The Innocent's Shameful Secret

by Sara Craven

  She gave him a wary look. ‘I suppose—about six. And I intend to pay for my calls before I leave,’ she added defensively.

  ‘That will not be necessary.’ His tone permitted no argument. ‘But all these calls, I think, have been to your aunt’s house. None of them to your man.’

  Damnation, she thought, biting her lip. Why had she ever thought it was a good idea to invent him?

  She said stiffly, ‘I think that’s my business.’

  ‘Even so, how will he regard so long a silence?’

  She lifted her chin. ‘He’ll understand.’

  ‘Understand?’ Alexis repeated incredulously. ‘In his shoes, I would have been here before a week had passed, searching the island for you.’

  ‘I told you—he’s busy.’

  ‘So busy that he can forget the smoothness of your skin, the scent of your hair, the sweetness of your mouth?’

  She gasped, feeling a rush of hot colour suffuse her face.

  ‘You—you have no right to say such things,’ she accused breathlessly.

  ‘I have every right.’ He spoke with quiet intensity as he took the bottle from her hand, replacing its cap and setting it to one side. ‘Because I, may God help me, have forgotten nothing. And I never can.’

  Her mind was suddenly in freefall. He did not seem to have moved, yet the space between them had somehow dwindled to nothing.

  And, equally somehow, he’d recaptured her hand, brushing its palm gently with his lips, his teeth grazing the soft mound at the base of her thumb, sending little tremors shimmering through her nerve endings.

  She closed her eyes, shutting out the image of his dark head bent so near her own.

  She thought, Oh, God, I have to stop this. Now...

  But the heavy beat of the sun against her eyelids was already echoing in the thud of her pulses, as if telling her over and over again ‘too late—too late.’

  And then he was raising her hand, placing it on his shoulder and she could quite easily have snatched it back, but instead found her fingers tracing bone and muscle, then curling into the warmth of his skin beneath the crisp cotton shirt as his arms went round her drawing her to him.

  His hands slipped under her top, and as he stroked her bare back, following the path of her spine up to the delicate wings of her shoulder blades, she found her body involuntarily arching towards him, her lips parting in a tiny gasp of remembered delight at his touch.

  In the next instant, his mouth sought and took hers, probing its inner sweetness, teasing her with the glide of his tongue against hers, while his hands slid deftly round her body, cupping her untrammelled breasts, strumming her hardening nipples with his thumbs until they burned and ached with a pleasure that was almost pain.

  She moaned softly into his mouth, melting into his kiss, sharing its ardour, answering its demand and basking in its moisture as her tongue tangled with his in enthralled exploration. Her body was straining against his as if seeking to be absorbed into its heat—its strength. Her reeling mind, dismissing the shyness and reticence that until then had been her safeguard, was telling her that this was what she’d been born for.

  This hour. This place. This man.

  When at last he raised his head, his dark eyes looked blurred, almost dazed. He said unsteadily, his voice hoarse with yearning, ‘Do you know how lovely you are, Selene mou? How badly I need to look at you—to know how beautiful you truly are.’

  She stared back at him, her eyes widening as she realised what he was asking. And, for a moment, she was assailed by doubt, wondering how she would endure it if the next time their eyes met, she saw disappointment.

  ‘Se thelo poli, agapi mou.’ His words were a whispered caress, turning any remaining fear to hunger. ‘I want you so very much, my darling. Let me know that you want me, too.’

  Selena sat up slowly. She put her hand against his face, running her fingers along his cheekbone then down to the strong line of his jaw, savouring the faint roughness of his skin.

  Taking a deep breath, she pulled her vest top over her head and tossed it aside, then lay back on the rug, smiling up at him.

  She saw a muscle move in his taut throat, then he bent to her, taking one rounded breast and then the other in his lips and suckling them gently, his tongue flicking the tumescent nipples with sensuous precision.

  And she heard herself cry out huskily in a voice she hardly recognised. A voice that expressed a longing as deep and as urgent as his own.

  ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘Yes, matia mou. I promise.’

  He began to unbutton her skirt, beginning at its hem, then moving slowly, even carefully, up to the waist band, before peeling the edges apart, as if unveiling some infinitely precious work of art, leaving her with only a last few inches of lace-trimmed fabric to cover her.

  Letting her see the glow in his gaze, and the tenderness and pleasure that curved his firm mouth as he studied her.

  As he started to touch her again.

  His fingers were almost miraculously gentle, feathering across her shoulders and stroking the soft underside of her arms before returning to her breasts, his lips following the path of his hands over every curve and hollow. Moving downwards with tantalising languor, smoothing the flatness of her stomach, and toying with the inner whorls of her navel. Outlining the graceful jut of her hip bones, then sliding a hand under the rim of her briefs and easing them off, stripping her deftly and completely.

  She heard him draw a deep sighing breath as he looked down at her, his hands gliding the length of her body from throat to instep, and then back to her slender thighs, stroking them, coaxing them apart as if he knew that the soft trembling of her flesh was prompted as much by shyness as excitement.

  ‘Trust me, agapi mou.’ The whispered words were raw. ‘Let me learn to please you a little.’

  His hand moved, exploring the delicate folds of her womanhood to find the tiny aching mound they concealed and caress it slowly with his fingertips.

  His touch still gentle, but also wickedly sure. Banishing any lingering doubts and leading her instead to acceptance. And, unhurriedly, to the sensual tumult of physical arousal.

  The time for resistance, if it had ever been a possibility, was long gone.

  Selena lay, eyes half-closed in surrender, every thought, every nerve ending concentrated almost painfully on her body’s astonished response to every new, delicious sensation.

  Hearing the tiny moan she was unable to control as his subtle, all too knowing fingers pushed lightly into the silken, soaking heat of her, pausing, waiting, perhaps for some sign of discomfort, before penetrating her more deeply. Offering her a sweetly piercing foretaste of her future initiation.

  She moved restlessly against the thrust of his fingers, instinct telling her that she wanted the future to become the present. That she needed to feel his skin naked against hers. To know the stark male hardness of him sheathed inside her and possess him in turn. And found herself reaching for him, fumbling with the fastening at the waistband of his chinos.

  ‘Ah, no, matia mou.’ His voice ragged, Alexis captured her wrists, placing her hands at her sides. Holding them there. ‘This is for you, my sweet one. Only for you.’

  And bent to her again. Only, this time, using his mouth, his tongue brushing like gossamer against her burning tumescent urgency. Circling it, flickering on it fiercely—exquisitely.

  Making her writhe and quiver in helpless almost shocked abandonment at this ultimate intimacy, and, at the same time, becoming aware of some strange knot of tension tightening deeply, inexorably inside her, taking her to the very edge of endurance.

  Her voice pleading, breaking, she cried out something that might have been his name, then the knot snapped and she was free, flung wildly into a tumbling, throbbing chaos where the sharp, sweet, clenching spasms of pleasure were hardly distinguishable from pain.

  Held there, then slowly released, the tremors dying away leaving her body and its senses calmed and at peace as she floated back to the reality
of Alexis’s arms holding her close and his voice murmuring softly, tenderly in his own language. Plus the additional discovery that she was looking at him through a blur of tears.

  Shaken by all kinds of embarrassment, Selena sat up, scrubbing at her eyes like a child while she tried desperately to think how to react, silently cursing the lack of sophistication that might have carried her through this awkwardness. And eventually decided only the truth would do.

  She swallowed. ‘I—I don’t know what to say.’

  He said quietly, almost ruefully, ‘I think I, too, am a little lost for words, Selene mou.’

  She bit her lip. ‘However, I think I should get dressed—unless you...’ She stumbled a little. ‘Unless, of course, you want...’

  He reached for her clothes and handed them to her.

  ‘As I told you, agapi mou. This was for you alone.’ He smiled at her, adding softly, ‘I can wait.’

  He got to his feet and walked away towards the temple, waiting, his back turned, while Selena huddled on her garments. For which, she realised, she was grateful. Absurdly so in view of what he had just seen and done. But now, in the aftermath, she felt distinctly self-conscious. And uncertain. Also uncomfortable as her clothing seemed to rasp against her still sensitised skin.

  At last, she said, ‘I’m ready.’ And when he remained where he was, staring silently ahead of him, she repeated the words more loudly.

  He turned back instantly, smiling again but this time with an obvious effort. ‘My apologies, Selene mou.

  ‘Once again, I was thinking.’

  Thinking, she wondered, or regretting?

  And this question continued to occupy her own thoughts all the way back to the villa.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  SHE MUST, SELENA THOUGHT, have taken leave of her senses. Although it might be fairer to say she’d been robbed of them. Or seduced out of them.

  Except, her common sense told her it had not been a conventional seduction by any means. In fact, she wasn’t really sure how to describe it—or justify the long, sweet shiver that ran through her as she remembered.

  But what should she make of the subsequent silent journey back to the villa?

  Thankfully, she was alone. Millie, absorbed in Kostas, probably hadn’t noticed her absence, so she had time to recover her equilibrium and come to terms with what had happened.

  Because, very soon, she would have to face Alexis again at dinner, without blushing, stammering or falling over her feet.

  And it seemed important that when they met, she should not be wearing the clothes he had so recently removed with such lingering skill.

  Do not, she adjured herself, pressing her hands to her burning cheeks, even go there. Stay sane.

  A change of clothing didn’t offer much choice. The blue tunic also held memories best forgotten. So she decided on her Capri pants and the nondescript white shirt, bought in her final school year.

  Also, she needed to do something with her hair. Leaving it loose would only remind her of his fingers twining it as he kissed her, and plaiting seemed too obvious, so she simply scooped it back, securing it at the nape of her neck with an elastic band.

  But her precautions, if that’s what they were, proved unnecessary because Alexis was not at dinner, having returned to the hotel, according to Millie, taking Kostas with him.

  Selena ate her meal on autopilot, her mind veering between blankness and bewilderment.

  It seemed, after all, that he’d just—walked away. That he’d just been playing some unkind game with her senses. Amusing himself by breaking down the inhibitions of this little English virgin who’d come blundering into his life.

  And who would waste no time about blundering right out again, she told herself, her throat tightening.

  ‘For God’s sake, Lena,’ Millie said impatiently. ‘Are you deaf or in a trance? I’ve asked you twice when you’re going back to England because I really need my birth certificate.’

  ‘Would tomorrow suit you?’

  ‘Well—fine.’ Millie gave her a surprised look. ‘I really hope Aunt Nora doesn’t give you a hard time,’ she offered awkwardly.

  Selena shrugged. ‘I expect by now she’s accepted the situation. Shall I send the paperwork here?’

  ‘No, to Kostas at the hotel.’ Millie paused. ‘I’m leaving, too, going to stay with his Aunt Evanthia, who lives just outside town.’

  Selena’s brows rose. ‘His mother’s sister?’ she enquired dubiously.

  ‘His father’s. Chalk and cheese, apparently.’ Millie gave a slight giggle. ‘It’ll be more convenient, and besides, I guess we’ve both overstayed our welcome here, don’t you?’

  In my case, from the moment I got here, thought Selena. She said quietly, ‘Probably.’

  She was packing her bag when Eleni came in with a small pile of clean laundry.

  Selena looked across the bed at her. ‘I’m returning home tomorrow, Kyria Validis. Will your husband be able to drive me to the ferry?’

  She saw a flash of surprise in Eleni’s eyes and what she’d have sworn was relief but the housekeeper’s voice held only its usual unemotional civility.

  ‘Of course, thespinis. You wish to take the morning boat, perhaps? Shall I tell Yorgos ten a.m.?’

  ‘That would be perfect,’ Selena returned equally levelly.

  At the door Eleni hesitated as if she was about to say something else, then turned and left in silence.

  Selena sighed and added the clean clothes to her bag, switching her thoughts determinedly to her travel plans. She wasn’t sure how soon she could get a flight from Mykonos, but there was enough credit on the cash card Aunt Nora had grudgingly supplied to tide her over for a night or two.

  But any uncertainty would be worth it if it rescued her from the present situation.

  If, she thought, it saves me from myself. From this stranger I never knew existed, but who’s living in my head. In my body...

  But then she’d never been seriously attracted to anyone before. She’d always been too busy—or too shy.

  Until now...

  She bit down hard on her lip, tormented by the memory of how swiftly and eagerly she’d surrendered.

  As if her life had been spent waiting for this moment. This man.

  Delusional, she thought. Pathetic.

  And how long would it take to get over this ridiculous weakness? To forget Alexis with the same ease that he had demonstrated over her—leaving without a word?

  When term starts, it will be easier, she told herself. Until then I’ll get a job—waiting on tables, stacking shelves—anything to keep me occupied.

  And soon these weeks in Greece will seem like a bad dream.

  If she’d thought an early night would relax her, she soon discovered she was wrong. At last, around midnight, she finally fell into a restless doze, only to find herself suddenly sitting bolt upright, staring into the darkness, her heart hammering.

  The room felt airless and oppressive, so maybe this was why she couldn’t sleep properly, yet it seemed churlish to complain of the heat when before long she’d be faced with an English winter.

  However, it might be worth risking a stray mosquito by pushing back the shutters in search of a night breeze from the pool.

  Her nightdress clinging to her, she slid off the crumpled bed, pushing back her hair from her damp forehead and relishing the coolness of the floor against her bare feet.

  The shutters glided noiselessly open and she stepped through into the courtyard, and halted abruptly, aware that she wasn’t alone. That someone who’d been stretched out on one of the loungers in front of her was rising to his feet.

  And not just someone, she realised incredulously as Alexis said softly, ‘So there you are.’

  She found her voice. ‘What are you doing here?’

  ‘Waiting,’ he said. ‘Again. For you.’

  ‘You went back to the hotel.’

  ‘I had some business to complete.’ He was watching her, barefoot like herself a
nd tightening the belt of his towelling robe. ‘It is done, so I returned.’

  ‘Yes—but...’ She hesitated nervously.

  ‘But?’ he queried.

  Selena spread her hands almost helplessly. ‘You said you were waiting but you couldn’t possibly know that I’d still be awake, let alone that I’d come out here.’

  He shrugged. ‘I was unable to sleep. I thought you might have the same difficulty.’ He took a step towards her. ‘And for the same reason.’

  ‘I—I don’t know what you mean.’

  He clicked his tongue reprovingly. ‘That is unworthy of you, agapi mou. Also untrue.’

  ‘I—I’m just concerned about the journey,’ she improvised swiftly, almost desperately. ‘You see, I’m leaving tomorrow. Going home.’

  He walked to her. He said huskily, ‘Then it is as well we have the rest of the night.’ And lifting her into his arms, he carried her down the courtyard to a room at the end where a shaded lamp burned dimly beside the bed.

  His room, Selena thought dazedly. His bed. Also waiting...

  And she needed to say something—do something to stop this here and now before the afternoon’s mistake turned into the night’s disaster.

  Instead, she found herself turning her face into his shoulder, her resolution faltering as she breathed the scent of his skin, her body curving ever more closely to the warmth and strength of his own.

  Just this once, she begged whatever gods were listening. Let me have this one memory and then I’ll go far away. Back to my old life, but able to deal with it in a better way.

  And she slid her arm round his neck, pulling him down to her waiting lips. His kiss was tender but beneath the gentleness, she already sensed a new dark urgency—a force as yet unleashed, and found herself suddenly hesitant.

  Alexis lifted his head, looking down into her widening eyes. ‘You must not be afraid, matia mou,’ he murmured as he put her down on the bed. ‘Not of me. Never of me. How can I hurt my own soul?’ He smiled at her, stroking the curve of her face then walked over to fasten the shutters and draw the filmy curtains, closing them in together before taking off his robe.