Page 48 of Captured

“I suspect you probably haven’t gotten your hands dirty with too many soldiers, good or otherwise.”

The fact that he was right didn’t make the comment any less annoying. “You have no idea what kind of men I’ve been with.”

“I think I have some idea.” He moved toward her then, easy and relaxed, and she took a sharp step back, forgetting how near she’d already been to the wall. The cool, rough plaster pressed against her as Dimitri rested a hand on the wall above her, leaning in to stare down at her, his expression smug. “I suspect you’re the kind of women who likes her men pretty but weak. Easily controlled. Fit enough to look good jogging beside you or playing tennis, but not someone you actually expect to get any real work done. And certainly no one that would qualify ascreative.”

“And you are?”

“We’re not talking about me.” A hot surge of embarrassment flared through Lauren at Dimitri’s chiding tone, but when she would have moved away, he put his other hand against the wall, effectively caging her. “We’ll get to me in a second. First I want you to describe the last man you allowed to make love to you.”

Lauren’s eyes widened at the rude question, but she couldn’t stop her brain from jumping to the man in question—not even a man, just some guy she knew from college, someone who was tall, lean, good-looking in a Ralph Lauren model kind of way. His hair had always been neatly trimmed, she found herself thinking now. His face always smooth. His manners always careful, precise. Even in bed.

“On second thought, never mind,” Dimitri said. “You’ve told me everything you need simply with that disappointed look on your face.”

She scowled up at him, taking in his hot, hooded eyes, his skin bristling with a two-day beard, his lips curved into a mocking smirk.

She pushed against his chest, not expecting to move him. She didn’t. “Well, at least he had manners,” she snapped, pushing him harder. Instead of shifting back, Dimitri leaned closer, tilting his hips until they connected with hers, the pressure of his hard shaft shocking though she expected it. It was rough, almost crude, and she wanted to spit out a rebuke. But it was also exactly what she wanted, what she needed. And there was no way she could think of words as her knees wobbled beneath her, her belly swimming with a damp heat that she could no more articulate than ignore.

“Manners,” Dimitri murmured, and he dipped his head down to her ear, as if to whisper a confidence to her.

Instead, she felt the cool slide of his tongue as it traced the rim of her ear, his teeth then closing lightly around the lobe. Unable to stop herself, she clenched her hand in his shirt, halfgrabbing it, half bracing herself against Dimitri’s body, unsure of anything but the heady sensation as he kissed his way down her neck and into the curve of her shoulder. His right hand came away from the wall and cupped her breast, hard, as his gaze reconnected with hers. “I’ve never been a big fan of manners in bed. Perhaps you’ll have to explain to me how that works.”

“You’d never pick it up,” she managed, and then his other hand was massaging her breast as well, practically steaming through her clothes.

“You’ve got my attention now,” he murmured. “Believe me, I’m all ears.”

His words were calm and measured, but she could feel the heat beginning to roll off him as his body reacted to hers. His hands moved again to her bare arms, and the touch of him electrified her. She tilted her head up, searching his gaze.

“Do we really need to leave yet?” She broke off at the embarrassment of what she was asking. But suddenly, the world outside this villa seemed a big and lonely place, whereas standing in the circle of Dimitri’s arms felt totally safe, impossibly right.

Dimitri leaned closer to her. “Something you want, princess?” he said gruffly, his lips skimming her cheek before barely brushing against her mouth. “Because I’m more than happy to give it to you. But this time, we have to do it my way.”

Thirty-Two

Dimitri grinned hard as Lauren’s startled gaze met his. She acted like she was this remote, untouchable woman, unwilling and unable to be moved by any man. But he knew differently, had known it since the first time he’d seen her. She wasn’t made for the neat little men in their tidy suits and expensive cologne that he suspected adorned all of her boyfriends in the past. She wasn’t made for someone willing to toady to her and give into her every imperious request.

She was made to be met halfway—more than halfway. And then taken completely over the cliff.

And he was just the demigod to do it.

Beneath him, Lauren trembled, but only a little bit. He was kissing her face, her mouth, barely willing to let her breathe, to let her talk, but he heard the “yes” she managed as she tangled up her hands in his shirt. Heard the sigh of relief as he pulled her roughly into his body, scooping her up in his arms and carrying her inside. She wanted him to take control. He was more than happy to oblige.

Dimitri didn’t stop this time at the living room. His long strides ate up the distance to the stairs, and when Lauren made to regain her own feet at the steps, he growled, bending down tofind her mouth again with his. His kiss was fierce and brooked no argument. She didn’t give any. He bounded up the rest of the stairs to the room—hisroom. The room she’d slept in two nights before, the bed now hotel-neat, the place spotless, as if no one had been in there. But she had. And now she would be again.

Dimitri hit the bed in three more steps, dropping her on it and immediately covering her body with his. Lauren wrapped her arms around him and pulled him to her fiercely, her legs going around his hips and her hand at the back of his neck, as if she could crawl inside his body. Sounded good to him. He kissed her roughly, tasting, demanding, and the harsh, desperate breath of her response drove him to higher and higher need.

He pulled away from her, then reached over his shoulder to pull off his shirt. Her eyes widened as she stared at him, then out the window. Dimitri knew what she’d noticed, but it couldn’t be helped.

“What’s happening outside?” she asked, lifting up on one elbow as the room darkened with the sudden onrush of heavy clouds. “Was there supposed to be a storm today?”

“It happens. You have other clothes?”

“Clothes? What—yes.” She frowned as his hand moved to the neckline of her loose tank. “These are—they weren’t expensive, they’re just?—”

“Good.” He dipped his hand into the neckline and yanked, the thin material giving way, exposing the lace of her bra. It buckled in front, and he snapped the clasp easily. With a guttural growl, he leaned forward to take her bared breast in his mouth, reveling in the way Lauren shifted and writhed beneath him, her hands now in his hair, her body arched. She was made for sex, but now he decided it was more than that. She was made for sex with him.

The crack of thunder boomed across the sky, loud enough to shake the house.

“Seriously?” Lauren gasped, but he didn’t hesitate as rain started pelting the villa. Instead, he lifted again long enough to shred the rest of her shirt open, the soft curve of her belly begging for his mouth, his hands, and he gave into the compulsion. Curling his hands beneath her ass, he scorched a trail of kisses down her stomach and over the thin linen of her pants, quieting her squirming as he felt the heat swell up from her and envelope him. The rush was intense, and when she struggled to reach her waistband with her own hands, he batted her hands away, instead ripping open the cheap placket and revealing the soft cotton panties beneath.

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