chord, highlighting a part of herself she didn’t like. A selfish, horrible part which made her wish he would just disappear and take with him his ability to inflict pain and hurt on her stupidly vulnerable heart. ‘No,’ she said, wondering if he could hear the hesitation in her voice. ‘That isn’t what I want, but...’

‘But? You still think I’m unsuitable? I’ve failed the Erin Turner fit-to-be-a-father test? You think I’ll be dragging him to the nearest bar or casino as soon as he’s old enough?’

She met the challenge in his eyes, reminding herself that her own feelings weren’t the issue here—but those of her son were paramount. And Dimitri needed to know that. He needed to know that she would fight with everything she possessed to protect her little boy from being hurt or disappointed.

‘No, I don’t think that,’ she said. ‘You don’t seem like that kind of man any more. But there are other considerations, Dimitri.’

‘To do with you?’

She shook her head. Did he think she was about to start clinging to him because they’d just had sex? ‘No. To do with him. I don’t want you coming into his life on a whim. You can’t just waltz in and tell him you’re his father and decide you don’t really like fatherhood—before disappearing again.’

‘So what are you suggesting?’

‘I’m just asking you to give it a little time before you tell him who you are. In case you want to walk away. I’m giving you an opt-out clause in case you change your mind.’ She held up her hand, as if anticipating his objections. ‘Because children take up a lot of time. They’re demanding. They need love and reassurance and stability—and it’s constant. You can’t just close the door on them and tell them to go away. You’ve always lived life on your terms, Dimitri—more than anyone else I’ve ever known. You might find the responsibilities of parenthood don’t suit you, and if that’s the case, then that’s fine. No one is going to condemn you for that—least of all me. I just don’t want you making promises to him. Promises you are unable to keep. Surely you can understand that?’

Their gazes clashed for a moment before he nodded his head.

‘Yes, I can understand,’ he said as he left her suite and headed towards the Sheikh’s private apartments, thinking about everything she’d said and the painful honesty with which she’d chosen her words. He was beginning to understand now that when it came to Leo, she was the one with all the power and it was rare for him to be in the weaker position. Was that why he had stayed away from her since the erotic encounter after his riding accident—because that was his way of wielding power? He had known that he could have taken her in his arms at any time and had her gasping with desire within minutes. But something had stopped him.

What was it? Something to do with the way she made him feel? As if he were some sort of jigsaw which had been scattered and she was eager to put all the pieces back together again. And he didn’t want that. He didn’t want anyone reconstructing him.

The corridors were cool as he walked towards the Sheikh’s private apartments and he could see the outline of the moon beginning to appear in the still blue sky. He thought how ironic it was that for months this had been the one thing he’d wanted above all else. A deal with Saladin Al Mektala. Oil in exchange for diamonds. A foothold in the Middle East at last and a triumph to eclipse all his most recent triumphs.

But suddenly its allure seemed to have faded and all he could think about was the little boy with the golden hair and eyes so like his own. And inevitably those thoughts led back to Erin...

He was shown into a high-ceilinged room which resembled a cross between a library and a study. Oil paintings of magnificent horses lined the walls and priceless artefacts drew the eye like museum pieces. On the Sheikh’s desk was a photo of Saladin holding the prestigious Omar Cup, a gleaming chestnut stallion beside him, and Dimitri took a moment to study it.

‘That was one of my proudest moments,’ said Saladin, his deep voice breaking the silence as he emerged from the shadows of the room, his eyes following the direction of the Russian’s gaze.

‘But?’ said Dimitri, lifting his gaze from the photo and supplying the word which seemed to hang in the air, like the rich incense which scented the room.

The Sheikh’s eyes gleamed as he sat down behind the desk and indicated a chair opposite for Dimitri.

‘Victory seems irrelevant when you are forced to face your own mortality as I have had to do,’ he said heavily. ‘If it had been another man but you racing against me, I might not be here today—for the desert lands breed many enemies who would have been glad to see me disfigured, or to have perished. Who would have enjoyed seeing me fall beneath all the galloping power of those two mighty horses, knowing that I have no living heir and that all my lands would pass into the hands of a distant branch of the family.’ The king’s black eyes gleamed. ‘But then, few men other than you would have accepted my challenge to race, for all kinds of reasons.’