His Best Acquisition: The Russian's Acquisition / A Deal Before the Altar / A Deal with Demakis

He set heavy hands on either side of her waist and leaned over her, taking his time studying her breasts, making her breath hitch as she felt a need to shield herself again, but resisted it. She couldn’t help watching his face with a timid need for approval. She wasn’t voluptuous. Would she be enough to gratify him?

His expression grew tight as he looked her over. A shudder quaked across his shoulders and it was a long time before he finally met her searching gaze.

She couldn’t hide how defenseless she felt, splayed before him.

“Nice,” he said in guttural English.

Nice? Her stomach plummeted at the bland word. She wasn’t even sure he meant it, but was distracted from questioning him when he grasped her wrists and slid her fists above her head. At the same time, he pressed a knee between hers and opened her legs, lowering himself onto her in a blanket of soft, crushing weight.

Clair moaned in startled delight under him, twisting against his grip, but Aleksy kept her firmly clasped.

If he allowed her to touch him right now, Aleksy thought, if he didn’t have a barrier between his tight hide and her downy skin, he’d lose it. It had been all he could do to find an English word to describe how exquisite she was.

He forced himself to remember that she was toying with him, trying to win a power struggle he hadn’t started, but was determined to win. Stroking his free hand down her arm, past her breast, over her hip and along her thigh, he curled her calf over his lower back, resenting the wool that kept him from feeling the caress of her skin against his own. He shifted and pressed his groin tight to hers, thin layers of cotton and denim between. She was utterly at his mercy and he took full advantage, rocking himself against her, wanting her to lose control before he did.

Acute arousal hued her cheeks and glazed her eyes. Her hips lifted to increase the pressure, almost sending him over the edge, but the helpless noise she made was worth the torture she was inflicting on him by drawing this out. He was winning, but barely.

Scorching excitement seared Clair’s breath from her lungs as Aleksy teased her. She couldn’t move, couldn’t speak, could only whimper in ecstatic sufferance. She’d kept men at a distance all her life, feeling superior to other women because she hadn’t believed men really offered this kind of pleasure. She’d never felt this susceptible, but she was caving now. Completely and utterly. Breathing in his aggressive male scent like a drug.

He cupped her bare breast, his palm hot and possessive. Once a month her breasts felt swollen like this, overfull and incredibly sensitive, but never this sweet. His heavy touch assuaged the ache and incited it. Her nipple grew painfully engorged, ripening under his hot stare like a cherry in the sun. He drew circles with his thumb, massaged and shaped the swell, traced the aureole and refused to give her what she wanted. What she instinctively needed.

“Aleksy, please,” she begged.

He swooped like a hawk, his masculine groan muffling as he covered the tingling tip with his hot mouth. The erotic pull almost lifted her off the bed. Moist heat flooded into her sex, completely beyond her ability to rule it. All of her became a throbbing pulse of hot need. The power of the feelings daunted her, but she reveled in them at the same time, exalted by the sense of being purely woman. When he moved to her other breast, she arched to offer herself, unable to contain her ragged moan.

His hand caressed the back of her thigh, followed the sensitive inner skin to the leg of her underpants. A sure finger slinked beneath, stroking into folds that were slick and incredibly sensitive. She had thought she knew what her body was capable of, but his touch made her jerk her hips under the intensity of pleasure. The tremendous intimacy, his confidence, the way he pressed to sustain the tantalizing peak—

“Oh, Aleksy…” she moaned.

He skimmed his touch away. “You didn’t ask for that, did you?” His eyes had gone black and inscrutable. The cruel curl at the edges of his mouth told her he wasn’t as innocent as he was playing. “Do you want me to touch you? Or—” He hooked his elbow behind her knee, hitching her ankle onto his shoulder. “—kiss you?”

A fresh flood of craving poured into her loins. She instinctively tried to close her legs against the betraying reaction, but she met the resistance of his muscled back.

“Yes?” he murmured, touching a kiss to her breastbone, then lower. His hot mouth opened against her trembling belly, lightly biting before he applied suction in a delicate sting of healing. “Shall I remove your panties with my teeth?”

She couldn’t be completely naked under him while he was fully clothed. She couldn’t. “Take off your clothes first,” she gasped.

He slowly pulled away, the retreat of his body a caress that drew out the pleasure and gave her plenty of time to appreciate the cooling pain of losing him. It also brought a moment of clarity. She realized her knee lay crooked open and her panties were wet. Her stomach quivered with tension, her nipples stood taut with arousal on breasts that rose and fell with her ragged breaths.

Inhibition was gone. She didn’t care how she looked or behaved, only that he continue making love to her.

Aleksy strained under his self-imposed leash. His blazing arousal burned him alive and every male instinct in him screamed to possess her. Begged to.

She twisted her slim body, so graceful and beguiling he had to catch back a groan of pure need. Logical thoughts disappeared from his mind. All he knew was that she tasted like summer, smelled like nectarines and ran like warm honey under his touch. Hands and mouth weren’t enough to sate him. His body needed to be inside hers. His erection throbbed harder and thicker than ever in his life, desperate to spear into her.

Her taunt about going too fast was the only thing that kept him standing over her, hiding his ravenous desire behind a stoic mask while her beautiful image slithered on the spread before him. She wanted to make him crazy and it was working, but he wouldn’t give her the satisfaction of knowing it. He wouldn’t show her any more mercy than she was showing him. She could play games, but he would drive her to a screaming pitch, erasing anything from her mind except the same imperative eating him alive.

“Aleksy?” Her languid eyes darkened with a moment of doubt.

He let a slow grin steer across his face, liking that she wasn’t assured of her lead over him. “I was waiting for your command,” he mocked, peeling his pullover up and off, tossing it to the floor. There was no relief from the sweat of arousal sheening his back and chest. A conflagration of desire continued to scorch from the pit of his gut to the back of his throat, prickling his skin. Demanding action.

“Oh…” Her weak sigh might have made his lips twist in cynical amusement. It was, after all, a sound he’d heard before when he stripped, but the way she licked her lips sent a rod of need through his hard flesh, swiping other women from his mind.

“What does that mean?” he growled, barely able to find his English. “Do this slower?” He peeled open his jeans, then forced his hands to stop. One fell away to his side; the other dipped two fingers into his pocket, bringing out the condom.

Something flickered in her gaze. Confusion. Recognition. Consternation?

“You don’t want me completely naked, do you?” The thought of being uncovered for the first time in his life, in her was enough to make him need a moment to regroup. With thumbs hooked in his waistband, he fought a complete loss of control, eyes pinned to the wink and tremor of her navel.

How he wanted her.

“Naked but protected,” she eventually said, as if she thought he’d been waiting for her answer. It sounded innocent, almost as if she wasn’t confident he’d get there unless she requested it. Her voice made him shudder with hunger.

He would get there. Oh, yes. Definitely.

Carefully he eased his jeans and shorts off his hips, dropping them and kicking them away, forcing his hands to hang loose, revealing none of his excruciating tension as he straightened.

She studied him in a long, taut silence, something he allowed because he was going to look at her the same way very soon. Still, he grew unbearably hard and thick under her gaze. His skin would split if she didn’t let him have her soon.

“You’re—” she began faintly.

He clenched the packet between his teeth and tore it open, then rolled on the latex, aware of the fine trembling that betrayed him.

“Ready,” he said, finishing her sentence. “Are you?”

She didn’t say anything, only looked at him with wide eyes, the reflections in them a swirl of emotions he couldn’t interpret. Was she trying to tease him into insanity? He reached out to hook a finger in her panties at her hip, giving her plenty of time to slow him down.

She didn’t and as he peeled them off, he had one satisfaction at least. Her nest was spun gold, darker blond than her hair, but only a little. In his periphery, he saw her hand move convulsively, but he prevented her from covering herself.

“You’re too beautiful to hide, my golden one,” he murmured, distantly aware he’d spoken in Russian but what did words matter when the need to touch consumed him? He drew a soft line through her curls, finding slippery silk and—

She arched as though electrified, breath hissing in.

“Yes,” he agreed. “Now.” He hiked her up the bed as he covered her, spreading her thighs with his own.

She reacted to the touch of his body as if he’d burned her, shrinking into the mattress before squirming to stroke herself against him, a whimper of surrender trembling from her lips. Her hands slid over him, meeting at his spine. Her legs bent to bracket his hips, and her skin was hot and soft. Delicate and feminine and enthralling.

“I didn’t know anyone could make me feel like this,” she whispered with an ache in her voice.

He didn’t want to hear about other men. The mere suggestion shook him out of his blind, ferocious need and brought him back to reality. Was she trying to incite him with jealousy? Well, he would be the only man on her mind right now.

“Do you want me?” he growled.

“So much.” She pushed her breasts and stomach against him, cheek rubbing his shaved one like a cat begging to be stroked.

“This?” He guided the tip of his erection to part and find the center of her.

She caught her breath and stilled.

He ground his teeth, waiting in agony.

Slowly she slid herself against him, rocking her hips, nearly exploding his mind as she teased them both with a hesitant, barely there caress. “Oh, yes,” she breathed.

He thrust.

CHAPTER SIX

HER STARTLED SCREAM was quickly choked off, but it was a cry of pain.

Through his shock, Aleksy recognized that his shoulders burned under the cut of her fingernails. Engorged and rampant, his erection ached at the tight pressure stopping him from finishing his entry. Beneath him, Clair had gone stiff and taut.

For several racing heartbeats, he held motionless with incomprehension.

A strained whisper stirred the air near his ear. “I didn’t think it would hurt that much.”

Her words didn’t fully penetrate, but Aleksy instinctively tried to pull back.

Clair squeaked and clamped her legs on him. “Please don’t move.”

Understanding hit him in waves. This wasn’t a misjudged case of too much too soon. This was— She was—

“You’re a virgin?” He was amazed he found the word. And so loudly.

She flinched. Her hands slid to his ribs, and her tangled lashes trembled with uncertainty. “Not anymore?”

“I don’t do virgins,” he bit out, but he was locked indelibly inside one. How? His normally agile brain wanted answers, but sensations crowded his ability to think. She was tight and tense, silky and hot and vulnerable. He was livid, knew this was wrong, but couldn’t draw away. His body was shaking, intense sexual arousal riding his pulse, sending all the wrong signals when he was compelled to be still. This couldn’t be happening. He had to stop it.

“Please don’t ruin it,” she said faintly.

It? He was ruining her.

* * *

The sharp pain was subsiding, leaving a sting and a deep awareness of the hard length lodged inside her, hot and still.

He was furious. There was no hiding from that unpleasant reality, but Clair was more caught up in how her body was trying to accommodate his intrusion. Her internal muscles flexed. An answering pulse, surprisingly erotic, made her melt around him. He settled a fraction more deeply inside her.

Her breath hitched and so did his.

She let hers go slowly, unable to look at him. His harsh I don’t do virgins was still cutting her in two. She didn’t know what to do! Her skin was still sensitized and wanting to be stroked. His penetration transfixed her. It was incredibly intimate but wickedly persuasive. She felt as if she stood in the doorway to a new understanding and desperately wanted to grasp the concept.

While she could tell he wanted to exit stage right.

Tears of frustration gathered in her eyes. “Please—”

“Stop saying that,” he rasped, hands moving to cup her head. His thumbs drew circles at the corners of her eyes, rubbing the leaking dampness into her temples. “When you’re ready, we’ll finish this.”

He sounded gruff but almost tender. The kiss he touched to her lips was gentle. Brief but followed by one a little longer. A little more thorough.

She sighed in relief. He wasn’t giving up on her. As he took her mouth, she curled her arms around him, pulling him into her, wanting to feel all of him. When she tilted her pelvis, he slid home. There was a final sting, but—oh—such a sense of rightness. Too many sensations to pick apart and name. She was all feeling and he was part of it. All of it. She squirmed against him, filling her hands with him, seeking maximum contact while reveling in the fresh magic of being possessed by him.

He kissed her with ravenous generosity, exciting kisses that transmitted joyous signals through her, making her move against him.

Thick Russian words filled her ear as he slid his wet mouth down her neck, tucked his hand under her bottom, carefully withdrew and thrust.

It felt so perfect, so good. Clair threw back her head, a lusty groan tearing raggedly from her lips. She couldn’t speak, could only embrace this primitive state and encourage him with ancient signals, stretching and arching beneath him, moaning her pleasure.

Urgency built, quickening their rhythm. The sensations were so acute she wanted to scream. She needed more. “Please, Aleksy, please.”

With a growl, he thrust faster, offering what she craved, taking and giving, straining over her, driving her to a peak, holding her there, pushing her off…

She fell, but into flight. Breathless, soaring flight. Distantly aware of his guttural yell, she rose to skim the sun, where she burst into brilliant, ecstatic flames. It was the most delicious death until, like the sparks from a spent firecracker, she drifted in pieces back to earth.

* * *

Aleksy reeled as he left her. Dealing with the condom was his excuse, not that he voiced it, but he had to get away from her. He was spent, body twitching with exertion and coated in sweat, but he wanted her again. She was like Christmas dinner, when it didn’t matter that he’d already gorged himself. Greed for more consumed him.

He splashed cold water on his face, then glared in self-disgust at his reflection, his scar standing brilliant white against his flushed skin.

Incredible, mind-shattering sex that shouldn’t have happened at any pace. You’re going too fast. No wonder she’d been so shy about surrendering to passion. And when she had…

Please don’t ruin it. What was he supposed to have done? Left her frustrated and disappointed by her first experience with a man? Would that have salvaged something of the civilized gentleman in him?

As if there’d ever been anything civilized in him, he thought with bitter self-recrimination, old blades of guilt and abhorrence flashing between himself and his image. He was well aware of the primitive forces in him. He held them in check with his rigid standards, always. Shame and contempt filled him for dallying with a virgin. He’d stolen from a man he didn’t even know.

How dare she put him in this position?

He moved back to the bedroom to confront his mistake and found her sitting up, the sheet knotted in her fist against her collarbone leaving her pale shoulders bare.

She looked like a bride on her honeymoon, thoroughly tumbled, lips puffy and ripe, hair tousled, expression still retaining some vulnerable innocence while her new knowledge made her skim a hesitant, admiring look over his frame.

That look was a baited hook that caught in his gut. Lower even. The erection that hadn’t completely subsided pulsed with renewed life.

He hated the response he couldn’t control; he refused to be led by it, especially where she no doubt thought she could take him. Planting his feet hard on the floor, he crossed his arms and stood at his full height.

“I won’t marry you.” His cold warning grounded out the sexual electricity still crackling in the air.

Her shoulders flinched before she steadied them. “Did I ask you to?”

“It’s reasonable to assume you’re trolling for a proposal with this little gesture, especially ahead of the money transfer, but forget it. I’m not the marrying kind.” She wouldn’t have tried this if she knew what a monster he really was.

“What little gesture?” She lifted haughty eyebrows.

“A woman’s virginity belongs to her husband.” He’d never forgive himself for this. Fooling around with experienced women was one thing. They had the same unclouded views he did. Innocents had expectations he would never live up to. “I didn’t ask for your virginity, so don’t think you can guilt me into making restitution for it.”

She reddened with insult. Or anger. He didn’t let himself dwell on what she might be feeling so long as he was driving his point home.

“A woman’s virginity belongs to her husband?” she repeated through her teeth. “Welcome to the twenty-first century where a woman’s body belongs to her. It doesn’t look like you’re saving yourself for marriage.”

“It’s a good thing one of us knew what he was doing.” Although he hadn’t. She’d neglected to inform him of one very salient detail. She was craftier than he’d given her credit for, coldcocking him with that one.

“We all have to start somewhere. What good is waiting for a husband who hasn’t once shown up when I needed him? I’m stuck with taking care of myself, aren’t I?”

“And this is how you chose to do it? By throwing away your virginity for hard cash?” Precisely the type of woman he usually dealt with and yes, he supposed they had all started somewhere. He was still left with a pall of disappointment in both of them.

Astonished hurt parted her lips.

Out of habit, he mercilessly sealed over the fissure her crushed expression threatened to make in his conscience, closing himself off to any emotional appeals. Best if she understood he had no heart, but then something in him stirred. Perhaps she really was romantic enough to believe this sort of thing led to a lifetime commitment. The weight of being unable to live up to that expectation settled heavily on his shoulders.

She surprised him by masking her hurt. As though shrugging into a coat, she pulled on an air of dignity. “I made a choice that was mine alone to make. I’m not the marrying kind either.”

He snorted. Innocents like her dreamed of a family. If his own family were alive, they’d expect better of him than the way he was behaving right now. Of course, if they were alive, he’d still be an innocent like her.

“You don’t know me,” she said with quiet assertion. “You don’t even want to. I’m only spoils of war to you. I trust your grudge is satisfied and you’ll leave me now?”

The cool, pithy words struck his abdominals like punches. That wasn’t what this was. Despite hating himself for not realizing sooner that he was her first, the basest male part of him was already anticipating tasting her shoulders and neck again, stroking the warm silk of her back and thighs, making her writhe against him until she was ready to take him into her. And it had nothing to do with revenge.

He didn’t want to leave her—which stunned him—but she had to be tender. He hadn’t been as gentle as he would have been if he’d known… if he’d known…

His skull threatened to split under the pressure of conflicting imperatives. He had to leave her. For now.

CHAPTER SEVEN

CLAIR WOKE IN an unfamiliar place, mind blanking with alarm before her memory rushed back. She sat up, still in Aleksy’s bed, still naked and very much no longer a virgin. Anxiety quickly faded to relief as she saw she was alone. She couldn’t have dealt with him and her mental disarray. Stunned disbelief bounced off crazy elation and crashed into an inferno of embarrassment.

Hugging her knees, she tucked a hot face into them and tried to countenance how she’d let Aleksy do all that to her. She hadn’t grown up with a lot of affection; nor did she possess any long-denied, deep-seated needs for physical closeness.

Yet she’d reveled in Aleksy’s caresses, giving herself over to him without inhibition.

Her heart wrenched as she recalled that the singular experience had cost her his respect. What kind of throwback had such archaic views on virginity? His judgment and contempt had hurt, not that she should care what he thought, but a weak part of her did. She wanted to know he’d enjoyed their coming together as much as she had.

Physical satisfaction was secondary for him, she knew. He’d taken her to strike at Victor and he’d walked out right after, his interest in her gone with the same lightning speed he’d developed it. No one had ever wanted her for the long haul. It was silly to imagine that a man like him, who could have anybody, would be any different.

The door creaked, startling her.

He caught her unprepared for the impact he had on her. He was still wearing the crushed pullover and snug jeans from last night, but he wore confidence like a visible aura so radiant she needed sunglasses. His hair was damp, the short cut combed uncompromisingly to the side. She knew how those soft strands smelled. How they felt between her fingers. Against her breasts.

His gaze locked with hers as though he read the memories she tried to repress. She died a little at being incapable of locking him out, nipples hardening with remembrance of his mouth, loins pooling with excitement for him.

It was distressing to react this strongly, to relive these sensations without him even touching her. It was a massive invasion of privacy. Against her will, her mind zeroed in on that safe moment when they’d been unequivocally linked. He’d been a lover then. She’d felt cherished, not bare and self-conscious like now. Everything in her yearned toward that memory like a flower seeking the warmth of the sun.

But that man was gone. This was the man with the grudge. To him she was a pawn on a chessboard to be tipped over and taken with ice-cold deliberation. And he’d done it.

This was the get up and get out moment, she supposed, her pulse racing.

“Hungry?” He sounded ironic, his deep voice abrading her taut nerves.

Was he taunting her for skipping dinner in favor of sating herself with him? It was cruel. She dug into her deepest reserves of composure, the way she’d done when the school bullies had taunted her.

“I could eat.” She lifted her chin and kept her gaze steady, ignoring that she was on fire inside. Other women were capable of relegating sex to something as mundane as chatting over coffee. She needed to be exactly that unaffected. She needed to get this awkward morning after finished and get out of here. “Why? Do you not know how to boil your own egg? You need me to do it?”