The Secret Kept from the Greek

by Susan Stephens

  And then she did, and they did, and she was lost.

  * * *

  She was back.

  The rush of triumph inside him was like nothing he’d ever known—not for eleven years, at least. She was everything he remembered and more, and she came to him as if their years apart had disappeared. She pressed against him, responding fiercely as he kissed her. She was strong and sure, and every bit his match.

  Their tongues tangled as she clung to him, and when he eased her legs apart with his thigh she arced her body against his in the hunt for more contact. Cupping her buttocks with one hand, he unlaced the strings of her bikini with the other as they traded kisses hungrily.

  Glancing down nearly wrecked his control. He was painfully and hugely erect, while Lizzie was as sensitive as he remembered. He only had to stroke her lightly to hear her purr. He parted her lips and found the tiny bud. He teased and then pulled away, then teased some more as she clung to him, gasping out her pleasure.

  ‘Beneath me now,’ he instructed softly.

  There was no need to ask. Lizzie was way ahead of him.

  ‘Slowly,’ he advised as she bucked towards him.

  ‘Why?’ Her eyes challenged him.

  ‘Because it’s been a long time.’

  She raised an amused brow. ‘Like I don’t remember?’

  Neither of them could forget, it seemed. The memory of taking her, of sinking deep into Lizzie’s tight, moist heat, was seared on his brain for all time. Maximum control was essential as he prepared to rediscover the woman he had enjoyed like no other.

  He stroked and kissed and took his time. Lizzie was all hunger and need, and he had to slow her down. Teasing her, he cupped her between the legs, denying her the contact she wanted.

  He smiled as he watched her eyes darken. ‘I’ve got you now,’ he whispered.

  ‘You think?’ she whispered back.

  ‘Shall we put it to the test?’ he suggested, still teasing her with kisses.

  ‘This is your island, and this is your beach, so I guess you can do anything you like,’ she said, seeming pleased at this idea.

  ‘Do you want me to?’

  ‘What do you think I want you to do?’

  He smiled as she moved restlessly beneath him.

  Hearing foil rip, she lifted her hips, and she was so aroused that at his first intimate touch she was reaching greedily for release.

  This was the Lizzie he remembered from eleven years ago. This was the woman with whom he’d made love on every surface in his apartment—including pressed up against the floor-to-ceiling windows, where anyone who’d wanted to could have seen.

  ‘You’re right,’ he agreed. ‘We—you,’ he amended as he pinned her wrists above her head ‘—can do anything you want to do while you’re here.’

  ‘Including to you?’ she said. ‘Can I use you for my pleasure?’

  ‘I don’t see why not.’ He grinned. ‘But that would be for my pleasure too.’ Pressing her knees back, he moved between them. ‘Hold them for me.’

  ‘Like this? So I’m exposed...?’

  She sounded so excited.

  He told her yes.

  She did as he asked, and now her brown eyes were almost black, with just a rim of sepia around her pupils. She was right on the edge.

  ‘Don’t tease me,’ she warned.

  ‘Pleasure delayed is pleasure intensified,’ he taunted softly.

  ‘None of that rubbish now,’ she warned him.

  Taking hold of his arms, she arranged herself to her liking and shuddered out a soft cry when he gave her just the tip.

  ‘What?’ he murmured, sinking deeper.

  ‘You...this...’

  He rocked his hips forward and gave her a little more. He pulled out completely before sinking even deeper into her tight, warm grip. The pleasure was intense. It took everything he’d got to hold back so she could get used to the invasion. She was throbbing around him, insistently drawing him on. He only had to move the smallest fraction for her to wail and let go.

  Helpless in the grip of violent release, she bucked frantically back and forth, while he held her in place, making sure that she benefited from every last pulse of pleasure.

  ‘Worth the wait?’ he murmured when she quietened.

  She was still groaning rhythmically against his mouth as the pleasure pulses, having faded, continued. He started to move again and she immediately responded, moving with him, needing more.

  Making love to Lizzie was instantly familiar all over again. He knew exactly what she needed, and it gave him the greatest pleasure to give it to her. The only change he noted was that her appetite had grown.

  It was a long time later when he hauled her to her feet and they ran to cool down in the sea. He swung her into his arms both times, to avoid the shells, and when he carried her back to shore and they dressed she reminded him that they had to get back.

  ‘An appointment?’ he confirmed. ‘I remember. Sadly no time for the house today.’

  ‘Another time?’ she said.

  ‘Why not?’ he agreed.

  As they linked fingers to walk along the sand, to a soundtrack of rolling surf and seabirds calling, he wondered if he’d ever felt closer to anyone. Trust was a great thing, and he was glad he’d got Lizzie’s back.

  He was proud of her—not for that reason, but for the way she’d fought back after the trial. She’d barely spoken of it, but he knew she must have had a rough time. The spirit he remembered so well from eleven years back must have carried her through, and it was no wonder that Iannis and Stavros liked her so much, and Stavros had wanted her to come to the island.

  Rediscovering her Greek heritage would be good for Lizzie. There was nothing like a return to the homeland for restoring confidence and faith in the future.

  ‘Your new house is very beautiful,’ she said, glancing over her shoulder. You must be very proud of it?’

  ‘I am,’ he admitted, ‘especially as I had the pleasure of helping to build it.’

  ‘That must have been great,’ she agreed.

  He was pleased that she understood the pleasure he’d found in working with his hands. ‘It was,’ he confirmed.

  He glanced back too. Looking at his new place through Lizzie’s eyes gave him the same thrill that he’d felt when he’d first sat back to study his design on paper. He’d planned for the house to be in complete harmony with its surroundings, and he believed he’d succeeded.

  ‘It’s fabulous,’ Lizzie confirmed as they both paused to admire it.

  ‘I did have some help,’ he admitted dryly. But he felt the pleasure that only a man who’d selected each piece of stone from the quarry could feel. ‘Without the craftsmen I employed it would never have been built. I worked as their lowly assistant.’

  ‘That must have been a bit different for you,’ she said, ‘but from the look on your face I guess you enjoyed it?’

  ‘More than you know,’ he agreed.

  ‘Well, it was well worth the effort. You’ve created something really beautiful.’

  ‘You’re beautiful,’ he said, swinging her into his arms. ‘And one day I will bring you back here.’

  * * *

  Would he? Lizzie wondered. Would Damon want her within a hundred miles of him when he found out the truth about Thea?

  ‘Beautiful’ didn’t begin to describe his new home. It was a dream home. It was the type of home Lizzie wished she could give to Thea.

  And Thea’s father owned it.

  Her mouth dried when she compared Damon’s glorious beachside mansion to the one room she shared with Thea in London when Thea was home from school. How could she deny Thea this incredible lifestyle? Thea could have half a dozen music studios and no one would ever complain about the noise.

>   ‘You could paint here,’ Damon said.

  She swung around to stare at him in confusion for a moment. Her head was so full of Thea, as it always was, that she couldn’t switch track to herself.

  ‘You used to love painting,’ Damon prompted. ‘I remember you telling me.’

  ‘I did,’ she agreed. Incredibly, on that night eleven years ago, they had grown close enough to discuss lots of things, including pastimes and hopes and dreams. ‘You told me that work was your hobby,’ she remembered.

  ‘Correct,’ Damon confirmed. ‘And it still is.’

  ‘I didn’t have a clue what you meant by saying that back then,’ she admitted. ‘I’d only just left school and had no idea that the world could be so tough.’

  And the rest, she thought.

  And now you do? Damon’s look said.

  She didn’t deserve the compassion in his eyes. Damon had been forced to become even more work-obsessed after the trial, thanks to the damage done to his family’s business by her father. Damon had righted all those wrongs, but maybe life would have turned out differently for him if there’d been no fraud, no trial, and they had never met.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  DAMON SEEMED DETERMINED to reassure her. ‘It’s good to have you back,’ he commented as they walked on.

  And good to have you back, Lizzie thought, though she knew better than to expect it to be for ever.

  She lowered her gaze so Damon wouldn’t be able to see how she felt about him.

  ‘I was worried I’d lost you again,’ he admitted. ‘I’d keep seeing flashes of the old Lizzie, but then she’d slip away.’

  There was a good reason for that, Lizzie thought, hanging back. ‘You can’t recapture time, or make it stand still, Damon.’

  ‘But I can care that you were hurt,’ he argued firmly. ‘And I can care that I was partly responsible for causing that hurt. I can care that your father abandoned you, and your stepmother kicked you in the teeth when you had no one left to defend you—’

  ‘I didn’t need anyone to defend me. I was fine on my own—better, probably. I think we look at success differently, and I’m actually pleased with the way things have turned out.’

  ‘How can you be?’ he said frowning.

  Thea was always front and foremost in her mind, and that left her nothing to complain about. ‘When I once had such big dreams, do you mean? I see things differently now. I don’t owe any money. I’ve got a roof over my head and enough food to eat.’ And, more importantly, a daughter she adored, and Thea didn’t go without anything if Lizzie could help it. ‘You don’t need to feel sorry for me,’ she said with absolute certainty.

  ‘I don’t feel sorry for you. I admire you,’ Damon insisted.

  ‘Well, that sounds a little bit patronising.’

  He seemed surprised. ‘I apologise if you think that, because it’s the last thing I intended. I do admire you, and I think it’s great that you—’

  ‘Survived?’ she supplied edgily.

  ‘I think you’ve done more than that, haven’t you?’ he argued. ‘I was going to say that you’ve got great friends, and a life you enjoy, so nothing else should matter.’

  ‘I’m glad you see it that way.’ She was determined to move on to safer ground—which meant switching the spotlight to Damon. ‘And you’ve done very well for yourself too,’ she said dryly. ‘Understatement,’ she added with a grin.

  His lips pressed down as he shrugged. ‘I had a strong family behind me all the way. And I took over an existing business with an excellent reputation.’

  That Lizzie’s father had almost destroyed.

  ‘Stop,’ he warned, reading her. ‘No one, least of all me, blames you for your father’s crimes. The only thing that does puzzle me,’ he admitted, ‘is that you always had what it took to get ahead, but for some reason it hasn’t worked out for you as well as I expected. Obviously I’m curious to know why.’

  She brushed his remark aside with a casual gesture, though everything inside her had tightened in a knot. ‘I wouldn’t waste your time investigating me.’

  He huffed a laugh, but she didn’t kid herself that this was over. Damon’s interest in her life over the past eleven years had been well and truly stirred, and he wouldn’t let go now. Nothing would satisfy him but a full explanation.

  ‘In case you hadn’t noticed,’ he said in excuse, ‘you interest me. No one had ever taken me on as you did outside that courtroom. You were only just eighteen and, apart from your fair-weather friends, you were on your own. I was older, surrounded by family and a legal team, but nothing stopped you. There’s nothing wrong with asserting your rights and showing loyalty to your family—that’s something I really get. You were right to stand your ground—and right to rage at me. I was a bastard.’

  ‘You admit it?’ Amusement cut through her anxiety for a few moments. ‘Maybe there’s hope for you yet.’

  She should have known that Damon would take advantage of this lighter mood. He jumped straight on it.

  ‘So, are you going to tell me what happened to the promises you made to yourself about developing your painting and your cooking, and all those other dreams?’

  ‘What is it they say about promises?’ she countered. ‘Aren’t they like pie crusts, made to be broken?’

  Damon’s gaze sharpened on her face. ‘If there’s one thing I won’t believe it’s that you gave up your dreams easily. There must be something big you’re not telling me.’

  ‘There is,’ she agreed. ‘It’s called life.’

  He looked at her sceptically.

  ‘Life moves on, Damon, and we have to move with it.’

  Eleven years of fighting, with her only goal being to make a good life for Thea. Her goal remained the same today, and it didn’t allow for dreams.

  ‘That’s enough,’ he declared, swinging her into his arms. ‘I won’t send you back with a frown on your face.

  She laughed. It was such a relief to escape the dangerous topic.

  Damon carried her across the shells to the sea so they could swim back to the boat. She exhaled raggedly when he set her down at the water’s edge and his hands skimmed her breasts. She stared into his eyes, wondering if it was wrong to feel this happy, and if she’d be made to pay. If happiness was an indulgence she didn’t deserve she was going to be in debt for the rest of her life, because she was drowning in the stuff.

  She sucked in a breath as Damon’s hands touched her breasts. ‘Your breasts are fuller than I remember. And your nipples are a deeper, rosier pink—’

  Pregnancy, she thought, immediately tensing. She was right not to count on happiness lasting. It hadn’t even made it back to the boat.

  ‘I’m older,’ she dismissed with a shrug.

  He huffed a laugh. ‘So old,’ he agreed dryly, adding, ‘You never could take a compliment, could you, Lizzie?’

  As Damon stared into her eyes, as if searching for the truth he knew she was hiding, she grew increasingly anxious. ‘What time is it?’ she asked, worrying about Thea, worrying about Damon, worrying about everything...

  * * *

  ‘Time enough,’ he soothed, running his fingertips down her cheek to her lips. ‘We’ll be back before two. We can see the house another time. I blame you for being so irresistible.’

  As he took Lizzie’s face between his hands he felt her tremble. His fingers ploughed into her hair, his thumbs caressed her jawbone just below her ears, but she couldn’t be soothed and when he kissed her he felt tears on her face.

  He blamed himself. He’d been so busy driving forward after the trial, trying to make everything right again for his father, that he hadn’t spared a thought for Lizzie, and now he could only imagine what she’d been through.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ he whispered as her shoulders shook beneath his han
ds. ‘This is my fault. The way I treated you was—’

  ‘No. Please don’t say that,’ she argued fiercely. ‘You’re a good man, Damon. If your father hadn’t spoken up mine would have destroyed even more people. I didn’t want to see his faults then, but I can see them now.’

  ‘We should get back,’ he murmured.

  ‘Yes,’ she said, staring into his eyes.

  * * *

  Damon’s kisses were drugging reminders of a time she would never forget. His body pressed against hers was a reminder her of how safe she felt in his arms. Fate was cruel—acting as if they were meant to be together, meant to have had Thea, meant to meet again in Stavros’s restaurant and here on the island. Fate was taunting them, she suspected.

  Damon pulled away first and glanced out to sea at the powerboat in a silent signal that their idyll was over. They both had to return to their lives and to reality, and to all the problems that lay ahead of them.

  Lifting her chin, she said, ‘I’m ready if you are.’

  The first thing she did when they were back on the powerboat was check the clock, to make sure she would be in good time to catch the local bus to Thea’s concert. She felt embarrassed when Damon caught her looking, and wondered if he thought she was trying to hurry the time away.

  ‘Thank you,’ she said softly.

  He made a sound of acknowledgement, but there was plenty to do as he prepared the powerboat for leaving, and no more time for conversation. Not that there was anything left to say—not before she’d spoken to Thea.

  * * *

  He was frustrated by Lizzie’s reluctance to admit that there was something troubling her. She trusted him enough to have sex with him, but not enough to allow him to help her. What could be that bad?

  After eleven years he would have been more surprised if they didn’t have things to tell each other, but if it was another man, and that was why she couldn’t say anything, then she was no better than her father. He refused to believe that of her.

  He should have asked her straight out—would have done if they had devoted more time to talking and less time to sex. He might expect the Greek community to close around her, but why hadn’t Stavros said something? Why hadn’t Iannis? Didn’t they trust him either?