14

He refused to feel sorry about it. He’d warned her, told her who and what he was. She’d asked if he wanted to come up, he’d said yes, and he was not going to change his mind.

They stood in silence, looking at each other as the aging, creaking elevator took them to the top floor. Neither of them spoke. He watched Natalia’s breasts moving beneath the thick sweater. Her face was serious. The elevator stopped, and David held the door open for her. She took a key out of her purse and unlocked the front door. She stepped to the side and opened her mouth to say something, but David took her face in his hands and kissed her. He had been struggling with himself the whole way. He hadn’t been lying when he said he hadn’t planned this. It was a weekday. He knew she worked hard and took her work seriously. He had to get up early in the morning himself. He hadn’t been lying.

Or had he?

This was an unbelievably bad idea. He was supposed to be breaking his ties with her, not getting to know her better. But the battle within him had already been lost. Maybe he hadn’t put up much of a fight. Maybe he’d never wanted anything other than to follow the poised, graceful Natalia De la Grip home and make love to her.

One night, only one night. Surely that wouldn’t matter?

He kissed her again, hard, so that she panted against his mouth. He slid a hand behind her head, and closed the door with his other hand. And they stood like that in her dark entryway, him with his hand still in her hair, her with her back and palms pressed against the wall as if she were unsure what she wanted.

She was like a pale shadow in the dark entryway. “Let down your hair,” he said hoarsely. Natalia pulled on the pins that were still holding up the loose, windswept knot. One by one she took the hairpins out, and he heard the delicate clink each one made as it fell onto the stone floor. Her hair cascaded down her back as she shook it free. David ran his eyes over her, and then without taking his gaze off her, he ordered: “Take off the pearls.”

She obeyed in silence, slowly undoing the necklace, pulling off her earrings, and setting them on top of the hall cabinet. Her neck was slender and white.

“Good,” he said.

He put a hand on her hip. Her body trembled and she exhaled heavily. Just the sound of her excited breathing would be enough to make him come. But he wanted to come inside her, dominate that strong body, make her cry out much louder than any of these stifled gasps. He pulled her to him.

“It’s been a long time for me, David. I don’t know . . .” she said, leaning against his chest. He brought her hips tighter against his. She pushed herself against him. He was so ready.

“Arms up,” he said and she obeyed again. He pulled the oversized sweater off her, tossed it onto the floor. With his palms low on her back, he drew her to him again, pushing himself into her, letting her feel how hard he was.

“I’ve been thinking about this all evening,” he said, knowing that was the truth. “You were so sexy on the boat.” He moved a hand to the opening of her blouse and spread out his fingers over her breast. The ribs under her thin skin were so slender, so delicate. He tugged on the silk fabric and one button came off. It was covered with fabric and disappeared without a sound. He caressed the side of her neck, curling his fingers lightly around the side of it, let a thumb slide along her jawline. He felt her pulse racing. Her eyes widened, watching him seriously.

He shook his head. “Don’t think.” With one hand he carefully took hold of her chin, and she gasped as his mouth covered her own. He kissed her. She whimpered and put her hand on his chest, as if to stop him.

He stopped. “What?” he said. Had he misjudged her?

“This is moving so fast. I don’t know you, not really.” She breathed in short bursts, searching his face. “Who are you?”

“I’m no one, Natalia,” he said, slowly bringing his hand to her hair. “Just a man who really wants to make love with you tonight.” He hadn’t meant to frighten her. “Don’t be scared,” he murmured quietly, stroking her hair.

Her breathing was audible in the silent apartment. She moved uneasily in his embrace. It was dark in the entryway, and her golden eyes were almost black. He put his hand over hers, the one that was still resting like a gentle restraint against his chest.

“I want you, Natalia,” he said. “What do you want?”

Natalia’s lip curled slightly and he felt her relax a little.

“I don’t usually do this,” she said and then grimaced. “Maybe I shouldn’t have said that.” She smiled. “Even if it’s the truth.”

“That doesn’t matter,” David responded with a wink. “Because I do it all the time.”

She laughed and then smiled, genuinely and almost boldly. She said, “I invited you up. I want this. And I have, um, protection.”

She put both her hands on his chest and slid in against him. David looked at the top of her head, her dark hair as she leaned against his chest, smelled the exotic scent of spices and some kind of wood.

He didn’t need to feel guilty, he told himself. Natalia wanted this. They were adults; this was just sex, nothing more. She had said it herself: they didn’t know each other. They could share one night without it affecting them on any deeper level. They would both enjoy it. It was completely uncomplicated. In her apartment they were just a man and a woman, nothing more. And he really wanted to make it good for her.

He slowly bent down—giving her a chance to pull away if she wanted. But Natalia tipped her face up and eagerly answered his kiss this time, pressing against him and throwing her arms around his neck. If she’d been afraid before, that had subsided now, he thought, meeting her hungry mouth, her bold kisses. She was a passionate woman, animated in his embrace.

He ran his fingers through her dark hair. It was as soft as mink fur and long, much longer than he’d thought. He gathered up a fistful and gently pulled her head back. She moaned, a muffled sound well back in her throat, and his body responded reflexively and intensely. With his hand still buried in her hair, he scanned the enormous entry hall. He preferred to think of himself as somewhat more sophisticated than a man who had sex with a woman just inside her front door. “Show me the rest of the place,” he said.

Natalia looked at him, her eyes smoldering, her lips slightly swollen. Then she took his hand in her own cool one. She led him down the hall, and he smiled at how easily she took charge. She was used to deciding, to being in control. It was going to be an interesting night.

They passed doors, paintings, and mirrors. And more doors.

“How big is this place?” he asked, stifling a laugh.

She turned a corner and then stepped out into an enormous living room. Extremely tall, open French doors led onto a balcony. This room was just as dark as the rest of the apartment, and cool air poured in.

“I can close the doors,” Natalia offered.

“No,” he said. “I want to see the view.”

They stepped out onto the balcony together.

She had a view of both Djurgården, the vast green area belonging to the king, and the Djurgårdsbrunn Canal down by Strandvägen Boulevard. When she shivered, he pulled her toward him. He caressed one breast through her thin blouse. She had small, sensitive breasts, and with a shudder, she closed her eyes. He kissed her again while he started unbuttoning her slacks. When he pulled the zipper down, her breathing sped up. He slid his hand over the gentle dome of her stomach and she pushed herself against him. He ran his finger along the thin edge of her panties. Her panties were so sheer that he could have easily torn them. He caressed her through the lace. She was warm and damp. She was wet. He pulled away the cloth, slid in a finger. She wasn’t waxed, which he liked. “You’re so hot,” he whispered and playfully bit her earlobe.

Natalia moaned at his touch and pushed herself against his hand.

“Where do you keep them?” he asked.

“I’ll get them,” she said. “Wait here.”

He stepped back into the living room. Her two sofas were long and deep, her décor tasteful and antique, surely inherited.

She came back, her slender body glowing inside her half-open silk blouse. She had taken off her slacks, and her legs were powerful and extremely pale. She held out her hand and passed him the thin box with an embarrassed smile. He studied it. It hardly looked like it had been opened. Apparently she really meant it that she didn’t do this very often. He wondered if she’d been with anyone since her fiancé. He tried to remember how long it had been since that relationship ended. A year ago? The information he’d read about her hadn’t mentioned any new love interests.

They cooperated to undo the last of the fabric-covered buttons on her blouse before he swept it off her. She was wearing a lacy bra underneath, a glossy little number that he thought must be one of the expensive ones she collected.

“You undo it,” he said, afraid he would damage the thin fabric if he tried to do it.

Natalia brought her hands behind her back and undid the hooks. She watched him hesitantly, her hands over the fabric and her breasts. But he was impatient now. Her coyness set his blood racing.

“I want to see,” he commanded. “Move your hands.”

Slowly she complied. She had small but perfectly rounded breasts, with small, dark nipples. “You’re unbelievably beautiful,” he said hoarsely. When he placed his hand over one small breast, his palm covered it completely. He moved his hand, caressing her, and she moaned hoarsely. God, how he loved women with sensitive breasts.

She started untucking his T-shirt and they took it off together. He placed his hands on her upper arms while she ran her hands over his torso. Her hands were delicate, and he closed his eyes as she explored his body.

It seemed to happen so fast, he was caught off guard when she leaned forward and ran her hands around behind his back. He didn’t have a chance to stop her, and now he didn’t want to make a big deal about it. But he stiffened under her touch, steeling himself. He never let anyone touch him there.

Natalia’s brow wrinkled. She ran her hand questioningly over the roughness on his back, and he could feel her trying to make sense of what her fingertips were feeling. But he didn’t say anything, didn’t want her to understand. He pulled away. “Not now,” he said, fending off her questions.

She gave him a curious look. “But David, you . . .”

He held onto her shoulders and cautiously pushed her back. “Not now.”

Natalia blinked. “Okay,” she said quietly.

He studied her, standing there. She was a fascinating mix of modesty and sensuality. She was slim, but still curvy with her rounded belly, her narrow waist, and her soft hips.

He undressed himself until he was naked. Her eyes widened, and then she quickly pulled off her panties and stepped into his arms.

Her skin was smooth, like polished ivory, soft as silk. He held her head and kissed her. She pushed against him, and he lifted her one leg and placed it around his hip. Somehow they ended up on the sofa, him half lying on his back, her astride him. He found the condom package, opened it, and quickly slid one on.

They looked into each other’s eyes, and then he lifted her up by the hips, grasped her, and took her in a single motion. Natalia fell forward onto his chest with a shout, inhaling in a gasp. Her dark hair fell around him like a scented silk curtain.

David lifted her head and looked into her foggy eyes. “Is this alright?” he asked with difficulty. He’d almost come. She was hot and wet, but she was small and tight, and the friction and the sight were almost overwhelming.

Natalia nodded. “Just let me get used to it,” she said faintly. “It’s really been a while.”

David took hold of her buttocks, one hand around each cheek, and lifted her carefully upward. She put a hand on his chest, the other on his thigh behind her. Slowly, with his eyes locked on hers, he let her slide down again, seeing in her eyes how he filled her. She was breathing heavily, and he repeated the motion until she too adopted the rhythm.

“Wonderful,” he said, his voice muffled, seeing that she was far away. She slowly closed her eyes and let her head fall back until her dark hair grazed his legs. Up and down, with slippery, wet sounds, moans and whimpers.

David came.

Without style or consideration, he exploded. It happened so fast, and he wasn’t able to stop himself, so instead he took a firm hold of her hips—she would have marks from his fingers, he thought foggily—and held her down until he filled her and held her there and just came in wave after pulsing wave. He closed his eyes and collapsed back onto the sofa.

When he opened his eyes again, the living room was still dark. His eyes had adjusted, though, and he saw her clearly. With her long hair and those big eyes, she looked young and vulnerable. And sexy as hell. She moved her legs, and he realized she was still on top of him, that he was still inside her. It had been totally amazing for him, but he had left her unsatisfied.

He grimaced. “I’m sorry,” he said.

“For what?” she asked.

But David knew that she hadn’t experienced the same climax he had. So much for pleasuring her. He stroked her thigh. “Normally, I’m able to control myself better,” he said, sounding pained. “I don’t know what happened.”

She started squirming. “It doesn’t matter,” she said half-heartedly.

David shook his head.

He lifted her off and gently laid her down on the soft sofa. He took a pillow and placed it under her head. He brushed her hair to the side, leaned down, and kissed her, tenderly this time. Chilly air was still streaming in from the French doors, so he retrieved a throw from an armchair, kissed both her nipples, and then spread it over her.

“What are you doing?” she mumbled, studying him through her long, dark eyelashes.

“I’m pampering you,” he said. “Would you like anything to drink?”

“Not really,” she replied. “But there’s vodka in the freezer if you want some.”

“Vodka,” he said with a smile. “What else? Stay here.”

 

David went out to the kitchen, and Natalia squirmed on the sofa. She was unsatisfied. Not that she normally came with particularly impressive frequency, but she’d been close and now it was over. She closed her eyes. She supposed she wasn’t exactly disappointed; it had been really amazing, but . . . Yes—but.

“Natalia?”

He stood in the doorway with a frosty bottle of Stolichnaya and two plain glasses in his hand. He sat down next to her on the sofa, poured the vodka, and handed her one glass. “Cheers,” he said.

“Nah zdarovya,” she replied, and then they drank in silence. The liquor was viscously cold. She rarely drank vodka—her brother Alex had forgotten the bottle at her place at some point—but she liked the burning sensation in her stomach.

She studied David over the rim of her glass. She had never met a man who could sit naked on a sofa and yet still seem like he was in total command of the room.

He set down his glass. Slowly he ran his hand over her leg, brushing the soft throw aside. Natalia closed her eyes and let herself be swept away by the sensation. He had such incredible hands, strong and sure. He massaged her feet, her calves.

“So soft,” he murmured.

Natalia heard a sound, like a purr, and realized it must have come from her. His hands searched their way up her calves, and she heard her breathing change. She hadn’t come, and endorphins and adrenaline were coursing around in her blood now. His touch aroused her, made her soft, pliable, short of breath, and very, very excited.

“I like your legs,” he said, pulling away the blanket so she lay completely naked before him. “Spread your legs, Natalia,” he said softly.

She swallowed.

Okay.

She did as he said, opening her legs.

“Farther,” he ordered.

Natalia’s pulse galloped and her heart pounded as she slowly spread her legs under his gaze, opening herself to him. She had never done anything like this before.

“Good,” he said. “Now I can see you.” As he spoke, he caressed the inside of her thigh, higher and higher, and Natalia shuddered.

“So sensitive,” he murmured and pinched her, not hard, but not softly either. She moaned.

“I want you to enjoy this too.” He pinched her again, higher this time, and Natalia’s breathing quickened. She was so turned on she was having a hard time lying still.

David lay down next to her on the sofa, moving so that she was between him and the back of the sofa. He took one of her nipples between his thumb and index finger and studied her intently as he squeezed, quite hard. Oh God.

He slid his hand down her stomach, stroking his finger along the dark hair that began there.

“Please . . . ,” she moaned softly.

He cupped his hand over her and finally, finally began to stroke her. He was so incredibly attentive, found a rhythm that was frighteningly right. She only needed to pant, nod, or close her eyes, and he adjusted his pace. It was magic. He leaned over and kissed her deeply, continuing his stroking all the while.

Natalia started to tremble.

He murmured words that would normally have made her blush, hot, arousing words between kisses and caresses, and she passed the limit where she knew she was going to come now. She pushed herself against his body, against his hand, against his mouth, and she—who was always analyzing, considering, and reasoning—quit thinking, stopped doing anything. She just was, dissolving under his hand, and then she came.

This can’t be happening, she thought, and realized she was sobbing. Afterward she lay heavily on the sofa. She couldn’t move a limb. David slid his arm under her and cradled her against him.

“So this is what everyone is always talking about,” she said, her voice sounding lazy. “I had no idea it could be like that, no idea.” Her eyelids closed. She’d never felt so relaxed in her life.

“Yes, it was different for me too,” David said into her hair. He slowly stroked her arms and captured her legs between his own. “Better. We’re a good fit,” he said. “Sexually, I mean.”

His voice sank to a low murmur. His mouth moved against her hair while he cautiously stroked her oversensitized skin. Natalia drifted off. It was impossible to stay awake, as if days of tension, hours of concentration, had disappeared. Her eyelids closed and she was asleep.

 

David’s snoring in her ear woke her up. It had been a long time—too long—since she’d had a man here. Cautiously she started to disentangle herself from the sofa.

“What are you doing?” he murmured, moving an arm over her in protest.

“Lighting some candles,” she replied, managing to slip off the sofa.

“Don’t be gone too long,” he said. “You’re very nice to lie next to.”

While Natalia found some candles and a lighter, she heard David’s breathing deepen as he fell asleep again. She padded around, lighting every candle she could find. Then she stopped by the sofa and watched him. He was basically made of muscles, his lines all masculine. The candles cast flickering shadows over him, and her eyes lingered longingly on his chest, his legs, his . . . well. He was magnificent. She couldn’t find any words. The fleeting thought of whatever she’d felt on his back came to mind, but she shook it off. He hadn’t wanted to talk about it, and it was none of her business.

She took a thin blanket off the other sofa and padded out onto the balcony.

She had bought this apartment with her own money, not her family’s, but with her own salary and through a realtor who wasn’t her father’s. She rarely invited anyone over. She’d only had Jonas up here before, at least in this sense, and that had been quite some time ago.

She pulled the blanket more tightly around her, the soles of her feet adjusting to the cool balcony. She loved her apartment, and most of all she loved her balcony. It wasn’t particularly wide, but it was long, and she had set out pots along the iron railing with easy-to-tend shrubs. She had added big hurricane lamps, which she now lit while she was at it, and then she leaned her forearms on the railing and looked out. She was surrounded by technology, electronic devices, and ringing phones every day. She needed this oasis.

“What are you doing?”

David’s voice made her jump, and just as she did his arm slid around her from behind.

“Just enjoying myself,” she replied.

David laughed quietly against the nape of her neck. “You’re good at enjoying yourself,” he said. “I can’t remember the last time I heard a woman enjoy herself so loudly.”

“Thanks for reminding me,” she replied. “All my neighbors probably heard me.”

“Heard us,” he said. “That was amazing. You are amazing.” His hands slid up and cupped her breasts. Natalia pressed back against him while jutting her breasts forward into his hands. The blanket started to slide off her.

“Maybe we ought to go back inside,” she said as his hands found their way between her thighs. The iron railing was thin, and if anyone down on the street looked up, they would be seen. She trembled as his finger slid into her, stroking her just the right way. How could he already know so much about what she liked?

“David . . .”

“Shh,” he said. “You’re disturbing my concentration. Put your hands on the railing.”

She should have hesitated or protested but instead she did what he said, spellbound and seduced. Chemistry, it’s just chemistry, she convinced herself as she closed her eyes and squeezed the iron railing.

 

David ran his hand down Natalia’s spine. He pulled her curvy buttocks to him and enjoyed the feeling of having her so close. He pushed himself against her, caressing the silky cheeks.

“David,” Natalia gasped over her shoulder.

“Do you want to go inside?” he asked with a smile.

“Don’t you?”

“No.”

He wanted her here, out on her balcony with her hands on the railing. He quickly fetched a condom and ripped open the package. He entered her slowly, enjoying the view. Natalia made a soft, delightful sound. Then she started moving against him.

Perfectly, she fit perfectly. He leaned forward and held a sensitive nipple between his thumb and index finger in the way he’d already learned she liked. He felt her muscles tighten around him and then she made another sound, an almost animal sound that echoed over the street below.

David pinned her to the railing. He held her so hard that she could hardly move as he took her in slow, deep thrusts. He leaned into her back, cupped one hand over her sex, and separated her heat. “I want you to come for me again, Natalia,” he whispered.

“David,” she panted against the railing.

“Let go,” he urged her, thrusting into her, harder and deeper.

Natalia came just as intensely as the first time and stifled a scream that made the railing reverberate. David kept pumping into her until he too detonated. His orgasm was so powerful that he literally lost his footing for a moment. Gasping for breath, he leaned against her, rubbing his chin against her back, burying his nose in her hair.

“Well, that does it,” Natalia said. “Now I’m going to have to move.”

He laughed.

 

Afterward they sat entwined on one of her enormous sofas.

They watched the candles burning, listened to Sarah Harvey, talked, and sipped vodka.

Then, when the sun started to rise, they made love again. Slowly and sincerely, which made Natalia shed a tear that she quickly wiped away. Because she knew, she just knew he wasn’t going to stay, that it was over. And sure enough, even though it was only two or maybe three in the morning, it was already getting light in the eastern sky when David gathered up his clothing, quickly got dressed, and said good-bye.

Natalia heard his footsteps fading away in the stairwell, and she refused to feel anything but pleasure, pleasure for the experience, pleasure for having gotten to feel so beautiful and attractive, and happiness, despite his not having said anything about their seeing each other again.

She walked into the kitchen and opened the fridge. It was almost totally empty, just a jar of gherkins and one of cocktail onions. After a moment’s hesitation she opted for the gherkins. She poured herself a splash of vodka and took the jar and her glass out to the balcony.

The sun was already at full strength. It was going to be another broiling day, and she heard the paperboy coming down the street. She was only human, just a woman, she thought, fishing out a gherkin with her fingers. And David was so very much a man. She took small sips of the vodka and pulled the blanket tighter around herself. The smell of him was still everywhere, and she breathed in the scent of his aftershave, of salt, and of their lovemaking as she let her mind wander.

She had grown up with animals. She had taken care of horses her whole life, from her first pony to her chestnut Lovely, whom she still rode as often as she could.

As a teenager she’d tagged along with various veterinarians who worked with abused racehorses. Once she’d gone along with a veterinarian on a call to treat a stallion whose owner had whipped him. The animal recovered tolerably, but the scars never went away.

She stuffed the last gherkin into her mouth meditatively. True, she had never worked at a hospital or other doctor’s office, but she was guessing that scar tissue looked about the same in people and animals. She set down the jar and swallowed the rest of the vodka. She rested her chin on her knees and pulled the blanket over her.

So the question was—who had whipped David Hammar’s back so horrifically?