at that powerful body in a pair of clinging swim-shorts, despite her intention to avert her gaze whenever he levered himself out of the water?
Water highlighted his masculinity. It gleamed and highlighted the golden skin and emphasised the honed contours of his powerful physique. It made her body sizzle with desire and she couldn’t work out a way to stop it. And the most infuriating thing was that she could have had him. She could have had him on her first night here, and yet she had turned him down.
By the third day, Leo was not only becoming confident in the water—he was behaving as if he’d spent his whole life living in a luxurious dacha. He listened to Dimitri’s firm house rules and obeyed them. He knew that the swimming pool was out of bounds unless there was an adult present and in the meantime he made friends with Svetlana’s grandson, Anatoly—who was a year older. Erin watched from the sidelines, aware that there was a lot of Dimitri in her son which she’d never seen before. Or never allowed herself to see. With the large grounds at his disposal, a playmate and a football, he was able to enjoy the kind of healthy freedom which wasn’t readily available in London.
She told herself she was grateful to Dimitri for his hospitality, but his polite and non-committal behaviour towards her was starting to drive her insane. Yet this was what she had actually asked for, so she was hardly in a position to complain about it. Was it simply a case of wanting what she couldn’t have? Like when you tried to cut down on sugar and it left you craving something sweet.
Dimitri wasn’t sweet. He was the antithesis of sweet. He was hard and strong and ruthless. But here he was showing a side of himself she’d never seen before. She’d never imagined he could be so gentle, or that his cold face could warm into such a breathtaking smile when he interacted with his little boy.
Suddenly, she felt like someone who had been left out in the cold. As if she were the outsider.
After dinner on the third night she’d gone to her room and shut the door behind her with a heavy sigh. She should have felt, if not exactly happy, then at least content. It had been another successful day. Dimitri had taken them deep into the forest in the crisp cold, and they’d all been worn out with fresh air and exercise. Leo was fast asleep next door and, although supper had been civilised and delicious, Dimitri had been called to the telephone soon afterwards and had excused himself. He had shut himself in his study and showed no sign of coming out and so Erin had come upstairs to bed.
She began to unbutton her cardigan, wondering how he would react if she went and found him and told him she’d changed her mind. That she no longer cared about being treated like a plaything if only he would kiss her again. She hung the cardigan over the back of the chair and pulled a face at her washed-out reflection in the mirror. But that would be the action of an idiot, wouldn’t it? Long-term pain for short-term gain.
She’d just put on her nightdress when there was a knock at the door and, thinking it might be Leo, she sped over to answer it, her bare feet making no sound on the silky antique rug. But it wasn’t Leo; it was Dimitri who stood there and she despaired at the predictability of her reaction as the breath dried hotly in her throat.
‘Is it Leo?’ she questioned.
‘No, Erin—it isn’t Leo.’ He glanced over her shoulder. ‘You weren’t in bed?’
‘Not yet.’ She was grateful for the darkness, which hid her sudden blush. And for the nightdress, which concealed her rapidly hardening nipples. ‘I was just about to turn in.’
‘May I come in?’
She didn’t ask him why and that was her first mistake. Her second was not to move away when he shut the door behind him. To get as far away from the intoxicating closeness of his body as the dimensions of the room would allow.
She tried to match the studied politeness he’d been showing her all day, but suddenly she noticed a new restlessness in his eyes. A certain tension in his powerful body. ‘What is it that you want, Dimitri?’
She was trying to sound matter-of-fact but she failed miserably and something about the thready quality of her voice made his eyes narrow.
‘I’ve come to say some things which I should have said a long time ago.’
She looked at him. ‘What kind of things?’
Dimitri met the question in her green eyes and hesitated, because what he was about to do did not come easily to him. He had grown up in a world where explanations were never given, where feelings were buried so deeply that you could almost fool yourself into thinking they didn’t exist. And he had carried on that same sterile tradition into his own adult life. Never explain had been his motto. People could take him as they found him and if they didn’t like him, then tough. There were plenty more eager to fall into line, because power made people eager to please you.
But not Erin. Erin was different. She did what she thought was right—no matter at what cost to herself. And she was the mother of his child. She deserved his respect—he realised that now. And maybe she also needed to know some of the things he was fast discovering about himself.
‘I understand now why you kept Leo from me for so long,’ he said.
Her eyes were wary. ‘You do?’
He nodded. ‘Why would you want an innocent child being corrupted by someone who saw life through the bottom of a glass, as I did? Whose idea of fun was being the last person left in the casino after he’d emptied his wallet? Who revelled in the sense of danger, as much as the thrill of risk? I don’t blame you for cutting me out of his life, because that’s what any good mother would do and you are a fantastic mother,’ he said slowly. ‘And our son is beautiful. He’s just beautiful, Erin.’
Erin didn’t know what she’d been expecting, but this hadn’t even featured on her list of possibilities. And the crazy thing was that the things he’d said made her want to cry. She found herself wishing he’d come and found her a long time ago to tell her he had cleaned up his act and then he could have met Leo a whole lot sooner. She thought of all those wasted years which they could never get back and suddenly she didn’t want to risk a moment’s more regret.
She blinked away the incipient tears which were pricking at the backs of her eyes. ‘Kiss me,’ she whispered.
‘Erin—’
‘Shut up,’ she interrupted and in the midst of her hunger and heartache she realised that she was one of the few people he would allow to interrupt him like that. ‘Just shut up and kiss me, Dimitri. Please.’
He moved forward and cupped her face in his hands and suddenly he was driving his mouth down onto hers, his tongue coaxing her lips apart as he began to explore her with an urgency which made her feel weak. She wondered if it was her self-imposed embargo on sex which made this kiss seem so...profound, or because it was underpinned by a distinct air of reconciliation?
She didn’t know and, right now, she didn’t care. The only thing she cared about was the way he was touching her—running the flat of his hand down over her flower-sprigged nightdress.
‘Is this what the English call a passion-killer?’ he questioned drily as he peeled off her long nightdress.
‘Why?’ She shivered as the cool air hit her heated skin. ‘Is it working?’
‘Are you kidding? It’s the sexiest piece of clothing I’ve ever seen,’ he growled as he picked her up and carried her over to the bed.
She helped him undress—her inexperience forgotten in the midst of her excitement at revealing the powerful body. She traced her fingers experimentally over his hair-roughened thighs, feeling stupidly pleased by his exultant shiver and the little groan of satisfaction he made. And wasn’t that the thing about Dimitri—that somehow, despite everything, she always felt like his equal in bed?
The sheets felt cool against her naked body but Dimitri was all welcoming warmth as the mattress dipped beneath them. Tilting her chin, he looked at her for one long, wordless moment before slowly lowering his