The Russian's Acquistion(63)

                It wasn’t his usual exchange of luxuries for sex either. They were both getting exactly what they wanted from that side of things.

                His mind drifted to the other morning when his housekeeper had called in sick. Clair had made him breakfast. As her short robe had fluttered around her bare thighs, teasing him with glimpses of her bottom, he’d grown so hard his appetite for food had fallen to a distant second behind his hunger for her. She’d noticed.

                Seated on a kitchen chair, he’d pulled her to straddle him and they’d teased and tantalized each other, playing out the lovemaking, holding back even when he was inside her, driving each other crazy until he’d had to knock his eggs to the floor and take her on the table, urged to thrust hard and fast by her breathy pleas. They’d climaxed together, vocal and near violent, and had been equally shaken and quiet afterward.

                He’d taken her back to bed, where she’d slept against him, her head a kitten weight on his chest. He had dozed, but mostly he’d berated himself for failing to use a condom.

                What was he trying to do, tie her to him forever?

                He hadn’t brought himself to mention it when she had stretched awake against him, but later in the day she’d shyly informed him she didn’t think pregnancy was an issue and that they’d have to curtail their favorite activity for a few days.

                A weight of disappointment had settled on him, one he’d blamed on abstinence, but they’d been back to basics this morning and even though he was still fogged with sexual satisfaction, he was also aware of a cloud of unease hanging over him.

                Guilt.

                The more he learned about Clair, the more he knew how badly he’d taken advantage of her. If he had the least shred of conscience in him, he’d give her up, but watching her natural reserve evaporate was positively entrancing. She had made the first move this morning, rolling atop him and telling him how much she’d missed making love with him. How could any man be expected to forgo waking up to that?

                Unable to bring the ends of this particular rope together, he stopped gazing out the window and gave up pretending that he was working. His ambition was nonexistent. He’d only been in the office an hour, but he began to pack up for lunch, excited as a schoolboy for the ring of the bell. Lazlo had inadvertently revealed while arranging Clair’s credit card the other day that her birthday was coming up. She had become flustered and dismissive when Aleksy had asked her how she wanted to celebrate, eventually confessing that birthdays had always been a disappointment along with Christmas.

                He was determined to turn that around for her, starting with a visit to the city’s best jeweler on his way to meet her at an exclusive, sky-high restaurant. Enjoying the way she reacted when he surprised her with toys and trinkets didn’t make him selfish, he told himself. It was the opposite.

                Wasn’t it?

                A short time later, however, as he scanned past diamond rings to bracelets and pendants, he recalled the way his father had often taken pains to barter for some treasure or another that his mother had coveted. Once it had been a sewing machine, another time a pair of gold earrings. His father had rubbed his hands in glee at being able to surprise his wife with her heart’s desire.

                That’s all he, Aleksy, wanted to do for Clair, but it felt as if he was making false promises. The sparkling rings mocked him. He couldn’t keep this up, keep her, forever, even if he wanted to.

                Did he want to?

                He clenched a fist, aware of a deep need to have her as readily at hand as everything else that was vital to his existence. Air, water. Clair.