The Helen Bianchin Collection
Page 132
After sipping half a flute of champagne she felt more at ease, but she was supremely conscious of Aleksi’s solicitous attention, the accidental brush of his fingers against her own, and the acute sensation that he was instigating a deliberate seduction.
Consequently it was a relief when Alexandros asked if she’d care to join him on the dance floor.
Alyse spared Rachel an enquiring smile. ‘Do you mind?’
‘Of course not, my dear.’ Rachel’s features assumed a faintly mischievous expression. ‘Aleksi and I will join you.’
Alexandros, as Aleksi’s father insisted she call him, was every bit as commanding as his indomitable son, Alyse decided as she rose graciously from the table and allowed him to lead her on to the restaurant’s small dance floor. There was the same vital, almost electric energy apparent, an awareness of male sensuality that had little to do with chronological age. Alexandros Stefanos was charming: polite, deferential, and genuine. The sort of man a woman could entrust with her life.
‘You’re light on your feet, like a feather,’ he complimented her. ‘So graceful.’
‘You’re an accomplished partner,’ she returned with a faint smile.
‘And you’re very kind.’
Am I? she thought silently. I’m not at all kindly disposed towards your son. Out loud, she said, ‘I hope you and Rachel are enjoying your holiday.’
‘My dear, how can I explain the joy among the grief in discovering that Georgiou had fathered a son? He’s very much loved, that child, his existence so precious to us all.’
Alyse couldn’t think of a single thing to say, and she circled the floor in silence, hardly aware of the music or their fellow dancers on the floor.
‘Shall we change partners?’ a deep voice drawled from close by, and she missed her step, distinctly ill at ease that she was about to be relinquished into the waiting arms of her husband.
Aleksi’s hold was far from conventional, and she wanted to scream with vexation.
‘Must you?’ she hissed, totally enraged at the proprietorial possessiveness of his grasp. She was all too aware of a subjugation so infinite, it was impossible not to feel afraid.
‘Dance with my wife?’
His resort to mockery was deliberate, and momentarily defeated in the knowledge that self-assertion would only cause a scene, Alyse tilted her head and gave him a brilliant smile.
‘This is dancing, Aleksi? You can’t begin to know how much I’d like to slap your face!’
One eyebrow slanted in cynical amusement. ‘Good heavens, whatever will you do when we make love? Kill me?’
‘I’ll have a darned good try!’
His eyes darkened with ill-concealed humour. ‘Yes, I do believe you will.’
There was no doubt he’d enjoy the fight, and its aftermath, while instinctive self-preservation warned that if she dared submit she would never be the same again.
The music playing was one of those incredibly poignant songs that stirred at the heartstrings, with lyrics of such depth that just hearing them almost brought tears to her eyes.
You’re mad, she told herself shakily. You hate him, remember? The strain of the past few days; meeting Georg’s grandparents. It was all too much.
A slight shiver feathered its way across the surface of her skin. Any kind of emotional involvement was a luxury she couldn’t afford if she were to instigate a divorce and return to Perth with Georg.
‘I’d like to go back to our table.’ The words came out as a slightly desperate plea, and she strained away from him in her anxiety to escape the intimacy of his hold.
‘The band will take a break soon. Besides, my parents are still dancing. We should return together, don’t you think?’ His voice sounded mild close to her ear, and she felt his breath stir at her temple, teasing a few tendrils of hair.
‘I have the beginnings of a headache,’ she improvised, and felt immeasurably relieved as he led her to the edge of the dance floor, his gaze sharp and far too discerning for her peace of mind.
‘Fact, or fiction?’
Her eyes blazed a brilliant blue. ‘Does it really matter?’ Angry beyond belief, she turned and moved quickly away from him.
On reaching the brightly lit powder-room she crossed to an empty space in front of the long mirror and pretended interest in her features.
She was far too pale, she decided in analytical appraisal, and her eyes bore a vaguely haunted look, reflecting an inner tension that was akin to a vulnerable animal confronted by a hunting predator.
A tiny bubble of derisive laughter rose and died in her throat at her illogical parallel. Dear lord, she’d have to get a hold on herself. Imaginative flights of fancy were of no help whatsoever in her resolve against Aleksi Stefanos.
The invention of a headache wasn’t entirely an untruth, for a persistent niggle began to manifest itself behind one eye, and she attributed its cause directly to her husband.
Aware that her escape could only be a temporary respite, she resolutely withdrew a lipstick from her evening purse and tidied her hair to its smooth bell-like style before returning to their table.
‘My dear, are you all right?’ Rachel asked the moment Alyse was seated, and she countered the force of three pairs of apparently concerned eyes with a reassuring smile.
‘Yes, thank you.’
‘You’re very pale. Are you sure?’
Obviously she wasn’t succeeding very well in the acting stakes! ‘Georg still wakes through the night,’ she explained lightly, ‘and is often difficult to settle.’
‘Georgiou was the same at a similar age—an angel by day, yet restless at night.’ Rachel offered a conciliatory smile. ‘It will soon pass.’
‘Meanwhile it’s proving quite disruptive to our sleep,’ drawled Aleksi, shooting Alyse a particularly intimate glance.
Damn him, had he no shame? she fumed, forced into silence out of deference to his parents’ presence.
‘Tell me about the party you’ve both planned,’ Rachel began, in what Alyse decided was a sympathetic attempt to change the subject.
‘A delayed wedding reception,’ Aleksi elaborated with bland disregard for her barely contained surprise. ‘Providing an opportunity for family and friends to share the celebration of our marriage.’
Alyse felt her stomach execute a few painful somersaults. How dared he propose something so ludicrous? It was only compounding a mockery, and she wanted no part in it.
‘What a wonderful idea!’ his stepmother enthused, while Alyse sought to dampen an increasing sense of anger for what remained of the evening.
In the car she sat tensely on edge as Aleksi brought the luxurious vehicle to a smooth halt in the wide bricked apron at the entrance to the tall apartment block.
‘Will you join us for coffee?’ asked Rachel, and Alyse held her breath as Aleksi issued a reluctant refusal.
‘It’s quite late, and we’re both anxious to get home.’ His smile appeared genuinely warm. ‘The babysitter is extremely capable, but it’s the first time we’ve left Georg in her care.’
That was true enough, although it was unlikely that there had been any problems, and Alyse managed to smile as they bade each other goodnight, issuing a spontaneous invitation for the older woman to join her the next day.
However, the instant the car cleared the driveway Alyse burst into angry pent-up speech.
‘You are impossible!’
‘Why, specifically?’ Aleksi countered cynically, and she was so incensed that if he hadn’t been driving she would have hit him.
Spreading one hand, she ticked off each consecutive grudge. ‘Deliberately implying that we share the same bed. And when you announced a party, I hardly imagined you’d expect me to give a repeat performance as a blushing bride.’
‘My dear Alyse, do you still blush?’
She cast him a furious glare. ‘I used the term in a purely figurative sense.’
‘Of course.’
‘Oh, don’t be so damned patronising!’
The sky was an inky black as it merged with the shallow waters of the inner harbour, providing a startling background for brightly lit venues along the famed tourist strip. Outlines were crisp and sharp, and a pinprick sprinkling of stars lent promise of another day of sunshine in a sub-tropical winterless climate.
Aleksi chose the waterfront road, and Alyse wondered darkly if he was deliberately giving her temper an opportunity to cool.
Georg hadn’t even murmured, Melanie reported, accepting the notes Aleksi placed in her hand before departing with a friendly smile.
‘I’ll check Georg,’ said Alyse hastily.
‘An excuse to escape, Alyse?’
‘No, damn you!’
His eyes gleamed with latent mockery. ‘I’ll make coffee. Liqueur and cream?’
Resentment flared as she turned to face him. ‘I’m going to bed—I’ve done my duty for the evening. Goodnight.’
There was a palpable pause. ‘You consider an evening spent with Rachel and my father a duty?’
Alyse closed her eyes, then opened them again. ‘They’re both utterly charming. Their son, however, is not.’
‘Indeed?’ His voice sounded like velvet-encased steel. ‘Perhaps you would care to clarify that?’
‘You act as if I’m your wife!’
One eyebrow rose in cynical query. ‘My dear Alyse, I have in my possession a marriage certificate stating clearly that you are.’
‘You know very well what I mean!’
‘Does it bother you that I accord you a measure of husbandly affection?’
‘Courteous attention I can accept,’ she acknowledged angrily. ‘But intimate contact is totally unnecessary.’
His smile was peculiarly lacking in humour. ‘I haven’t even begun with intimacy.’
Her hand flew in an upward arc, only to be caught in a bonecrushing grip that left her gasping with pain.
‘So eager to hit out, Alyse? Aren’t you in the least concerned what form of punishment I might care to mete out?’ he asked deliberately, pulling her inextricably close.
‘Do you specialise in wife-beating, Aleksi?’ she countered in defiance, and suffered momentary qualms at the anger beneath the surface of his control.
‘I prefer something infinitely more subtle,’ he drawled, and she retaliated without thought.
‘I hardly dare ask!’
‘Sheer bravado, or naïveté?’
‘Oh, both,’ she acknowledged, then gave a startled gasp as he slid an arm beneath her knees and lifted her into his arms. ‘What do you think you’re doing?’
The look he cast her cut right through to her soul. ‘Taking you to bed. Mine,’ he elaborated with icy intent.
Her eyes dilated with shock. ‘Don’t! Please,’ she added as a genuine plea to his sensitivity, rather than as an afterthought.
‘You sound almost afraid,’ he derided silkily.
Afraid I’ll never be the same again, Alyse qualified silently, hating the exigent sexual chemistry that drew her towards him like a moth to flame.
‘I hate you!’ she flung desperately as he carried her through the lounge, and she was absolutely incensed at the speculative amusement apparent in the depths of his eyes.
In the bedroom he let her slide to her feet, and she was powerless to do anything other than stand perfectly still beneath his dark penetrating gaze.
‘You react like an agitated kitten, all bristling fur and unsheathed claws.’ His smile was infinitely sensual, his eyes dark and slumbrous as he took her chin between thumb and forefinger to tilt it unmercifully high. ‘It will be worth the scratches you’ll undoubtedly inflict, just to hear you purr.’
‘Egotist,’ she accorded shakily. ‘What makes you think I will?’
He didn’t deign to answer, and there was nothing she could do to avoid his mouth as it took possession of hers in a deliberately sensual onslaught that plundered the very depths of her soul.
With shocking ease he dispensed with her clothes, then his own, and she gave an agonised gasp as he reached for the thin scrap of lace-edged satin covering her breasts.
‘Aleksi—’
‘Don’t?’ he taunted softly, releasing the clasp and letting the bra fall to the carpet.
It was impossible to come to terms with a mixture of elation and fear, so she didn’t even try, aware even as she voiced the protest that there could be no turning back. ‘You can’t mean to do this,’ she said in agonised despair.
His hands cupped the creamy fullness of her breasts with tactile expertise, and the breath locked in her throat when his head descended and his mouth closed over one vulnerable peak. Sensation spiralled from the central core of her being, radiating through her body until she was consumed by an emotion so fiery, so damnably erotic, that it was all she could do not to beg him to assuage the hunger within.
His tasting took on a new dimension as he began to suckle, using his teeth with such infinite delicacy that it frequently trod a fine edge between pleasure and pain.
Just when she thought she could bear it no more, he relinquished his possession and crossed to render a similar onslaught to its twin.
Unbidden, her fingers sought the thickness of his hair, raking its well-groomed length in barely controlled agitation that didn’t cease when he shifted his attention to her mouth and began subjecting that sensitive cavern to a seeking exploration that gradually became an imitation of the sexual act itself.
Alyse was floating high on a cloud of sensuality so evocative that it was all she could do not to beg him to ease the ache that centred between her thighs, and, as if he was aware of her need, his hand slid down to gently probe the sweet moistness dewing there.
Like a finely tuned instrument her body leapt in response, and she became mindless, an insignificant craft caught in a swirling vortex beyond which she had no control.
It wasn’t until she felt the soft mattress beneath her back that realisation forced its way through the mists of desire, and she could only stare, her eyes wide with slumbrous warmth, as Aleksi discarded his shirt, then his trousers and finally the dark hipster briefs that shielded his masculinity.
There was a potent beauty in his lean well-muscled frame, a virility that sent the blood coursing through her veins in fearful anticipation, and she unconsciously raised her gaze to his, silently pleading as he joined her on the bed.
Her lips parted tremulously as his eyes conducted a lingering appraisal of their softly swollen contours, before slipping down to the rose-tipped breasts that burgeoned beneath his gaze as if in silent recognition of his touch.
Her limbs seemed consumed by languorous inertia, and she made no protest as he began a light, trailing exploration of her waist, the soft indentation of her navel, then moved to the pale hair curling softly between her thighs.
A sharp intake of breath changed to shocked disbelief as his lips followed the path of his hand in a brazen degree of intimacy she found impossible to condone.
Liquid fire coursed through her body, arousing each separate sensory nerve-end until she moaned an entreaty for him to desist. Except that nothing she said made any difference, and in a desperate attempt to put an end to the havoc he was creating she sank her fingers into his hair and tugged—hard.
It had not the slightest effect, and her limbs threshed in violent rejection until he caught hold of her hands and pinned them to her sides, effectively using his elbows to still the wild movements of her legs.
For what seemed an age she lay helpless beneath his deliberate invasion, hating him with a fervour that was totally unmatched, until, shifting his body weight, he effected a deep penetrating thrust that brought an involuntary gasp from her lips as delicate tissues stretched, then filled with stinging pain.
She was so caught up with it she didn’t register the brief explicit curse that huske
d from Aleksi’s throat, and she tossed her head from side to side to escape his mouth before it settled over hers, gentle, coaxing, and inflexibly possessive as she strove to free herself.
Without thought she balled her hands into fists and hit out at him, striking anywhere she could, then she became impossibly angry when it had no effect whatsoever.
The only weapons she had left were her teeth and her nails, and she used both, shamelessly biting his tongue, at the same time raking her nails down his ribcage, achieving some satisfaction from his harsh intake of breath.
‘Witch,’ he growled, lifting his mouth fractionally, and she cried out in agonised rejection.
‘Bastard! I hate you, hate you, do you understand?’
His hands caught hers in a punishing grip and held them immobile above her head, and she began to struggle in earnest, fear lending her unknown strength as she fought to be free of him.
‘Stop it, little fool,’ he chastised, holding her with ease. ‘You’re only making it worse for yourself.’
Angry dark blue eyes speared his as she vented furiously, ‘Get away from me, damn you!’
‘Not yet.’
‘Haven’t you done enough?’ It was a tortured accusation dredged up from the depths of her soul, and yet it failed to have the desired effect. ‘Aleksi!’ She would have begged if she had to, and it didn’t help that he knew.
‘Be still, little wildcat,’ he soothed, easily holding both her hands with one of his as he gently pushed stray tendrils of hair back behind her ear. Then his mouth brushed her temple, pressed each eyelid closed in turn, before trailing down to the edge of her lips. With a touch as light as a butterfly’s wing he teased their curved outline before slipping to the hollow at the base of her neck.
‘Please don’t.’
‘What a contrary plea!’ he murmured against her throat, and she could sense the smile in his voice. ‘Just relax, and trust me.’
‘Why should I?’ she cried in an impassioned entreaty, only wanting to be free of him.
‘The hurting is over, I promise.’
‘Then why won’t you leave me alone?’ Her eyes seared his, then became trapped beneath the latent sensuality, the sheer animal magnetism he exuded, and almost in primeval recognition an answering chord struck deep within, quivering into hesitant life.