She reached down and yanked her clothing back up over her bare skin, struggling with clumsy hands to retie the straps. He dragged her hands out of the way and performed the task for her.
‘I don’t do stuff like this,’ she muttered as if she was excusing herself, but her eager body refused to resist when he tugged her back into his arms.
‘This is different. We’re different. I’ve never been so hot for anyone as I am for you, milaya.’ Long fingers delving into her mass of rippling red curls, Nikolai muttered something else in Russian and pressed her hand against his aching groin with an explicit need that shocked and excited her in equal degrees. That bold invitation fascinated her. With a thrill of awareness she felt the hard thrusting power and shape of his boldly aroused manhood beneath the barrier of his trousers. Lightheaded with the strength of her desire, she moaned beneath the marauding ravishment of his hot mouth, her fingers sliding between his shirt and his belt to explore the taut hair-roughened skin of his flat, muscular stomach and trace the aggressive length of his erection. He groaned beneath her inexpert ministrations and that open responsiveness and unashamed hunger of his allowed her to glory in her feminine power for the first time in her life. She felt drunk on the daring of what she was doing.
‘I want you now…I don’t want to wait,’ Nikolai growled thickly.
That uncharacteristic sense of daring that had momentarily fired Abbey shrivelled and died. She whipped her hand away from him, shattered by her total loss of control. ‘This is wrong…this is not me. I hardly know you.’
‘You know everything that matters,’ Nikolai told her harshly as the limousine came to a halt.
Abbey glanced out in confusion at the apartment building in one of London’s most exclusive residential areas. ‘Where are we?’
‘My home.’
‘I assumed we’d be dining out some place,’ Abbey remarked uncomfortably as the passenger door beside her opened.
‘The paparazzi give me no peace in public places.’
Abbey knew that had to be true. Press interest in his movements, most particularly his love-life, was considerable and she had no wish to see her own name in print next to his. His minders urged her protectively towards the steps and the door already opening for their entrance.
‘Will you need me again this evening, sir?’ his chauffeur enquired.
‘No. I’ll see you in the morning,’ Nikolai responded easily.
Colour flushing her cheeks and dismay and annoyance flaring within at that revealing instruction, Abbey breathed in slow and deep and smoothed down her frock before crossing the elegant foyer to board the waiting lift.
‘Could I have a word with you?’ Abbey asked Nikolai in a civil tone as she passed by the middle-aged manservant on the doorstep of his penthouse apartment.
A moment later, she was in a spectacular high-ceilinged reception room decorated in opulent shades of cream and gold and furnished with polished antiques. Nikolai closed the door and quirked a questioning black brow. ‘What’s the problem?’
‘The problem? I heard what you said to your driver when you told him you wouldn’t need him again this evening. I’m not sleeping with you tonight and how dare you assume that I will!’
Nikolai dealt her a frowning appraisal.
‘You’re not about to persuade me otherwise, so don’t waste your time trying!’ Abbey continued furiously, her temper rising at the uneasy suspicion that her conduct in the limo had given him every reason to hope that she might well share his bed without any further ado…
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