Untouched by His Diamonds by Lucy Ellis Page A

in his head. Thoughts of looking after her.
    This Clementine could look after herself.
    He relaxed.
    ‘I’m going to freshen up,’ she said stiltedly, a little afraid that when she came back he would be gone. ‘It’s been a long day.’
    Serge didn’t attempt to stop her. She had a right to be annoyed with him. He wasn’t going to be able to do justice to her beautiful body this week with so much going on in the outside world. But he could make it up to her now—soothe that little temper of hers in a mutually satisfactory way.
    Clementine satisfied herself by calling him every name in the book as she stripped off in the bathroom, stepping into the pressure-activated shower and letting the warm water do its soothing job. Where was the sweet, attentive man who’d listened to her over dinner and held her hand going in and out of the restaurant, who’d been so romantic with her last night?
    Gone the way of the fairies, Clementine. Because he never existed. Now that he’d had her he’d cooled off. She’d heard about guys like him. Once the chase was over so was the romance. She snorted. She’d been such an idiot. The romance she’d been hoping for hadn’t even got off the ground because there never
had
been any romance.
    Serge knocked once, for appearances’ sake, then opened the bathroom door. There she was—one of his afternoon’s fantasies come to life. All six feet of naked Clementine, with water running over her pale honey skin, the graceful seashell-pink-tippedbreasts, the narrow waist that only made the extravagant flare of her hips and bottom all the more dramatic, and those long, long legs.
    She turned, sensing him, and those lovely eyes of hers narrowed.
    ‘Don’t even try it, Marinov.’
    But he knew the battles he could win, and this was one of them.
    Fully dressed, he stepped under the water stream, hands sliding around her. When she opened her mouth to swear a blue streak at him he took it as his invitation to lower his head and kiss her.
    Clementine put up a good fight against her desire for him, holding off for at least five seconds before she spread her hands over his shoulders and pressed herself up against him. With his arms around her he felt solid and exciting, and everything fell away except for this. The way he made her feel. Beautiful, wanted, safe.
    So many firsts, she thought later as she sat on the bed, wrapped in a big warm towel, knowing she needed to go and get dressed.
    It was all playing through her head. Serge hadn’t even removed his clothes—just unzipped and it had been happening, and her need had climbed with his at breakneck speed. What was wrong with her? She should have yelled at him—not had sex with him.
    He was treating her like a convenience.
    It was never more obvious than when he came out of the
en suite
bathroom, towelling dry his hair. He glanced at the digital clock and swore softly in Russian.
    More disappointed with him by the minute, she said sharply, ‘Going to be late, Serge? Never mind—just tell your friends you couldn’t keep it zipped up. I’m sure it’s not the first time.’
    He dropped the towel to his side. He looked genuinely shocked.
    Good. For five whole seconds she had a little payback.
    But then he drawled, ‘It’s work, Clementine, and it’s twenty-four-seven. Welcome to my world.’ He threw the towel onto a chair and slid open a drawer. ‘And, by the way, crudity doesn’t suit you. I’d prefer you continued to behave like the lady you are.’
    ‘Except when I’ve got my legs wrapped around your waist in the shower,’ she shot back, hurt.
    He flashed a charismatic smile over his shoulder. ‘Exactly.’
    Oh, boy. A streak of healthy cleansing anger ripped through her body. She was
so
out of here. His week of pleasure had just got foreshortened to one night. When he got back she’d be gone. Over the hills. Far, far away.
    But even as she formed the thought of escape she dug her toes a little more firmly into the carpet. Oh,