Seduced into the Greek's World. Dani Collins

her redoubled as Demitri pulsed and rocked, his body arched against hers in ecstasy, his cries triumphant, extending her sensation so she could only gasp and tremble, utterly helpless to their combined climax. He held her so tightly she was sure she’d bruise, but she didn’t care. Nothing hurt. All the dark spaces inside her glowed hotly. Her entire being flooded with bliss and perfection. She never wanted it to end.

      But the quivering pulses eventually died away. Her awareness returned to their ragged breaths and the hard marble under her bottom and the coat of sweat on his skin against her own layer of perspiration.

      Embarrassment struck like a hammer. She’d been so easy. She’d just had a one-night stand—literally with him on his feet.

      Lifting his head, Demitri stole a few tissues from the box near her hip and eased from her. When he stepped away and turned his back, she forced her weak legs together and prayed they’d hold her as she unsteadily found her feet.

      He walked into the first door down the hall. A powder room, she imagined, but didn’t stick around to find out.

      Mortified, she grabbed her purse and left without a word.

      * * *

      Demitri was barely forming thoughts. Deep in the back of his mind he knew what had happened with Natalie was wrong, but that wasn’t why he’d sought a moment to pull himself together. He was fairly shameless when it came to right and wrong, but not usually so audacious as to take a woman inside the door like a sailor with a doxy. He might get his date into the mood in the lounge, but he never lost control there, not so completely.

      That loss of sense made him uneasy. He loved sex, loved the escape and pleasure a woman’s body offered him, but what he’d just done with Natalie had been the wrong kind of mindlessness. As impulsive as he was accused of being, he typically knew exactly what he was doing at all times. How much damage and why.

      In this case he’d cast any sense of consequence to the wind. She’d waved him in and he’d slid home.

      And he wanted to do it again. In a bed this time. Again and again.

      That was unsettling. He had a very healthy appetite for sex, but sex was sex and women were women. He never, ever thought things like, I want her.

      Probably best to walk her back to her room and cut this short.

      Avoiding his own gaze in the mirror, he closed his pants, but left his shirt open. One damp hand lifted to rub away the itch of drying sweat on his chest as he walked back to the lounge. His muscles still felt quivery and weak...

      Where was she? Her coat was still there on the sofa, so...

      “Natalie?”

      In the bedroom? A strange relief flicked through him. The night wasn’t over after all. He ought to be uncomfortable with her making assumptions, but all he could think was that he could sate this disturbing desire to have her again. How could he be this restless and hungry when he was still buzzing with orgasm?

      She wasn’t in his room.

      Of course, she wouldn’t know which one was his.

      “Natalie,” he called, pushing open all the doors as he went, even the ones to the room the children used, but she wasn’t in any of them. Kitchen?

      As he went through the lounge, he glanced at the table by the door and noted her purse was gone. A sick lurch hit the pit of his stomach and panged a little higher when he saw the scrap of black lace he’d snapped and discarded on the floor.

      Oddly uncomfortable with the evidence of their passion lying where housekeeping could find it—really not like him to have such a sudden and acute need for privacy—he stuffed the lingerie in his pocket and glanced into the hall outside the suite.

      Empty.

      Grabbing his room card, he went all the way to the elevator and hit the button. The doors opened immediately, so the car hadn’t moved since they’d left it less than thirty minutes ago.

      Baffled, he went back into his suite and did another search.

      Had she taken the stairs?

      He dialed her room.

      She answered with a brisk “Hello... Bonjour.”

      “Natalie?”

      A tiny pause, then, “Yes?”

      “It’s Demitri.”

      “I know. I recognize your voice.”

      Another pause, this one longer. He was waiting for her to explain why she’d left, but there was an expectant curiosity on her side, as though she was waiting for him to tell her why he’d called.

      It dawned on him that she hadn’t expected him to call.

      When had he last called a woman in a timely fashion after a tryst, let alone within minutes of their parting?

      “Oh, I forgot my coat!” she groaned in realization. “Rookie mistake. I’m sorry. That could be awkward, couldn’t it? Can you sneak it into the small meeting room on the second floor first thing tomorrow morning? That’s where we’re doing the group training sessions. I’ll pretend I brought it so I wouldn’t have to go to my room before leaving for lunch.”

      “Sounds elaborate,” he commented with false calm, feeling like the rookie here as a hot, spurned sensation followed the word sneak. He told himself to go along with her plan and count himself lucky she hadn’t read more into their evening than was warranted, but he still found himself speaking in a low, uncomfortably dry voice. “I could bring it to you now. Or you could come back.”

      “People are going to talk enough after seeing me go to dinner with you. I’d rather pretend nothing else happened.”

      Ouch. He scowled across the empty lounge of his quiet suite.

      “Is that why you left without saying good-night?” he asked. “You were afraid of being talked about?” Repercussions were not something he worried about. What she needed, he decided, was a demonstration of how quickly his credit card could swipe away any worries she might have. There really wasn’t much that couldn’t be resolved that way, and he was realizing that he’d happily pay whatever it took to get her back to his room and into his bed.

      “I sure as heck didn’t relish doing the walk of shame in the morning,” she replied, delivering a second, startlingly efficient kick to his gut. Most women regarded sex with him as a badge of honor. Having her treat it as if it was something dirty was surprisingly demoralizing.

      “I’m sorry if it was rude to leave like that, but it is a work night so I should, um, get some rest... I had a really nice time, though. Thanks.” Click.

       Seriously?

      He set down the phone and stared at it, tension increasing by the second.

      “Let it go,” he said aloud, but his brain yelled, Seriously?

      He looked at her coat draped over the back of the sofa. Defiance took him across to pick it up. Her scent wafted into his nostrils, confusing him with a swirl of misgivings and conscience and sexual hunger.

      He put it down as though it was soaked in combustibles. His hands continued to tingle even when he closed them into fists.

      She was doing him a favor, he told himself. They’d had no business taking a professional relationship to such a personal level. Leaving it as a one-night stand was absolutely the best thing to do.

      Hell, the best thing he could do would be to put on a fresh shirt, go back to the club and pick up another woman. He would, he decided.

      But didn’t move.

      In his head, he heard that movie star say, I thought you were finished with her.

      The graveled anger returned to the pit of his gut and he didn’t understand it. Yes, he picked up social climbers and took them