All In (18 page)

22

N
atalia was like a drug to him. David couldn't describe it any other way.

He couldn't think clearly.

Or he didn't want to.

Because somewhere inside himself, even as he climbed into the taxi and gave the driver Natalia's address, David knew that if he were thinking clearly he would not continue this relationship. Not with everything that was on the line. Investum stock was changing hands at an exponentially increased rate now. Five of the biggest brokerage firms were ready. They had bought shares for Hammar Capital under various dummy corporations and would sign over ownership to him the moment they received word.

Legally he was operating in murky territory, he thought, as he watched the city go by outside the cab. It wasn't strictly illegal, but it was definitely unethical, and it would make a lot of people in the financial world hit the roof, especially those following their own double standard. All of David's backers had come through with the funds they'd promised, which meant that Hammar Capital now had a staggering hundred billion Swedish kronor at its disposal. Without a doubt this was the biggest takeover ever in Sweden, maybe in all of Europe. It would be on the front page of the
Wall Street Journal
, and their renown would reverberate well beyond the financial sector.

It was actually inconceivable that nothing had leaked yet. Indeed, no one besides David and Michel had the whole picture. And it just wasn't imaginable that anyone would go after Investum, the backbone of the nation. The finance world had its unwritten rules, and David was poised to break pretty much all of them. He would succeed. David felt that in every fiber and cell of his being. They would force Investum to its knees. The giant would bleed and fall. The history of Swedish business would be divided into before and after this event.

He needed a clear head for this, to be able to focus on the complexity of what they were doing.

So he couldn't have his head full of Natalia this way, couldn't drift off into thoughts about sex and laughter and some strange emotion he wouldn't name.

So
one last time
, he told himself, as the cab stopped on her quiet street and he paid. That was what this was. He would be with her one last time, end this as nicely as he could, and then he would be free. With precision and focus. That was all this was about. Ending it.

There was no alternative.

None.

He called up from the front door and was buzzed in, took the stairs, couldn't bear the thought of standing still in the elevator. His heart hammered and his blood coursed, and when Natalia opened the door he buried himself in her, put his hands on her cheeks, kicked the door shut behind him, and pushed her against the wall with his kiss. She gasped and caught fire in his embrace. He pulled on her tight pencil skirt, tugging it up over her thighs, tore her panties to the side. She was wet when he cupped his hand over her.

“David,” she breathed.

He inhaled the scent of her. She pushed herself against his hand. She was so easy to read, and he stroked her until she came, fast and hard, almost furiously against his hand. She clung to his neck with her skirt around her hips and her satiny heat convulsing around his fingers. They panted against each other's skin, and when he wrapped a hand around the back of her head, she was sweaty. He unbuttoned her blouse without a word, pulled her bra down, and laid a hand over one breast.

She took a deep breath and said in a wobbly voice, “Would you like to come in?”

He almost laughed, realizing they were still just inside her front door. “I really would,” he said.

She pulled her skirt back down over her hips, took his hand, and led him down the hallway to a door.

It was a bedroom, which smelled clean and like Natalia.

The bed was made, white sheets, so very erotic in all their chastity.

“We've had sex on your sofa,” he said. “And in the front hallway and on your balcony, but this is actually the first time I've seen your bedroom.”

“I know,” she said, undoing her bra and letting it drop to the floor. “I've never experienced anything like this before.” She stepped out of her skirt and panties, and stood there, poised, naked, graceful.

She helped him off with his T-shirt, ran her palms over his chest, then over his upper arms. She looked determined, so David let her proceed, knowing he would get to do what he wanted with her soon. She unbuttoned his pants, pulled down the zipper, and stroked him with the same intense seriousness. He saw her breathing speed up, saw the heat sweep over her, coloring her pale skin pink. He closed his eyes as she curled a hand around him. “I've been longing to have you inside me,” she said hoarsely.

He raised an eyebrow. “Rough day?”

She nodded. “Do you have protection?”

He pulled out the packet he'd brought.

She lay down on the bed, stretched out. Those long limbs, her arms over her head, one leg over the edge of the bed, the other pulled up, completely unashamed.

Never in his life had he put a condom on so quickly. He lay down on top of her, spread her legs, clasped both of her hands in one of his, and pushed, pressed, plowed into her. Her hips flew up; he placed one of her legs over his shoulder and then took her until he was close. She looked like she was almost there.

He brought a hand between them and stroked her.

“Natalia?”

“Mmm,” she mumbled.

“Are you with me?”

“I think so. This is so nice.” Her voice was husky. He studied her, so very close to coming.

“Can you look at me?”

She opened her golden eyes and looked at him through a veil of arousal. He thrust into her, pressing with his hand at the same time. Her eyes glazed over.

“Don't disappear,” he commanded and did it again. And again. He watched her orgasm begin, felt it in her body, and when she contracted around him, squeezing him with her internal muscles, he came too. He didn't look away, loved watching her come just as he pushed into her one last time, buried himself, and exploded inside her.

He tried to catch his breath. Realized he needed to move, that he was too heavy. And then he shifted off her and collapsed on the spacious bed.

They lay next to each other, gasping for breath. His senses began to come back online, one by one. The scent of the room. The light from the window. The silence of the neighborhood.

“I'm glad you came,” she said.

“I'm glad
you
came. Twice.”

She laughed, and he stretched out his arm as she rested her head on his chest. It felt good to have her there.

“This is nice,” she said, resting her hand on his rib cage.

“Better than nice,” he said emphatically and pulled her in closer. She was sweaty, and her long hair twisted around them both.

“I was so glad you called,” she said, and he knew he ought to defend himself against the warmth in her voice, felt himself being pulled out to sea.

But instead he candidly said, “I was glad you invited me over. You didn't have a good time at your folks' place?”

She exhaled against his chest. “At my brother's place. He took over the house last year. He and his wife.”

“Louise, right? I've met her.” David vaguely remembered a chilly blond woman. Girls like that had been a dime a dozen back at Skogbacka. “You said you go there to ride? Do you have your own horse?”

She nodded.

Of course she did.

“Do you ride?” she asked.

He laughed at the absurd question. “No. I don't even like horses. I don't like the countryside, and I don't like horses. And besides, they're a bad investment. I only pursue things that pay off.”

“You're lying. You like to read, you gave me tickets to Sarah Harvey, and you bought me a hot dog. I don't think you're as hard-nosed and tough as you want to appear.”

“I love horseback riding,” she continued. “It demands all your attention. You can't think about anything else. You know, they say you have to fall off at least a hundred times to be a good rider?”

“Are you good?”

“Yes.”

He could picture her, purposeful after a fall, covered in dirt, joints stiff but determined to get up again and keep going. “I suppose that's true of most things,” David mused. “You have to be competitive, to hate losing.”

“Oh, how I hate to lose,” she said so emphatically that he laughed. He felt the same way.

She ran her hand over his chest and stomach, tracing the contours of his abs with her finger. “So, if you don't ride, how do you get your exercise?” she asked. “Or are you just naturally super muscular?” She put a hand on his thigh.

“I run,” he mumbled. “And I play tennis, mostly with clients.” Her hand moved.

“Do you play tennis?” he asked. He would really like to see her in a short, white skirt. His cock jumped. She studied it and smiled, filling him with anticipation. When was the last time he'd had this much energy?

“I'm an upper-class girl. I play tennis, and enjoy horseback riding and skiing. Although I draw the line at golf.”

“I play soccer,” he said.

“Soccer?” She stroked his thigh, and he forced himself to focus on the conversation.

“Yes,” he said. He actually never talked about this, not with business contacts, not with the press. It was too private. But now he heard himself telling Natalia, “Michel and I coach a youth team northwest of Stockholm.” It was far out, in one of the really rough neighborhoods, and it felt good. And very, very private. “I'm actually quite good at soccer.” He wanted her to remember that. That he did at least one unselfish thing in this world.

Her hand stopped moving. “You should be careful, David,” she murmured. “Soon you'll have me believing you're not an evil venture capitalist at all.”

He pulled her briskly to him, under him, and moved over her. He looked deep into her eyes, and as he kissed her, he knew that if his goal in coming over here had been to get over Natalia De la Grip, then he'd really been deluding himself. “I don't know if I can handle letting you go quite yet,” he mumbled.

“That's totally fine,” she smiled, and they kissed again. Her tongue was so warm and lively. But when her hands slid around his back, he stiffened and tried to pull away.

But she didn't let go; she spread her hands and fingers out, covered his whole back and refused to be brushed aside. “No,” she said.

David gave her a look of warning, but Natalia shook her head, stubbornness making her eyes burn. “I want to,” she said with determination. One finger traced a rough scar, and David felt a wave of discomfort.

“Lie on your stomach,” she said. Her eyes bored into him.

He looked at her for a long time. She was going too far, coming too close.

 

Natalia looked at the serious expression on David's face and knew he was planning to refuse her. Their eyes locked in a battle of wills. She saw emotions flickering over his face, emotions she chose not to analyze.

She just persisted and decided not to cave.

“Natalia,” he said in warning.

“No,” she repeated. Hadn't she just told him how strong-willed she was? She wasn't planning on backing down now.

And suddenly he was shaking his head. “Stubborn woman,” he muttered, but he obediently rolled over so he was lying on his stomach.

Good Lord.

His back was in a ghastly state. “Who did this?” she asked quietly. There were so many scars, it was impossible to even count them. How long did it take to whip someone like this?

“It wasn't just one person.”

She waited.

“It was at school,” he sighed and she knew he was talking about Skogbacka. Skogbacka Grammar School, framed in greenery . . . With its notorious bullying, the scandals. And that was only what had reached the press—Natalia knew that was probably just a fraction of it. Suddenly she regretted insisting, wasn't sure she could bear to hear the truth. She realized the scars didn't hurt anymore, but she wanted to caress them, ease the pain that must have been unbearable at one time.

“I had a hard time adjusting to the hierarchy,” he said, his head resting on his cheek on the mattress. His voice was calm, sounded totally unaffected. “I refused to allow them to humiliate me—you know, with their baptism by fire and all that shit. It went on a long time. My attitude really bugged them, my being different.” He shrugged. “I was sixteen and so fucking arrogant, and of course that made it all worse. One day they tricked me into going down into the basement. I was supposed to be punished for something I'd done that they hadn't liked. There was a soundproof room down there. They whipped me and left me there. For a long time. The wounds didn't heal the way they were supposed to.”

“What happened to them?”

“What do you think?”

“Nothing. It was hushed up?”

He nodded.

First David's schoolmates had taught him that he was inferior to them, just because they went to these ridiculous dinners in tuxes and drove sports cars while he was poor, and then they had physically abused him for daring to stand up for himself.

Natalia had never been as ashamed of belonging to her social stratum as she was now, but she decided not to press him any further, suspected she had already gotten significantly more out of him than he usually revealed.

She followed his big body with her eyes. David Hammar was so much more than his scar-covered back. His arms swelled, and his shoulders spread across her bed, and she knew she would really like to have him here more often, much more often. She ran a hand over his back, felt him inhale, slid her palm downward, smiled at how his firm buttocks tensed under her fingers. She cupped her hand, heard him gasp for breath before she continued down over his hips and thighs. He moaned, and that deep sound spoke directly to her body. If David had gone to her school, she—and all the other girls, Natalia just
knew
—would have been crazy for him. And for the moment he was hers.