One Night with a Gorgeous Greek. Sarah Morgan

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СКАЧАТЬ There was an ominous pause and she could see the thought appalled him. His eyes locked on hers and suddenly thoughts of her father and his sister faded into the background. In the distance she heard the insistent cacophony of car horns, the shriek of tyres as Parisians drove their city like a racetrack, but the loudest sound was the insistent thrumming of her pulse.

      Suddenly it was hard to keep a grip on the conversation. ‘Chemistry,’ she croaked. ‘I’m just saying that chemistry can be a powerful thing.’ Or so she’d heard. Truthfully she couldn’t imagine a sexual attraction so strong that it overpowered caution but she wasn’t going to admit that to a red-blooded male whose sexual prowess was the subject of hushed rumour. ‘Perhaps it was something they couldn’t walk away from. I don’t know.’

      There was a long silence and then his strong hands captured her face and he lowered his mouth to hers. Caught off guard, Polly tumbled headlong into the addictive heat of his kiss, her mouth colliding with his in a fusion of intimacy that was shocking in its intensity. The exploding heat was fierce enough to fuel a nuclear reactor, the hunger so all-consuming it devoured her preconceptions about just how a kiss could feel because this kiss was like no other. Damon kissed the way he did everything else, with the instinctive assurance of someone who knew he was the very best at everything. That clever, sensuous mouth drove everything from her mind and he controlled it all, from the angle of her head to the depth of the kiss, the skilled erotic slide of his tongue taking over her mind, her body, her soul. She didn’t feel him move his hands but he must have done because suddenly she was flattened against his hard thighs, the contours of their bodies blending as fiery heat licked through her. Burning up, she slid her palms over his chest, feeling male muscle and latent strength. Her mouth still fused with his, she slid her fingers between the buttons of his shirt, desperate to touch, frantic to feel. Instantly his hand tightened on her bottom as he brought her into firm contact with the hard ridge of his erection.

      Liquid with longing, Polly moved against him but the moment she did so he released his grip on her and lifted his mouth, depriving her of the satisfaction her body craved. And that sudden deprivation was so sharply felt that she gave a faint moan of protest and swayed towards him. With a soft curse he locked his hands around the tops of her arms, holding her steady, as if he sensed she would not stay standing without his support. But he kept the distance and didn’t kiss her again. Slowly, the implications of that penetrated her foggy brain and she opened her eyes to find him watching her with those eyes as black as jet and unfathomable as a deep mountain pool.

      Her body was screaming for more, refusing to adjust to the sudden withdrawal of pleasure. The craving was so intense she almost reached out and grabbed him just so that she could press her mouth to his again. She wanted to know why he’d stopped doing something that felt so perfect.

      His breathing fractionally less than steady, he released his supporting grip on her arms and stepped away from her. ‘You want to know how you walk away from chemistry? This is how it’s done. It’s called self-discipline. You just say no.’ The chill in his tone was as lethal to her tender, exposed feelings as a late frost to an early spring bud.

      Confronted by cool arrogance and an insulting degree of indifference, Polly wanted to say something flippant. Something dismissive that would indicate that the earth hadn’t moved for her. But it had. It hadn’t just moved, it had shifted—reformed her entire emotional landscape into something terrifyingly unfamiliar. And that shift strangled any words she might have spoken.

      She wanted to slap his handsome face, but to show that level of emotion would be to betray what that kiss had done to her so she stood still and silent, holding everything inside. Fortunately she’d had decades of practice.

      Insultingly cool, Damon glanced at his watch. ‘We’re meeting Gérard for dinner at the Eiffel Tower at seven.’ The ease with which he moved from nirvana to normal was another blow to her savaged pride. ‘Dress is elegant.’ Having delivered that lowering statement, he turned and walked back into the apartment—back into his world of pampered luxury and elegance where real life was filtered and sifted until it appeared in its most refined form.

      Polly stood for a moment feeling displaced. Really, what had just happened? She was the same and yet she wasn’t the same. Opening her mouth a fraction, she traced her lower lip with her tongue.

      Her first thought was that clearly the kiss hadn’t affected him as it had affected her, and yet she knew that wasn’t true. She’d felt the strength of his reaction.

      However easily he’d walked away, it had definitely been mutual.

      He’d kissed her to prove—what? That he could walk away every time? That lust was a decision like every other? She wondered whether the intensity of the chemistry had been as much of a shock to him as it was to her.

      Anger flashed through her. How dared he kiss like that and then just walk away?

      No doubt he was feeling smug and superior, having successfully demonstrated the practical application of ruthless self control, whereas she—Polly breathed in and out slowly—she’d demonstrated nothing except an embarrassing degree of feminine compliance. Compelled by his breathtaking sexual expertise, she’d been ready to go the whole way. Like Icarus, she would have flown straight at that hot burning sun, the ecstasy of the flight obliterating any sense of caution.

      In proving his point, he’d made a monumental fool of her.

      Furious and humiliated, she turned her head and looked back towards the luxurious suite, but there was no sign of him. Presumably, having achieved his goal with such spectacular success, he’d taken himself off somewhere to focus his sought-after attentions on some aspect of his global empire before the meeting this evening. A meeting during which he was clearly expecting her to embarrass him.

       Dress is elegant.

      He thought she was going to mess up.

      Polly’s mouth tightened.

      She knew how good she was at her job. If only she were half as good in her dealings with men he wouldn’t have played that trick on her. So far he’d made nothing but false assumptions and she’d been so focused on handling the immediate crisis that she’d done nothing to challenge him on his opinions.

      But tonight that was going to change.

      If Damon Doukakis thought he could control everything around him then he was in for a shock.

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