Captivated by the Greek

by Julia James

  She ran right into the water, which was blissfully warm to the skin, and plunged into its crystal-clear embrace. Behind her she heard a heavier splash, and then Nikos was there, too, grinning and diving into the deeper sea like a dolphin, surfacing again with his sable hair slicked back and water glistening like diamonds all over his broad muscled shoulders and torso.

  ‘Not going to get your hair wet, then?’

  It was his turn to taunt, and with a toss of her locks Mel mimicked his dive into the gently mounded swell and swam underwater, to emerge further out to sea, almost out of her depth. She trod water while Nikos caught up with her in two powerful strokes.

  ‘This is glorious!’ she cried exuberantly. ‘The water’s so warm it’s like a bath!’

  His grin answered hers and he dived again. Exuberance filled him as he surfaced for air some way yet further out. Mel swam to him and her eyelashes were glistening with diamond drops of water. Her slicked-back hair emphasised the perfection of her sculpted features. How incredibly beautiful she looked.

  Without conscious thought, he caught her shoulders and pressed a swift, salty kiss on her mouth. Not with passion or desire, but simply because—well, because he wanted to. It lasted only a second and then he was away again, powering through the blue waters of the warm sea.

  Mel came racing after him in the same exuberant mood. That sudden salty kiss had meant nothing—and everything. A joyous salutation to the playful pleasure of being in the warm, embracing sea, bathed in glorious bright sunshine, with fresh air and water spray and absolutely nothing to do except enjoy themselves. And enjoy each other...

  * * *

  The afternoon passed in as leisurely and lazy a fashion as the morning until, with the sun lowering, they made their way up the winding paths towards their rooms. Mel’s skin felt warm and salty, and a sense of well-being filled her.

  ‘A good first day?’ Nikos asked.

  ‘Oh, yes,’ Mel assured him. She gave a sigh of happiness and went on walking. The day might be over but—a little thrill went through her—the night was only just beginning...

  And what the night would bring was what she longed for: Nikos in her passionate embrace.

  The little thrill went through her again.

  The process of transforming herself from beach babe to evening goddess took Mel some considerable time.

  ‘Take as long as you want,’ Nikos had assured her, his eyes glinting. ‘I know it will be worth the wait.’

  Nearly ninety minutes later she checked herself out in front of the long mirror on the wardrobe door.

  As she did so a memory fused in her head of the way she’d tried to inspect her appearance in Sarrie’s back room, with nothing more than a hand mirror.

  I had no idea that I’d be here only a couple of weeks later—here with the man I was meeting up with that night!

  A sense of wonder went through her. And as she let her gaze settle on her reflection she felt wonder turn to gladness. She looked good.

  She was wearing another find from her charity shop hunts—this time a sleeveless fine cotton ankle-length dress in a warm vermilion print, with a scoop neck that hinted at a décolletage without being obvious. Her jewellery was a simple gold chain, hoop earrings and a matching bangle, her footwear low-heeled strappy sandals comfortable to walk in but more elegant than flip-flops. She’d left her hair loose, held back off her face with a narrow hairband, so that it fell in waves around her shoulders. Her make-up was light, for she knew her face was flushed from the sun, protected though her skin had been all day.

  Slipping her arms into the loose, evening jacket that went with the dress and picking up her bag, she headed out—ready for the evening ahead. Ready for all the evening would bring her—and the night that would follow...

  When Nikos opened the door of his room to her soft knocking the blaze in his eyes told her that her efforts had been more than worthwhile, and she felt the blood surge in her veins. Her pulse quickened with her body’s response to him as she gazed in appreciation at his tall, lean figure, clad now in long linen chinos and an open-necked cotton shirt.

  He guided her forward through the warm, balmy night, along the oleander-bordered path up towards the main section of the hotel, where they would be dining, and she could catch the spiced warmth of his aftershave mingling with the floral tones of her own perfume, giving her a quivering awareness of his presence at her side.

  The same awareness of him remained with her all through dinner, which was taken on the same terrace where they had breakfasted. The tables were now decked in linen, adorned with tropical flowers, with silverware catching the candlelight and the light from the torches set around the perimeter.

  She felt as light as gossamer, floating in a haze of happiness to be here now, like this, with this man, in this gorgeous place, eating food that was as delicious as it was rare, beautifully arrayed on the plate, melting in her mouth, washed down with crisp, cold wine.

  What they talked about she hardly knew. It was the same kind of easy, casual chat they had indulged in all day. About Bermuda, the sights they would see as they continued their stay, its history... They talked about films they had seen and enjoyed, about travel, all the places Nikos had been to that Mel was eager to hear about. Easy, relaxed, companionable. As if they had known each other for ever.

  Yet underneath, beneath their relaxed conversation, Mel knew that a current was running between them. Another conversation was taking place and it was signalled to her in every raised beat of her heart, every swift mingling of their eyes, every movement of his strong, well-shaped hands as he ate or lifted his glass.

  She knew she was keeping that conversation beneath the surface of her consciousness—knew that it was necessary to do so. For otherwise she would not be able to function in this social space. Yet the knowledge that it was shared with him, that just as she was constantly aware of his physical presence—the way his open-necked white shirt framed the strong column of his neck, the way his turned-back cuffs emphasised the leanness of his wrists—so he was aware of her, too—of her physical being. The way the candlelight hollowed the contours of her throat, caught the glint of gold in her earrings, burnished the echoing gold of her hair.

  They were both aware of the courtship being conducted—silently, continually, seductively. Aware, with a growing, subtle assurance, of just how that courtship must find its completion...that night.

  And so it did.

  As they rose from the table eventually—the candles burnt low, almost the only couple left out on the terrace—without thinking she slipped her hand into Nikos’s as they strolled back into the interior of the hotel. It seemed the right thing to do. The obvious thing.

  His warm, strong fingers closed around hers and it felt right, so right, to let it happen. To walk beside him, closer this time, her shoulder sometimes brushing against his, her skirts fluttering around her legs, catching against him. From inside the hotel they could hear the low sound of a piano being played somewhere.

  ‘Would you like another coffee? Or a drink in the lounge?’

  ‘Only if you would,’ she answered, glancing at him.

  His eyes caught hers. ‘You know what I want,’ he murmured. ‘And it isn’t to be found in the piano lounge.’

  There was humour in his expression, in his eyes. But his voice, when he spoke next, was serious.

  ‘Is it what you want, Mel? Tell me truly. If it isn’t, then you must say now. Because, to be honest...’

  Now the humour was back again, and she could hear a touch of self-mockery, too, and was warmed by it.

  ‘I’m not sure I’ve got the strength of mind or character to walk you back to your room and not come in with you—’

  She glanced up at him, with a similar self-mocking wry humour in her own eyes. ‘I’m not sure I’ve got the strength of mind or character to sto
p you coming in,’ she told him. ‘In fact...’ She bit her lip. ‘I strongly suspect I’d yank you inside my room even if you were being strong-minded—’

  He gave a low laugh, and Mel could hear the relief in it. The satisfaction. She gave an answering laugh as they headed off through the gardens, back towards their rooms, towards what both of them knew would happen now...

  There was a pool of darkness nearby, where the light of the low-set lamps that lined the stone pathway did not reach, and she felt him draw her into it with a swift, decisive movement. His hand tightened on hers and the other drew her round to face him. He was close...so close to her.

  She felt her heart give a little leap and that electric current came again, sizzling through her body. She could not see his expression, but she knew what it was...what it must be...what hers must be. He was dim against the night, against the stars...

  Unconsciously, instinctively, she lifted her face to his. His free hand slid to cup her throat, to tilt her face higher. She felt the smooth, gliding pressure of his fingers—their warmth, their sensuous touch. Felt her heart beating wildly now, her breath catch.

  He was standing with his legs slightly apart, a dominating male stance, one hand still gripping hers, the other fastened to her with a strong, sensuous hold, the pad of his thumb on the delicate line of her jaw.

  His long dark lashes dipped low over his eyes, glinting in the starlight. ‘Well, if that’s your attitude...’ his voice was low and husky, and it made her bones weaken ‘...I’d better not disappoint you, had I?’

  For a moment—just a moment—he delayed, and the pad of his thumb moved to her mouth, gliding leisurely across her lips. Her bones weakened further and her pulse quickened. With every fibre of her being she wanted him to kiss her...wanted to feel the warm pressure of his mouth...wanted the sweet taste of him...

  ‘Nikos...’

  She must have murmured his name, must have half closed her eyes, waiting, longing for his mouth to swoop and descend, to take hers in its silken touch.

  His fingers wound in hers and his thumb slipped away now, his fingers touching at her throat, her jaw, gentling, caressing. And then finally...finally...his mouth descended to hers. Kissing her softly, sweetly, sensuously.

  Endlessly.

  She folded into him. A gesture as natural, as instinctive as the way her mouth opened to his. She wanted to feel the fullness of his kiss, the full bliss of it, as every part of her body dissolved into it.

  Beneath the glint and glitter of the stars, in the soft, warm air, with the perfume of the night-scented flowers the susurration of the cicadas all around, his kiss went on and on. Claiming her, arousing her, calling forth from her all that she would bestow upon him that night, telling of all that he would give to her.

  When his lips finally left hers she felt as if she was still in his embrace—as if she were floating inches off the ground and as if her heart were soaring around like a fluttering bird. He led her down the path to his room and then they were inside, in the cool, air-conditioned dimness. No light was needed—only the pale glow from the phosphorescence of the open sea beyond the windows.

  He took her into his arms again, slipping his hands around her slender waist, cradling her supple spine as she leant into him, offering him her mouth...herself.

  His kiss deepened, seeking all that it could find, and she offered all that she could give, her lips moving beneath his, her mouth opening to his in a rush of sweet, sensuous bliss. She could feel the blood surge in her veins, the heat fan out across her body, as she leant into him to taste, and take, and give, and yield.

  She could feel him gliding the jacket from her shoulders, his warm hands slipping down her bared arms, and then she was pulling away from him slightly, and in a single fluid movement lifting the dress from her body, shaking her hair free of its band, giving a glorious, breathless laugh of pleasure, of anticipation.

  As Nikos’s eyes feasted on her she stood there, clad only in bra and panties, and a heady recklessness consumed her. Wordlessly she slipped the buttons of his shirt, easing her hands across the strong, warm column of his body. He caught her hands, his breath a rasp in his throat, and then he was folding her arms gently back, using the same movement to haul her against him, his mouth dipping to the soft, ripe swell of her breasts.

  She gave a little gasp, feeling her nipples engorged against the straining satin of her bra. A low laugh came from him as his hands glided up the contour of her spine to unfasten the hooks that were keeping his mouth from what it sought to find. She felt her bra fall to the ground, felt his lips nuzzle at her bared breasts delicately, sensually, teasing and tasting until she gasped again in the sheer, trembling pleasure of it.

  Her head fell back, her eyes fluttering closed, and an unconscious movement to lift her breasts to him overwhelmed her. A growl of satisfaction came from him and then he was scooping her up, lifting her as if she were a featherweight, carrying her across to the wide, waiting bed and lowering her down upon it.

  She lay upon its surface, breasts still engorged and peaked, her eyes wide as she gazed up at him. Swiftly he discarded his own clothes, and then, with a groan, came down upon her. His weight crushed her, but she gloried in it—gloried in his questing mouth that now roamed her body, his hands likewise, exploring and caressing and arousing such that if the world had caught fire that very hour she would have burned in the flames that were licking through her now.

  Her breath quickened, her pulse racing as she clutched his strong, hard shoulders, feeling her body yielding to him, feeling his glorious, piercing possession of her that felt so right, so incredibly, wonderfully right, nestling in the welcoming cradle of her hips. She felt the fire intensify within her, consuming her, until in a final conflagration she heard herself cry out, heard his answering cry, and felt a pleasure so intense it filled her entire being, shuddering through her, shaking and possessing her, on and on and on...

  Until the quietness came.

  Their bodies slaked, they held each other with slackened gentleness, beside each other, loose-limbed, embracing.

  She sought his mouth. A gentle, peaceful kiss. He kissed her back, then grazed her forehead with a kiss, as well. His eyes were soft in the dim light.

  There were no words—there did not need to be—only the gradual slowing of their racing hearts, their hectic pulse subsiding now. He drew her to him, his arms around her, hers around him, and with a little sigh she felt sleep take them.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  ‘SO, WHAT WOULD you like to do today? Anything on Bermuda you haven’t seen yet?’

  Nikos smiled encouragingly at Mel. They were breakfasting on Nikos’s patio, gazing out over the aquamarine waters of the bay, as calm as a mill pond at this time of day. Breakfasting together like this had become the rule in the days since they’d arrived, after rising in a leisurely fashion, both of them having awoken to yet more arousal after a night of searing passion.

  Hastily she reached for her coffee, hoping it might cool her suddenly heated cheeks. Time to focus on the day’s activities—yet another wonderful, blissful day of self-indulgent holidaymaking.

  In the week they’d already spent on Bermuda they’d covered nearly all the sights.

  They’d toured the historic Nelson’s Dockyard at the far west of the island, where British men-of-war had once dropped anchor, and which now welcomed massive cruise ships, disgorging their passengers to throng the myriad little cafés and craft shops.

  They’d taken the ferry from the dockyard across to the island’s bay-lapped capital, Hamilton, lunching on the sea front and exploring the shops. They’d gone to the old capital of St George’s in the north of the island, with its white-painted little houses, art galleries, churches and museums.

  And they’d been out to sea—Nikos had taken her sailing in the bay and further afield, and they’d enjoyed a sunset champa
gne dinner on a sleek motor yacht chartered to sail them around the island. He’d hired a dive boat, which had hovered over the reef for Nikos to dive with the instructor, leaving Mel content to snorkel on the surface, glimpsing long-sunk wrecks rich with darting fish, and the scary but thankfully harmless purple jellyfish that trailed long tentacles in the water deep below her.

  Mel had wanted to see and do everything, had been excited and thrilled by even the simplest things—whether it was wandering through the beautiful gardens around the hotel, or pausing for coffee at a little Bermudian coffee shop overlooking one of the beautiful pink sand beaches. She was just revelling in being in this beautiful place, in the company of this fabulous man...

  This is the most fantastic holiday romance that anyone could ever wish for.

  Again she felt heat fan her cheeks. Nikos was so sensual and passionate a lover she was blown away by it. Never had she realised how incredible it could be when two people gave themselves to each other up to the very hilt of passion. How in the moment of union their bodies could pulse with an intensity, an explosion of sensual overload that wrung from her a response she had never felt before.

  Jak had been a careful lover, and her memories of him were fond and grateful, but Nikos—ah, Nikos was in a league of his own. All the promise...all the shimmering awareness of the irrepressible physical attraction that had flared between them right from their first intemperate encounter...had exploded on their first night together. And now, night after night, when he took her in his arms, skilfully caressed her body to melting, she felt transported to a level of sensual satiation she had never known existed. And it was Nikos who took her there...

  Will there ever be anyone in my life like him again?

  The question was in her head before she could stop it. And so was the answer.

  How could there be? How could there be anyone like him again—how could there be a time like this ever again in her life?

  A little quiver went through her, but she silenced it. She had come away with Nikos with her eyes open—knowing he wanted only a brief, passionate affair and nothing more. Knowing that that was exactly what she wanted, too. A fabulous, gorgeous, breathtaking entrée in the feast of freedom that was to be her new independent life.