He had stopped at the top of the stairs and was staring back down, as though considering his next step, his next sentence. Finally he turned to face her.
‘I do like being in control...having a focus—but it’s more than that. It’s about creating something that matters beyond just making me rich.’ His gaze fixed on her face. ‘I want my brand, my name—George’s name now—to be indelible.’
And he was prepared to work relentlessly to reach his goal, Teddie thought miserably. Even when he was just talking about it, she could see the fire in his eyes, the relentlessness and determination to succeed, and her stomach clenched. How could she or George compete with that?
As though reading her thoughts, he shook his head. ‘I know what you’re thinking. And you’re right. Work was too important to me—more than it should have been. But only because I let it be. I can change. I’m already changing.’
He took a step forward and his fingers brushed against hers lightly, then he caught her hand in his.
‘We both are. Look at us talking.’
His hand tightened around hers and he sounded so vehement that she found herself smiling.
It was true. Last time he had stonewalled her, and she had run away rather than face their problems, but here they were discussing things. Only...
‘Aristo, I’m glad we’re talking, but...’ She hesitated. ‘I’m not sure that’s enough for us to find a way back to how we used to be.’
‘Good.’ He pulled her against him so that suddenly their eyes were level. ‘Because I don’t want what we had before. What we had before needed improving. This time you and George are going to be my top priority.’
Her heart was beating too fast; she couldn’t keep up with him. Or with the rush of longing that was racing through her blood. ‘Did everything about us need improving?’
His dark gaze rested on her face. ‘No, I can think of one thing at least that was utterly incomparable,’ he said softly. ‘But if you don’t believe me then maybe I could remind you.’
His words rippled over her skin like the softest caress. He looked so handsome, so certain. She could feel the smooth tension of his hard body next to hers, and his eyes were darker than the night sky. She knew she should disentangle herself, but instead she reached up and touched his face.
She heard him breathe out softly, and the sound made something inside her chest crack apart like ice breaking. She wanted him so badly that she felt she might catch fire. So why was she fighting it? Fighting herself? What point was she really proving to Aristo, or herself, by denying the attraction between them?
They already had a bond through George. Nothing could be more permanent and binding than a child, and she had managed to come to terms with that by setting boundaries.
So stop making everything way more complicated than it needs to be, she told herself. Than you want it to be.
His hand was firm against her waist, his eyes steady on her face, and she could feel his longing, sense the power beneath his skin. But she knew that he was holding himself back, waiting for permission.
She ran her finger along the line of his jaw and tilted his head down so that their mouths were almost touching. ‘I don’t need reminding,’ she whispered.
His mouth brushed against hers, barely touching, teasing her, and his hand slid up to cup her breast, his fingertips grazing her nipple. Feeling the swell of blood beneath her skin, she breathed in sharply, leaning into him, and then, taking his other hand, she led him slowly towards his bedroom.
They were just over the threshold when he pulled back, then stopped, his eyes narrowed, his face taut with concentration.
‘Is this what you want, Teddie?’ he said hoarsely. ‘Me...this?’
She stared at him in silence, her body throbbing. Maybe it was just the island working its magic on her, subtly, irresistibly, but it—he—was what she wanted.
‘Yes.’
In one swift movement he pushed the door shut and, leaning forward, kissed her fiercely, his hand sliding up beneath her hair to cup her head, his kisses spilling like warm liquid over her mouth and throat and breast.
The touch of his warm mouth was making everything tingle and tighten, so that she could hardly bear it. She moaned softly and then her body started to shake and she began pulling at his clothes, her hands clumsy with desire.
Sucking in a breath, he lifted his mouth and, stepping back, peeled off his shirt, reached for his shorts.
‘No, wait, let me,’ she said hoarsely.
His eyes narrowed in protest, but as she reached out and ran her fingertips over the muscles of his stomach he stayed still. Gently, she caressed his smooth skin, following the path of dark hair down to his waistband, then lower still. As she traced the thickness of his erection, feeling it twitch and swell and harden beneath his shorts, she heard him groan and felt his hand lock in her hair.
Slowly, carefully, she undid the cord around his waist and pulled him free. Heart thudding, she stared at him in silence, her mouth dry, her breath quickening.
‘My turn now,’ he said softly.
His fingers were light but firm. Unbuttoning her dress, he let it slip to the floor and breathed in sharply. She was wearing no bra, just a pair of the palest peach panties, and her body was flecked with sand. He stared at her, spellbound, and then, taking her hand, he led her into the bathroom and pulled her into the shower.
As his hands spread over her ribs, Teddie closed her eyes. Warm water was trickling over her skin and her belly was tight and hot and aching. She curled her hands into his wet hair, reaching out for his hard, muscular body, trying to shake some of the dizziness in her head. She wanted him so much, wanted the ache inside her to be satisfied, and helplessly she arched up against him, pressing, pulling, pleading with her fingers...
But as he lowered his mouth and sucked fiercely on her nipples she gasped, stepping unsteadily back against the wall of the shower.
Aristo stilled, the soft sound bringing him to his senses. Closing his mind against the heavy, insistent beat of hunger in his groin, he lifted his head. ‘Are you protected?’
She stared at him dazedly, then shook her head.
Groaning, he backed out of the shower, his heart pounding. When he returned she had stripped off her panties and his body stiffened in instant response. Gritting his teeth, he rolled the condom on and then kissed her again, parting her lips, plundering her mouth with his tongue. His hands were roaming over her belly and between her thighs and, feeling her move against his fingers, he was suddenly struggling to breathe.
Teddie moaned softly. Her body was aching now and, reaching out, her hand found his erection. Hardly breathing, she slid her fingers over the rigid, pulsing length, pulling him closer, opening her legs. She heard him breathe in raggedly and then he was lifting her up, bracing himself against the wall. Shifting against him, panting, she guided him inch by inch into her trembling body to where a ball of heat was starting to implode.
Flattening himself against her, Aristo began to thrust, out of sync at first, then in time to the pulse beating in his head. His mouth found hers and he felt her respond, deepening the kiss. His heartbeat was accelerating and, closing his eyes, he felt his body start to cut loose from its moorings. Teddie arched upwards, her hands gripping his shoulders, nails cutting into the muscle. He felt her tense, heard her cry out, and then his body shuddered and he erupted into her.
CHAPTER SEVEN
IT WAS EARLY when Teddie woke up. She wasn’t sure what time it was, but as she opened her eyes she could tell from the pale wash of light spreading through the room that dawn was not far away.
She blinked. They must have forgotten to close the shutters—but then they’d had no thought for anything except each other. Her face grew hot as she remembered how Aristo had stripped her naked, his hands smooth against her skin, smooth and hard and urgent.
How she had neede
d his touch, craved the frenzy of release that he alone had given her. And she had wanted to touch him too, splaying her fingers over his body, pressing her thumbs into the muscles of his shoulders and down his back, her hands shaking with eagerness.
Glancing over at Aristo, she felt her breath still in her throat. He was deeply asleep, his long dark lashes grazing his cheekbones, one arm loosely curling over the pillow. She loved how smooth his skin was—and his smell: salt and sunlight and some kind of citrus. She lay for a moment, trying to hear his heartbeat in the silence, feeling the gravitational pull of his body.
And she would have carried on lying there, except that her mouth felt dry, and there was a sharp ache beneath her ribs, like thirst only more intense. Pushing back the sheet carefully, so as not to wake him, she slid out of bed.
Tiptoeing into the bathroom, she turned on the tap and, grabbing her hair to one side, held her mouth open beneath the running water. It tasted good and she swallowed greedily, and then, standing up, she caught a glimpse of her reflection in the mirror.
She stilled. She had been fighting herself for days now, and giving in to her desire had felt like such a big step, with such serious, far-reaching consequences, that she had expected to see a sign. But then when it had finally happened she had never felt more certain of anything—except when she’d found out she was pregnant and had decided to keep the baby.
Some things were just meant to be, and leading him into his bedroom had given her a peace that came from being part of something greater and beyond her control.
And now? How did she feel now?
She searched anxiously inside herself for feelings of regret—but how could she regret what had happened last night? He’d felt so right against her, their bodies seamless against one another, and even now the memory of his touch made her head swim. It had been wonderful, incredible... The corners of her mouth turned up and she realised she was grinning stupidly at herself in the mirror. Magical!
And it wasn’t just the sex. She’d been there before, tumbling into bed with Aristo after that meeting with their lawyers, but then it had felt so different—off-key, every word a misstep, their bodies desperately seeking a way to resolve what they hadn’t even tried to address.
Only, now they’d talked—really talked—and there had been no desperation, just a sense of irrefutable rightness.
So, no, she didn’t regret any of it—but nor, she realised, had the ache in her chest subsided. It wasn’t water she wanted.
Back in the bedroom, she slipped under the sheets and felt him shift beside her. Gazing down, she saw that his eyes were open, and then his hand was sliding over her stomach and her body rippled into life and she reached for him urgently.
* * *
An ivory-coloured light greeted Aristo when he blinked his eyes open several hours later. For a few moments he lay on his back, watching the white muslin curtain flutter weakly in the barely there breeze, and then slowly he stretched out his arms above his head.
For days now, ever since he’d walked into the Kildare lounge and spotted Teddie, his body had been on edge, vibrating with the muscle memory of what it had been like to hold his ex-wife in his arms, to feel her body arching beneath his and hear her soft gasp of climax.
Last night had transformed memory into reality, and now, lying among the warm mussed-up bedding, breathing in the scent of her skin, his body was already craving her again.
Unsurprisingly.
Right from the moment she’d reached for him he’d been enslaved. And not just by her beauty or the way her body had melted into his. She’d taken the heaviness from his heart, made the blood run more lightly in his veins, and he’d never met anyone like her before or since.
Despite the undeniable attraction between them, Teddie had been keeping him at arm’s length. Until last night, when she had led him to his bedroom and he had felt like an exile returning to the promised land.
He breathed out once, then got up swiftly and walked into the bathroom. Stepping under the shower, he closed his eyes, tipping his head back under the warm water, and instantly he felt his body harden, his brain dazzled by the memory of Teddie naked, sliding down his body, cupping him in her mouth—
His eyes snapped open and he punched off the water. It still didn’t feel real: to be able to touch her again, to have her consent to kiss and caress her freely, to stretch out her body beneath his.
But it had happened.
And the relief was unimaginable—as intoxicating and potent as wine. And even more potent was the knowledge that she had felt the same way too. Even if she hadn’t stated her desire out loud, he’d have felt the urgency in her, felt a need as explicit and unequivocal as his own, and the tautness of her nipples and the slick heat between her thighs had been answer enough.
And holding her whilst she slept... He had liked it that she had curled against him, had enjoyed almost against his will the possessive feeling it had provoked, even though it was the kind of primitive he-man response he would normally despise.
But it was daunting, knowing how easy it would be to lose himself in Teddie. Look at how he was feeling now. Already he could feel the previously insurmountable barriers around his heart starting to crack apart, like pack ice feeling a spring sun.
Only, that wasn’t going to happen.
Not this time.
Yes, he wanted Teddie back in his bed full-time. But now, knowing now what he did about her childhood, he knew what was required to make her stay there—she needed stability and certainty, something vast and unshakable, and with his business about to go public he was in a position to give her and George what they deserved.
Because last night hadn’t been just about sex.
A muscle flickered in his jaw. It had been about momentum and, just like in business, once you had momentum that was the time to push on to the next step.
In Teddie’s case that meant convincing her to marry him.
Outside, he heard George’s voice and Teddie’s reply. Instantly his skin was prickling, his heart bumping against his ribs as he walked out of his bedroom, down the stairs and into the brilliant sunshine.
Teddie was leaning forward, laying the table, her dark hair swinging loosely across her shoulders, and in her pale pink sleeveless blouse and sawn-off denim shorts she looked like a very sexy castaway. Beside her, George was eating a bowl of yoghurt.
‘Daddy—Daddy, we’re having...we’re having...’ Looking up from his breakfast, George hesitated, a small frown of concentration creasing his forehead. ‘What are we having, Mommy?’
Glancing over to where Aristo was standing behind her son, Teddie felt her heart start to beat unevenly.
Waking for the second time, she had found it agonisingly hard to leave the lambent warmth of Aristo’s body. But she’d had no choice. Like most young children, George woke early and, although he’d been sleeping in longer since they’d arrived on the island, she hadn’t wanted to risk him waking up and discovering her bed empty.
Her pulse fluttered forward like a startled deer.
Or, worse, waking up and finding her in Aristo’s room.
Daylight hadn’t changed her mind. But although she was willing—eager, in fact—to share his bed, she had no illusions. Sublime sex hadn’t been enough to save their marriage four years ago, and it was not enough to rebuild their relationship now.
That didn’t mean that she regretted what had happened. On the contrary, she knew it would happen again and she wanted it to—because she wanted him: the one, the only man whose touch left her begging for release.
Especially here, on this beautiful island paradise. Here they were far away from the demands of real life, and it was easy to live in the moment and not think further. And when it ended, as it undoubtedly would, when they returned to New York, she would move on with her life.
So why expose George to this sudden temporary change to he
r sleeping arrangements? He was three years old. Plus, he’d only just found out that Aristo was his father and, although he’d taken it very well, she understood enough about children—and her son in particular—to know that it was a huge, permanent tectonic change to his life.
Besides, he had no understanding of sex, let alone the complex dynamics of his parents’ relationship, so how could she hope to explain that she and his father hadn’t loved each other enough to make their marriage work, but the sexual charge between them was too powerful to resist?
The thought of trying to do so made her brain feel as though it was being pressed in a vice.
She cleared her throat. ‘Pites—I think that’s what Melina said they’re called.’ She forced herself to look at Aristo.
He nodded. ‘You mean the little pies?’ Reaching down, he ruffled George’s hair. ‘They used to be my favourite when I was your age. They’re delicious.’
George twisted round to look at Teddie. ‘I want to have them now, Mommy.’
He tugged at her hand and she let him pull her from her chair. ‘Well, I don’t know if they’re ready...’
‘Can I go and ask Melina? Can I?’
Her arm tightened around her son but, resisting the urge to draw him against her leg like a shield, she nodded. ‘Don’t run—and don’t forget to say please,’ she called after him.
There was a small sea breeze shimmying across the terrace and she tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear. She knew she should say something, only she couldn’t think of a single word.
As Aristo took a step closer she felt a rush of panic. What if he tried to kiss her and George saw?
Edging behind the table, she gave him what she hoped was a casual smile. ‘Did your mother make them?’
‘Make what?’
He stared at her in a way that made her muscles tense. Not quite hostile, but wary. Her smile stiffened, her heartbeat suddenly swift-moving, erratic.
‘The pies?’ she prompted. ‘You said they were your favourite when you were George’s age. I thought your mother...’ Her voice faded. His expression hadn’t altered outwardly, but there was a slight tension in his manner that hadn’t been there before.
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