Ruthless Russian, Lost Innocence - Shaw Chantelle (читаем книги онлайн бесплатно полностью TXT) 📗
‘When you say lovers, what exactly do you have in mind?’ she queried coolly. ‘I know from press reports that you travel widely for your company, and I am frequently on tour with the RLO, so I’m not sure how we could maintain a meaningful relationship.’
He frowned, clearly taken aback by her words. ‘To be honest, I had not thought that far ahead,’ he drawled. ‘I am suggesting that we explore the sexual attraction that exists between us, but talk of a relationship is a little premature, don’t you think?’
Vadim Aleksandrov and the late Earl Stafford had a lot in common, Ella brooded, not least their cavalier attitude towards women. ‘I might have known that a man like you would only be interested in physical satisfaction,’ she said bitterly, forcing herself to sound coldly dismissive to disguise her intense awareness of him.
Vadim’s eyes narrowed at her haughty tone. ‘A man like me?’ he queried softly. The expression on Ella’s face was dismissive, scornful, and anger flared inside him. Did she think he was beneath her because he had started out in life with nothing, while she had been born into the wealthy, privileged lifestyle of the British upper class?
He was used to women who played games, and he had cynically assumed that Ella had been cool with him because it amused her. Now he wondered if her refusal to date him was because she deemed him a lowly immigrant from the Eastern bloc who had made a fast buck, not worthy of her. He assured himself he did not give a damn about her opinion of him, but to his annoyance his pride stung. ‘What kind of a man do you think I am?’ he demanded harshly.
As Ella stared at his hard-boned face her mind flew back across the years and she was back at Stafford Hall, huddled at the top of the stairs, peering through the banisters to the hall below, where her mother was sobbing as she pleaded with a cold, arrogantly handsome man.
‘You’re going to her again, aren’t you? Did you think I was unaware of your latest mistress when the whole of London knows you spend your nights with your tart instead of with me? For pity’s sake, Lionel…’
Judith Stafford lifted her hands beseechingly towards her husband, but there was no pity in the Earl’s eyes, just cold indifference which turned to anger when his wife clutched the lapels of his jacket.
‘Why on earth would I want to spend any more time than I have to with you? You’re a neurotic, pathetic mess.’ Lip curling with distaste, Lionel Stafford pushed the weeping woman away from him with such force that she stumbled and fell to her knees. ‘Pull yourself together, Judith, and be thankful I go elsewhere for my pleasures when you consistently deny me my rights in the marriage bed.’
‘I’m not well, Lionel. You know my heart condition means I have to be careful…’
‘Well, I’m bored with your illness.’ The Earl flung open the door and gave one last withering glance at his wife, still kneeling on the cold marble floor. ‘Don’t wait up,’ he said mockingly. ‘I don’t know when I’ll be back.’
Ella remembered the anger that had surged through her as her father had slammed the door behind him, and the pity and the feeling of utter helplessness as she’d watched her mother slowly drag herself to her feet and make her way wearily to the stairs. At twelve years old she had been unable to voice her hatred of her father, and less than a year later, after her mother had died of heart failure, she had been packed off to boarding school and left in the charge of a nanny during the holidays, while the Earl disappeared abroad. Her resentment had continued to fester inside her. Lionel Stafford had died before Ella had had the opportunity to tell him how much she hated him, but now, as she stared at Vadim’s arrogant face, her bitterness came tumbling out.
‘I think you are the kind of man who selfishly takes what you want and gives nothing in return. You have a reputation as a playboy, but you have no respect for women.’ She lifted her head and glared at him, determined not to be fazed by the mocking gaze that so infuriated her. But there was no amusement in those piercing blue eyes, just a feral gleam that made her feel hot and shivery at the same time, and she had the uncomfortable feeling that he could see inside her head.
Anger surged up inside her, making her tremble with its intensity. How dared he make the casual suggestion that they should become lovers? And how dared he kiss her with such shocking hunger that he had forced her to respond to him against her will? She could not drag her gaze from his mouth, couldn’t forget the sensual pleasure of his lips sliding over hers, but no way did she want him to kiss her again-of course she didn’t, she assured herself fiercely.
‘I’d rather die than have you touch me again.’ As soon as the words were out she knew she’d sounded childish and overdramatic, and her blush deepened when he gave her an amused glance.
‘If I thought you really meant it I would walk away and never trouble you again,’ he said softly. ‘But we both know it isn’t true. You desire me as much as I want you, and have done since the moment we met in Paris. The attraction between us was instant, like wildfire, but you don’t have the guts to be honest about it.’
Incensed, she stared at him, shaking with rage, and yet deep down she was aware of a need to goad him, to make him do…what? ‘How can you possibly think you know my mind better than I do?’ she gritted.
‘I know you want me to kiss you again.’ His voice was suddenly rough, the amusement in his eyes replaced by scorching heat. ‘Let’s try a little experiment, shall we?’ His arm shot out and he jerked her against him, ignoring her struggles to escape with insulting ease as he lowered his mouth to hers.
There was no gentleness this time, just raw, primitive passion as he took without mercy, forcing her lips apart with a bold flick of his tongue before he thrust deep into her moist warmth and explored her with ruthless efficiency. Fighting him was impossible when his arms were clamped like a vice around her body. But she did not have to respond to him, her brain pointed out. She could simply remain passive until he’d finished with her. But, to her shame, her willpower was nonexistent, and the delicious pressure of his mouth proved an irresistible temptation.
It was ridiculous that at twenty-four she did not know how to kiss a man properly, Ella mused. But her music consumed her so utterly that she had never felt more than mild curiosity about the opposite sex, and on the rare occasions she had agreed to go on a date she had found the obligatory fumbling kiss in the car, with the gear lever jammed into her ribs, totally uninspiring.
Being kissed by Vadim was a completely different experience. He was a master in the art of seduction, while she was dangerously out of her depth. The erotic sweep of his tongue destroyed her thought processes, and she gave up trying to deny him when it meant denying herself, initiating a tentative exploration of her own that elicited a low groan from him as he felt her complete capitulation.
She was flushed and breathless when he finally released her. ‘You see-you survived,’ he taunted softly.
Ella wished she could make some cutting retort, but her brain seemed to have stopped functioning. Her lips felt swollen when she traced them with her tongue, and she doubted she could have uttered a word.
Vadim’s eyes darkened as he watched the darting foray of her pink tongue-tip, and he muttered something she assumed was Russian as he made to pull her back into his arms. But suddenly, shockingly, the orangery was flooded with a brilliant glare as someone pushed open the door and flicked the light switch.
‘Oh…sorry.’ Jenny did not bother to disguise her curiosity as she watched Ella flush scarlet and spring away from the gorgeous Russian hunk who had been eyeing her up all night. ‘Ella, there’s been a mix-up with the taxis. They’ve only sent one car, and Claire’s cello will take up half the back seat. The driver says he’ll come back for you after he’s driven us home, as you live in the opposite direction. Do you mind waiting?’
