The Innocent's Surrender

For a moment she felt him pause, heard him say her name harshly, almost questioningly, then, when she still did not offer any kind of response, push forward in the final surge of conquest, sheathing himself in her completely.

Natasha stayed totally, rigidly motionless, only her hands moving as they clenched into tight fists at her sides.

It will be over soon, she thought as tiny sparks danced behind her tightly closed eyelids, and repeated the words like a mantra—over soon—over soon…

She caught her bottom lip between her teeth, deliberately emptying her mind, and shutting off all thought and emotion, as Alex Mandrakis began to move, driving into her slowly and rhythmically, furthering his possession with an exquisite sensual precision that in itself seemed a kind of insult.

Even though her eyes were shut, she knew instinctively that he was watching her, waiting presumably for some kind of reaction. But he would learn nothing, she thought, from a face that she was taking care to keep as blank and expressionless as a mask.

But it wasn’t easy. To her dismay, and in spite of the slight discomfort that still lingered, she soon discovered she was not totally immune to the alien, bewildering sensations being provoked by the compelling motion of his body inside hers.

She’d expected to fight him, she thought, alarmed, but she had not bargained for having to fight herself too. But she could not let this happen, she resolved, her throat tightening in mingled shame and panic. She could not allow herself such weakness when she needed to be strong.

Yet how could she have known, she asked herself in bewilderment, how, in spite of everything, he might make her feel? How her body might act against the strength of her will—her anger—tempting her to surrender.

Then, as she found she was actually beginning to struggle to maintain her self-control, she heard his breathing change, and was aware of his pace quickening, until suddenly he cried out, his voice harsh, almost agonised, and she felt the pulsating heat of him deep within her, before he slumped forward, his sweat-dampened face against her breasts.

Natasha waited for a few moments, but he did not stir, so slowly and carefully she began to ease herself away from him.

Immediately, his arms tightened around her. ‘So the statue comes to life at last,’ he said huskily. ‘Now, when it is over.’

Over, she thought with thankfulness. Over—exactly as she’d wanted it to be, and she’d given him nothing. So it was ludicrous to feel so…bereft. Mortifying, too, to know that, for the briefest instant, she’d actually been tempted to cradle his head between her hands, and stroke his hair.

She said in a small, wooden voice, ‘You’re heavy.’

‘Forgive me.’ His voice was softly ironic. ‘Treat it as just one more inconvenience among so many others, Natasha mou.’

He lifted himself off her and lay back against his pillows, staring in front of him as he steadied his breathing.

After a while, she spoke again. ‘Please, may I use your bathroom? I’d like to have a shower.’

‘Later,’ he said. ‘After we have talked a little.’

‘I don’t think there’s anything left to say.’ As she tried to turn away his hand snaked out and captured her chin, making her face him.

‘Then you would be wrong,’ he told her. ‘As a beginning, tell me about your English lover.’

‘He’s warm, kind and decent,’ Natasha said shortly. ‘Your exact opposite, in fact, Kyrios Mandrakis. What else do you want to know?’

‘When you are in bed with him, do you come?’

She gasped, and colour flooded her face. ‘Yes,’ she said jerkily, pushing his hand away from her. ‘Yes, of course.’

‘And before him,’ the quiet voice went on. ‘How many other men were there?’

‘Dozens,’ she said defiantly.

Alex Mandrakis sighed. ‘If I teach you one thing in our time together, Natasha,’ he remarked tersely, ‘it will be to tell me the truth. Until I took you a little while ago, you were a virgin, so do not bother to deny it. Or did you think I would not know?’

‘I—I wasn’t sure,’ she muttered, aware that her flush had deepened.

‘Yet you did not think to tell me,’ he said. ‘Why not?’

‘Because you’d already made up your mind what I was,’ she said. ‘Thanks to that revolting letter. So you wouldn’t have believed me, whatever I’d said.’ She paused. ‘Besides, even if you had known, would it have made any difference to—to what you were planning for me?’

‘No,’ he said. ‘Except that I would have made sure that your body was rather more receptive to such an initiation.’ His mouth twisted wryly. ‘I hurt you, Natasha mou, but by the time I realised the truth, it was too late, and I regret that.’

He paused. ‘My only excuse is that I wanted you very badly.’

‘Well, please don’t let it weigh on what passes for your conscience,’ she said tautly. ‘In the broad scheme of things, it’s hardly the worst injury you’ll make me suffer, I’m sure.’

He said slowly, ‘It does not have to be like that.’

Her eyes flew to his. She said hoarsely, ‘Do you mean you’re willing to let me go after all?’

‘No,’ he said, ‘I am not, so do not even hope.’

‘But why?’ She swallowed. ‘You’ve got what you wanted, so you don’t need to keep me around any longer. There’s no point.’

‘There is the pleasure of your company,’ he corrected silkily.

‘You can say that when you know I hate you?’ Natasha shook her head. ‘When you must realise that I wouldn’t voluntarily choose to spend five minutes with you?’

‘Perhaps, Natasha mou, you will discover that I improve on acquaintance.’ His voice was solemn, but, to her fury, amusement was dancing in the dark eyes. ‘And to prove that I too can be kind on occasion, we will take that shower you mentioned.’

We…? Alarm bells sounded in her head as Alex tossed away the covers and swung himself off the bed.

She clutched at the sheet. ‘I—I can wait…’ she said, trying, even at this juncture, not to look at him.

‘Why—when there is no need?’ He was laughing openly now. ‘Believe me, my lovely one, you have nothing to fear. You will never be safer from my attentions than you are now.’ He held out a hand. ‘Come with me.’

He waited, and when she still hesitated he sighed briefly and impatiently, twitched the sheet from her grasp and scooped her up from the bed, carrying her in his arms across the room to a door standing ajar, and shouldering it open.

Natasha received a fleeting impression of creamy tiles marbled in blue and gold, and mirrors everywhere, as Alex walked with her to a shower cabinet almost as large as the entire bathroom at her flat. He set her on her feet directly under the shower head and joined her, switching on the water to full power.

As the force of it hit her, she gasped, and Alex’s arm went round her, steadying her. After a moment, he adjusted the flow, and reached for the shower gel. He tipped some into his hand, turning her so that her back was towards him, and began to apply the scented lather to her skin, beginning with her shoulders and working downwards in small circular movements, his fingertips firm and very sure.