Innocent in the Ivory Tower (8 page)

When he parted her and she felt his fingers slide into her she keened, and when his tongue ran over her clitoris her hips began to undulate on the bed. She didn’t care how loud she was being. It didn’t take long until her inner walls were tugging on his fingers as he slid them out of her, and his tongue dragged over the sweet centre of her one last time before he stood up, unhooking his jeans with suddenly clumsy fingers.

Maisy lay there watching him, her cheeks red, her eyes bright, her body unbelievably lush in his eyes. From her softly rounded arms to her breasts, the curve of her little waist to stunningly flared hips, the solidity of her female thighs and the taper of her calves down to her pretty feet. She was a pink-and-white study in eroticism, with the golden fire of her tumbled curls and the red-gold at the apex of her thighs a touch of genius.

An artist would give a great deal to paint her like this; a
man would give his soul just to look upon her. That he was getting it all sent Alexei into overdrive. He didn’t want to be out of control with her, but he could already feel himself slipping and sliding towards mindless pleasure. The things he could do to her—the places he could take her if she would let him. And he knew she would let him. And every primitive male instinct in his body charged to the fore.

She sat up slowly, as if knowing not to rush her movements, and replaced his clumsy hands with her own, gently popping every last button.

He had a look of incredible concentration on his face, and as his jeans hit the floor Maisy’s mouth made a perfect circle of wonder.
This
was not what she was used to. She ran a fingertip along the heavy veined shaft, wondering how on earth they were going to fit. He put his hand over hers and drew her fingers over him, around him, up and down, giving her voiceless instruction on how much pressure he needed, the speed.

Just watching him made her tremble. The force of him, the weight of his desire was almost too much. Maisy knew she had just hit the deep end and could no longer feel the bottom. He unwrapped her hand but kept hold of it, anchoring her back on the bed, coming over her. He kissed her with the full force of his mouth, his hands sliding down under her lush behind to lift her and position her.

‘I want you under me the first time,’ he muttered into her mouth, as if she needed telling.

Maisy felt him brush at her entrance, his blunt tip penetrating her. She reached up to stroke his face, wanting him to be looking at her, seeking a connection with him. He went a little further and then swore under his breath, pulled out of her, drew back, stood up.

‘Don’t move,’ he instructed.

Alexei was tearing open a foil packet, and she watched as he dealt with the necessities, sheathing himself at speed, so that she was reminded he had done this far too many times.
Whilst I’ve only done it once
, she thought, her heart pounding.

He hadn’t taken his eyes off her, and as he positioned himself over her again he paused to lean in and kiss her again—a kiss that told her he knew who she was.

He sank slowly into her, moving with stealth, as if relishing the surprisingly tight clasp of her. Maisy began to lift her hips to coax him, bring him into her. Bring him home. Her eyes flared wide as he fully seated himself. His shoulders were braced above her, the muscles heavy across his shoulders and chest. He looked down at her with the intent expression of a man who knew absolutely what he was doing. He framed her face with one hand.

‘Okay, Maisy?’ His voice was strained, his whole body tensed above her.

It was the second time he had asked her that, and she liked it. She liked it so much she thought her chest might explode with feeling. It showed he cared about her. In answer she wrapped her good arm around his strong neck and brought his mouth down to hers.

Her body had taken over now, and that tiny doubt planted in that grimy room in Earls Court was exploded in the time it took Alexei to fully penetrate her.
This
was her man, the right man. He knew exactly what to do, and her body responded in kind. He drove her higher and higher, until she was hanging over the edge of a cliff with her fingertips. When she fell he came with her, and she clung tight to him as he thrust again and again, her brain on hiatus as she gave herself over to the sheer joy of being a part of him.

When he sank forward, his head pressed to the curve of her neck, she held him as tightly as he would let her for as long as he would let her, and when he pulled out of her and rolled onto his back he rewarded her by taking her with him.

‘I don’t usually do this.’

Alexei couldn’t think. But that wasn’t surprising, given he was still coming down the other side of an incredible orgasm. He knew his brain would flick the functioning switch in a
minute, but right now all he could do was say her name—
Maisy
—and run his hand happily down the full round flank of her bottom and thigh. Her head lay on his chest—all those long ringlets cascading over them—her smooth thigh rested on his hair-roughened front quad muscle, and he could feel the hot wet centre of her pressed against him. There were so many things he wanted to do with her, and just anticipating the weeks to come made his blood hum.

But she was saying something. She was sitting up, and managed to pull the sheet around her as he watched her. ‘What don’t you usually do?’ He didn’t want to move, but he wished she would drape herself back across him.

‘This. Have casual sex.’

The words sounded a bit harsh. He was thinking
incredible
sex. Surely he’d covered all the bases? She’d definitely come apart in his arms. She should be purring like a kitten, but instead she was sitting there, huddling in a sheet, talking about casual sex.

Then the other shoe dropped. Of course. She wanted to hear that he respected her, that they would be repeating this regularly—for a while—and then she’d drop the sheet and crawl back into his space.

He could do all that. He would, once his brain clicked into gear. But some other part of him said, with a sincerity he didn’t recognise, ‘Nothing about this is casual, Maisy.’

She had the softest eyes in the world, he thought, arrested for a moment by the expression on Maisy’s face. And somehow he had said exactly the right thing, because some of the tension had run out of her and she looked both shy and hopeful.

How in the hell was she shy after what they’d just done? What they were going to do? With her face flushed, her round hazel eyes dilated, she looked like a woman who had enjoyed very satisfactory sex. She also looked a little embarrassed.

It was sweet. He reached for her and she came to him, soft and warm and accommodating. Exactly what he wanted from
her. He laid his hand between her legs, easing them apart as his fingers found her sensitive part and slid in and out of the hot wet core of her. His eyes never left the expression on her face as he built her orgasm out of the remains of what had gone before.

‘I HAD wild uninhibited sex in broad daylight. I had
lots
of wild, uninhibited sex in broad daylight,’ Maisy confided to the pillow, as if this were a secret, and Alexei laughed. The sound was so reassuring Maisy subsided into the vibrations of his chest, wanting to stay curled against him for as long as possible. His large, tight-muscled frame took up more than half the bed, but she didn’t mind.

Alexei ran a possessive hand over her hip, now covered by a single sheet. He had so thoroughly explored her body in the last two hours he couldn’t imagine a freckle or dimple he wasn’t familiar with, but she insisted on covering herself, revealing a modesty that oddly touched him.

He pulled her tighter into the shelter of his body.

He never did cuddling.

He performed, he took his pleasure, and then he showered and dressed and left.

Maisy curled against him, as if heat-seeking, her closing lashes soft on her round cheeks. He’d exhausted her, and the thought satisfied an entirely primitive, unreconstructed part of himself.

The more sophisticated part of him was planning ahead. How to fit her into his schedule; how to set the parameters of their relationship …

She has no idea who I am or what I require of her
, he thought, and it was an oddly charged feeling—one he didn’t want to relinquish yet. He couldn’t quite put his finger on it,
but for a time he had felt a barrier come down. He’d felt free to just luxuriate in this closeness. Soon enough they would have to get out of bed and harsh reality would intrude. He didn’t want clingy, didn’t want emotions, didn’t want a
relationship
. He wanted sex. In return he would give her anything she desired.

Foremost, he didn’t want her to nurture any illusions about him.

Then why did it feel as if he was shutting her out and in the process shutting down a part of himself?

He bedded glamorous women for a reason. It had nothing to do with their allure. Hell, he doubted they were even his
type
. But they came with a pack drill. They knew what they were about, they knew what they wanted, and they knew what he was offering. There were limits to these liaisons. Tara had been a perfect example.

But just the thought of her this morning ran a chill through him, and he tightened his arms around Maisy. Tara was a reminder of why Maisy had snuck in under his radar. This uncomplicated sweetness was what he wanted—probably needed. Maisy had come to him with nothing but her wonderful, warm, accommodating body.

Peace was what he was feeling, and in answer to it he rolled her onto her back and settled himself across her, cradling his head on her belly.

It would be good for them both. She clearly hadn’t had much of a life, from what she’d told him with her mum and the gig with Anais’s baby. He could offer her luxury, travel and a speed dial for her sexual repertoire. He in turn would get this much joy and sweetness in his bed.

And he would not let himself be weak and mistake it for anything else.

He shoved that thought aside and luxuriated in the feeling of her. After everything that had gone before it was like being reborn. He needed six months of Maisy. In fact if he was a doctor he’d recommend it.

She smelled so good—warm female skin, the faint traces of the tangerine soap she used, and sex. She hadn’t rushed off to wash herself and it was nice, just lying here with her, feeling the rise and fall of her breathing under his head, knowing she wasn’t going anywhere.

She sat up, dislodging his head. ‘Kostya,’ she said.

Realising a response was required from him, Alexei gazed up at her, a smile of disbelief on his slumberous face. ‘Relax, Maria will get him up.’

‘I always get him up,’ Maisy protested, swinging her legs off the bed, trying to drag the sheet with her.

Alexei had no intention of moving. ‘Come back to bed,
dushka
. Maria can look after him today.’

Even as he said it Alexei registered Maisy’s disapproval.

She made a dash for his shirt and thrust her arms frantically into the sleeves, covering herself as quickly as she could. She didn’t say anything, and the longer that went on the more annoyed Alexei was feeling. The baby was
fine
.
He
needed a bit of attention. Where in the hell was she going?

‘Maisy!’ He didn’t like the bark in his voice, and Maisy clearly didn’t either. She swung around, hair flying, frowning at him as if he had offended her. ‘Please come back to bed,’ he said with studied patience.

Maisy shook her head. ‘I can’t,’ she said.

‘Fine.’ He bounded off the bed and headed for the bathroom. He was going to shower and start the day. Maisy needed to know who was in charge.

‘Where are you going?’ she said.

‘The entertainment is over. I need a shower and a shave,’ he shot back at her.

Maisy paled. Her anxiety to get downstairs to the nursery dulled as the impact of that word pinned her to the spot.

Entertainment.

She stood staring at the open bathroom door. She felt as if he’d slapped her. He couldn’t mean it. She wanted to run
after him and tackle him, demand he take it back, but there wasn’t time.

Kostya.

She kept moving, her heart pounding as she skittered along the hallway, praying no one appeared around the corner to find her naked except for a man’s shirt. Alexei’s shirt. Everyone would know what they had been doing, if they didn’t already. It wouldn’t matter so much if it was the beginning of some sort of a relationship; it mattered a great deal to her if he thought of her as providing ‘entertainment’.

Her heartbeat began to slam inside her chest, heavy and dull, as reality laid a cold hand on her shoulder. All the drama of last night came rushing back. He’d said some pretty hurtful things and he hadn’t taken one of them back. As if sex cancelled it all out. Although for him it probably did. He seemed very pleased with himself. And why wouldn’t he be? One meal and she was on her back. What sort of girl jumped into bed with a man so quickly?

Emotions were roiling through her and she could barely keep a lid on them. Oh, God. It was all too clear. She had made a huge leap of faith, and he had had a one-night stand.

She had to walk through the nursery to get to her room.
The realisation brought her to a halt. She couldn’t walk in like this—not if Kostya wasn’t alone.

Trying not to think about the humiliation to come, she retraced her steps. She could hear the sound of running water. She took a deep breath and walked into the luxurious bathroom. Alexei was standing under a waterfall of water, head down, shoulders hunched. His beautiful long lean body took her breath away, still. Knowing he was an absolute bastard didn’t change that.

He looked up as he sensed her presence, his lips parting. He cut off the water. ‘Changed your mind,
dushka
?’

There was something about that endearment, that
casual
endearment, that twisted the knife. Maisy blocked the truckload
of pain she could feel coming and said, ‘I need my dress. Where did you put my dress?’

‘A little cold in the shirt, Maisy?’ He grabbed a towel and began drying his hair, completely unselfconscious about his nudity.

Maisy focussed her eyes on a spot across the room and repeated, ‘I need my dress.’

‘I heard you.’ He casually wrapped the towel around his lean hips and knotted it. ‘It’s safe to look,
dushka
. Although I’ve got no idea what’s spooked you, Maisy. It’s not as if you haven’t been introduced.’

She wanted to hit him.

That did it.

Maisy stepped up to him and for a moment she fancied he actually looked expectant—as if she was going to launch herself into his arms after everything he had said and done.

Bastard.
She slapped him as hard as she could across his face. His head jarred slightly to the right and then slowly came around again to stare down at her. Maisy took a backward step.

He brought a hand slowly up to his jaw and rubbed. ‘Feel better?’

‘No.’

‘I’ll get your dress.’

It was all over. She could still feel where he had been inside her and yet it was over, Maisy registered. She couldn’t believe she had hit him. He was cold, arrogant, self-centered, and she was … on the premises and … happy to oblige.

That was how it was, wasn’t it?

Yet as the seconds turned into minutes she began to lose her ground. Maria would be with Kostya, as she was every morning. The realisation had stolen up on her even before she’d walked in here, and now it bloomed with full force. She had overreacted. She had been lying in that bed, suddenly feeling alone and self-conscious, terrified of what was to come, what this sudden new intimacy meant, and she had run away rather than face it. Somehow she had convinced herself that if the sex
stopped he wouldn’t want her in the bed, and she’d felt too raw to face that so she had jumped out. He might be angry with her now, but that didn’t mean everything was over before it began.

Alexei had reacted appallingly, but at least he was fetching her dress. Dan hadn’t even given her the taxi fare home.

A soft gust of bittersweet amusement at her overreaction made her drop her head. She was hopeless at all this men stuff, but she would get better.

His arms came around her from behind and she was drawn up into a bear hug that turned her insides to mush. ‘I’m sorry,’ he muttered against her ear.

Maisy turned and burrowed deep into him and hung on. Relief made her limp.

Alexei rested his chin on the top of her warm head and released a deep sigh. ‘Go and see Kostya.’

It was, she recognised, a magnanimous gesture. He wasn’t used to making room for other people in his life, yet here he was making space for Kostya, putting his needs first. Maybe accommodating
her
a little.

I’m being considerate
, thought Alexei, enjoying the results of a clinging Maisy.
I’m attuned to her feelings
. Wasn’t that the current jargon? But something in him regretted having hurt her.

Maisy reacted predictably for once, turning up her face to be kissed and reassured. He knew the drill. But there was no kiss. That little crease was back between her brows.

‘What am I going to tell Maria if she asks where I’ve been?’

Maria? Who cared about the housekeeper? ‘My sex life is not Maria’s business.’

The little crease deepened. ‘Not you—me.’

‘Maisy, I chased you down to Ravello yesterday. I had dinner with you on the rooftop. Everybody knows.’

She blushed.

She blushed—after two hours of lying naked under him and over him.

But there were certain things she didn’t do, he registered,
and when he led her in some directions she did not come with him. It hadn’t mattered—he’d been so caught up in the sheer impact of being with her.

It was unlikely, but he had to ask.

‘Maisy, were you a virgin?’

‘I can’t believe you asked me that.’ She tried to wriggle out of his arms, but suddenly Alexei could think of no better way to spend the next five minutes than drilling Maisy for some personal information.

Women usually spilled their guts on the first encounter—gave him well-edited potted histories of their empty lives until he and his billions walked into their world. One Hollywood actress had tried to persuade him she had never enjoyed sex until him. He might have been flattered had he not seen her by the pool of his home in Florida intimately entwined with another woman.

He watched Maisy squirm, her round cheeks hot and pink, her red-gold curls a tangled out-of-control mass. She was using it to hide her face from him. He knew he could never let her know about
his
former life. She would be horrified. Little hot-to-trot Maisy had a great deal of girl-next-door in her.

He’d known it yesterday afternoon, when he’d climbed back into the Ferrari and seen her mortification. She wasn’t a gold-digger. She was just a little out of her depth. When he’d lowered the levels she had risen to meet him. He’d been rewarded with the most incredible sex he had ever had.

Be nice to me.
Even the sound of her voice stoked him. She loaded the simplest words with carnal meaning. Yet here she was blushing, embarrassed.

He’d read her wrong. Again. Not only was she a good girl, she was a romantic.

‘How many men, Maisy?’

He knew he should have framed that question more sensitively, but he didn’t
do
sensitive.

‘How many women, Alexei?’ She jerked up her face, embarrassed, but with that edge he was beginning to look forward to.

‘Too many.’ His answer surprised even himself.

She made a wry face, but he saw a flash of hurt in her eyes.

She must never know. It would tear a big hole in that romantic little soul of hers.

Stunned, Alexei wondered where that thought had come from. Pushing it aside, he gave her chin a gentle pinch.

‘How many, Maisy?’ he pressed.

‘Just one. Once.’

She looked almost defiant as she said it, as if daring him to comment. Alexei, rocked by that little announcement, did his best to disguise it. He hadn’t thought for one moment she was a virgin, but now he knew she might as well be.

‘Could you tell?’ she framed awkwardly as his silence stretched on.

He pushed the hair out of her eyes. ‘I think I’m very lucky,’ he said genuinely.

It was clearly the right thing to say.

Maisy sprang up and squeezed him around the neck. She was happy. He had made Maisy happy for the first time since they’d climbed out of bed and everything had gone pear-shaped. There was a lesson there. Keep her horizontal as often as possible.

But there was Kostya to consider.

‘Kostya,’ she said, right on schedule.

‘I’ll go.’ He didn’t know why he volunteered, but he was beginning to understand any chance of uninterrupted play with Maisy could only be engineered if he loosened her grip on Kostya.

Besides, it was time to build a relationship with the boy.

Maisy was fastening herself back into her white gown when there was a knock on the door. She froze. ‘Miss Edmonds?’