by Annie West
That woke her from her lethargy. She opened her eyes wide, staring straight into Costas’ gaze. This time she had no trouble reading his thoughts. Mischief danced in his black eyes just as surely as it curved his strong, sensuous mouth in a smile that stole her breath.
Her heart seemed to swell as she stared back, mesmerised by his male beauty, and by sheer delight.
It was too much.
These feelings, the wondrous knowledge of this new emotional bond between them, of love…it was too much. Surely her heart would burst out of her ribcage.
She loved him so. Adored him. Even down to the smug anticipation lighting his expression.
He was definitely a man with but one thing on his mind. She took in his expression. Lust. Anticipation.
Out of nowhere fear jagged through her brain. Remembered pain.
Her body tensed as insidious doubt wormed its way into her brain. Could she be wrong? Was it possible she’d made a mistake? That his passion was, after all, only skin-deep? As shallow as a simple desire for a bed partner.
Could it be that he hadn’t experienced the revelation she had?
Goose-pimples rose on her arms as a sudden chill encompassed her.
As she watched, his smile faded. His face grew serious, as if he could read her doubt and fear.
‘Sophie,’ he murmured. ‘You’re like a light in the darkness.’ His voice was hoarse with emotion. A mirror to her own overwhelming feelings. His eyes held the same wonder. ‘I can’t imagine what I’ve done to deserve you.’
He leaned down, pressed a lingering, tender kiss against her lips.
Sophie shut her eyes, knowing that here, in his arms, she’d come home. She hadn’t made some terrible mistake.
This was where she was meant to be.
Hungry for his caresses, even more for his love, she linked her arms up round his neck, tugging him to her.
The kiss escalated from gentle to lush. From lush to languorously seductive. And then to passionate. Desperate.
It only ended when he stepped into a huge shower compartment and warm jets of water sprayed across them.
‘You can put me down,’ she spluttered, wiping a lock of wet hair back from her face.
He did, lowering her slowly to her feet, and then keeping his hands on her arms, holding her steady as she swayed.
She watched the water sluice down, plastering his dark hair to his head, glistening on every curve and angle of his hard chest, highlighting every masculine plane and curve. She sucked in her breath on a sigh of sheer wonder.
Costas lifted a hand and smoothed her hair back over her shoulder, his hand lingering to curve around her neck, splay-fingered in a possessive hold.
Sophie couldn’t stop the smile that shaped her lips as she leaned close to his touch. She was acting on instinct and instinct told her this was the most wonderful experience of her life.
He stepped closer, reaching round behind her then holding out a cake of soap in his hand.
‘I’ve been wanting to do this ever since the first time I saw you,’ he said, his voice husky.
She remembered him that first day. All soaking-wet muscle and barely suppressed impatience as he’d forced her under the shower. Even then, sick and grief-stricken, she’d barely been able to take her eyes off his magnificent body.
And now…she had the right to do more than look.
Mesmerised, she watched him lather the soap between his hands, slowly, methodically, and then reach behind her to put it down. His breath was warm against her face as his hands, slippery with soap bubbles, skimmed across her collar-bone, down the curve to her breasts, where he slowed and circled, till she bit down on her lip to stop from calling out. She reached for his shoulders, needing his strength to stay upright as the slow, erotic swirl of his hands weakened her knees.
‘There are so many things I’ve been wanting to do with you, Sophie.’ His voice was a low rumble and his smile was taut as his hands smoothed a path down her ribcage, into the indentation of her waist, out across the flare of her hips and then lower.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
SOPHIE NEVER WANTED to move. She could stay like this forever.
She was sprawled in the largest, most luxurious bed she’d ever seen. The rich cotton sheets were soft against her skin. Her body felt light, almost weightless, but at the same time ultra-sensitive, after hour upon hour of lovemaking.
Even now she felt a warm curl of satisfaction deep in her belly at how well-loved she’d been.
No wonder she didn’t have the strength yet to raise her head or open her eyes.
Last night Costas had been so voracious in his need for her. Under his tutelage she’d responded uninhibitedly. They’d taken each other to peak after peak, as desire was rekindled time and again.
He’d been boldly demanding. Outrageously seductive. Fiercely passionate. And incredibly tender.
He’d brought tears to her eyes more than once. And the way he’d watched her so intensely, refusing to turn out the light precisely, he said, because he needed to see her. She shivered, remembering the intensity of his regard. At first she’d been reluctant, preferring to hide her responses to him. But then she’d discovered just what he meant, as she watched him lose control for her. Just for her.
That was the reason she felt so good.
It wasn’t just the sex. It was the bond, so strong now between them that she knew he felt it just as much as she did.
Maybe this time when he woke there’d be time for conversation, for declarations.
She wriggled, snuggling down beneath the sheet.
It took her a while to realise that for the first time since she’d seen Costas stalking out of the sea towards her, she couldn’t feel him. All night he’d been close, touching, embracing, stroking. Teasing. As if he couldn’t bear her as far as arm’s length from him.
Which had suited her just fine.
Sophie swiped her foot across the bed.
Nothing.
She frowned and dragged her hand across the sheet till her arm stretched across the centre of the mattress.
It was cold.
She frowned. The bathroom? She couldn’t hear anything. But the rooms were soundproofed. Heat scorched her throat and cheeks as she remembered Costas reassuring her last night that she could be as loud as she liked and no one but he could hear.
She opened her eyes and saw it was morning. Not only that—it was late. The glare of full sun rimmed the curtains. She rolled onto her back and found herself alone.
A cold weight settled in her stomach, pressing down.
Ridiculous. There was nothing wrong. Costas was probably in the shower, maybe even waiting for her.
She threw back the sheet and crawled to the end of the bed, aware now of the dull, delicious ache of muscles rarely used. She was a little self-conscious by the time she reached the door to the en suite bathroom. But that was ridiculous. After all that had happened between them there was no need to be.
Nevertheless she paused and knocked.
No answer.
She rapped harder with her knuckles, waited for the door to swing open and Costas to smile down at her, his eyes glittering with secret promise.
Eventually she opened the door and walked in. The bathroom was empty.
Again she felt that heavy, plunging sensation in her stomach.
Not foreboding. Just a need for food. She’d have it as soon as Costas returned. He’d probably gone onto the balcony for some fresh air.
Sophie crossed to the bedroom window and opened the curtain enough to see the large balcony. It was empty too. She repressed a frown. He’d gone downstairs to get some food for them. That was all.
She swung away and turned towards the bed. And stopped.
On the floor beside where she’d lain was a neat pile of clothes.
Slowly she paced towards it, recognising a T-shirt and a pair of jeans that had just been washed—they’d only been put in her wardrobe yesterday. Undies, bra, even a pair of flat-heeled sanda
ls and her hairbrush.
Suddenly Sophie found herself sitting in a club chair near the bed. These weren’t the clothes she’d worn yesterday. Costas had dressed, gone to her room and found something for her to wear then left the bundle by the bed. All without bothering to wake her.
What sort of message was that?
Blankly she stared, trying to work out what had happened. Trying so hard not to jump to conclusions. She wasn’t well-acquainted with the rules for dealing with the morning after.
But then she hadn’t thought of this as a morning after. She’d been so sure it was a new beginning. Not an ending.
She sucked in a breath, holding her palm against her ribs where a stitch caught her. A dull ache started up somewhere deep inside.
Eventually she moved. Took her time showering, dressing, brushing out her knotted hair. All the while waiting for the sound of a door slamming open, the quick, decisive stride she’d come to know so well. The deep, sensuous voice that had urged her to ecstasy.
Costas’ room remained stubbornly empty. As was hers. As was the whole upper floor.
He’s gone to the hospital, she told herself. That must be it.
Anxiety bloomed in the pit of her stomach. Had Eleni taken a turn for the worse? Was there a crisis?
She shook her head, striving to control her breathing. No. If it was serious Costas would have told her, or left word. She knew he would have.
So why hadn’t he woken her? Told her he had to leave? Or even scribbled a note? Why leave her to wake alone and wondering?
She frowned as she stared at her watch. It wasn’t breakfast she’d missed. It was lunch too. She’d been so exhausted she’d slept more solidly than she had in weeks.
Which meant Costas had probably been gone for hours.
By the time she descended to the ground floor Sophie felt un-seasonably chilled, as if the cold had gone bone-deep despite the bright sunshine outside.
No one in the dining room, or the sitting room, or—
‘Kalimera, thespinis.’
Sophie swung round to see the housekeeper emerge from the servants’ quarters.
‘Kalimera sas,’ she responded, her smile shaky.
‘You have slept well, yes? Would you like some food?’
‘I’ll wait, thanks,’ she said. ‘Kyrie Palamidis and I had some things to discuss. I’ll wait and eat with him.’
The housekeeper tilted her head, her expression puzzled.
‘But the kyrios left the house hours ago,’ she explained. ‘He visited the hospital first. Then he rang to say he’d decided to take some business meetings. He won’t be back until this evening. You take a seat and I’ll bring you a nice meal, in just a few minutes.’ She smiled and nodded and turned back the way she’d come.
Which was just as well. Otherwise she’d have known something was terribly wrong when Sophie stumbled blindly to a hard-backed chair and collapsed onto it.
One shuddering breath. Another.
Sophie forced the air down into her lungs. She felt the excruciating stab of pain straight to her heart.
She knew now why Costas had slipped away. And stayed away all day. As far as he was concerned nothing had changed. And there was nothing more to be said between them.
Sex. That’s what I want. That’s all I want.
She slammed her hands over her ears but nothing could stop the hateful memory of those words echoing in her head.
I want to forget the world for a single night. Sex and ecstasy and animal pleasure.
Scalding tears welled in her eyes as she remembered how ferociously he’d responded to her last night. Just how much animal pleasure he drawn from her willing body through the long hours of darkness.
When she’d stupidly thought they were making love.
No relationship. No future.
The words were a death knell to her fragile hopes.
She’d been a fool last night, carried away by the strength of her need. By her love for him.
Stupidly she’d believed that because she felt far more than lust, Costas must now too. But nothing had changed for him.
She choked back the bitter taste of despair.
She knew exactly where she stood with Costas Palamidis.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
COSTAS MANOEUVRED THE car around another swooping curve on the road home. He kept the powerful engine at a moderate speed, unwilling to follow his inclination and floor the accelerator. There was no need to hurry, he assured himself. That would be a sign of weakness.
He was a man who’d always prided himself on his strength of character. And he would not weaken now. No matter how great the incentive.
But he permitted himself a smile at the thought of the delicious temptation awaiting him at home.
Sophie.
Generous and ripely seductive. A revelation even to a man of his experience. Never had he possessed a lover who turned night into glorious, dazzling day for him. Who made his blood sing and his senses swim. Who stripped him bare of all civilised refinement and reduced him to mindless ecstasy.
Was it any wonder he’d been careful to keep his distance today?
A man needed to retain some control, some perspective. He couldn’t allow a love affair, however delightful, to cloud his judgement. He had responsibilities. A daughter to care for. A multinational business to direct.
No. He needed to remember that a lover could not be permitted to take over his life.
He’d woken to the pearly dawn light and to a sense of such fulfilment, such peace and such fizzing anticipation, that it alarmed him.
Hell, it had terrified him! He could admit that to himself at least.
He’d felt the smooth curve of Sophie’s waist beneath his palm, smelt the love-scent of her, heady in his nostrils, and knew he never wanted to leave her.
Hell! What sort of nonsense was that?
An illusion left over from the starlight when she’d come to him like a goddess out of the darkness. When she’d been the lover he’d yearned for. Absolute perfection.
He shook his head, to clear it of the fantasy that even now clouded his thinking.
She’d played havoc with his thought processes. With his self-control. For a while there she’d even tempted him into thinking he needed more from her. Something other than sexual satisfaction and the blissful, mindless release it brought.
The woman was too dangerous.
So he’d left her. A tactical withdrawal.
He shrugged. He hadn’t exhibited any finesse, or even his customary good manners. Instead he’d left her to wake alone. He’d been more brutal, perhaps, than strictly necessary. But he didn’t want her harbouring illusions. He wasn’t after a permanent relationship.
But an affair—mutually satisfying—now, that was something completely different.
He felt the unfamiliar stretch of facial muscles as his mouth curved into a smile.
Time and again today he’d found himself succumbing to temptation: reaching for his keys, calculating how long it would take to drive home, race up the stairs and find her. Perhaps she’d even be in bed, waiting for him, as eager for his touch as he was for hers.
But no. It was late afternoon. She’d have vacated his bed hours ago.
He’d deliberately kept away long enough to ensure there was no misunderstanding between them. He didn’t want her expecting more from him than he was prepared to give.
His nights would be hers, as long as it suited them both. But by day he had other duties. He ignored the fact that he’d just cancelled his last meeting so he could hurry back to her. He was a man, after all, not a machine. And no sane man would opt for a late-afternoon meeting when he could have Sophie instead.
He ignored too the guilty suspicion that he’d made his point too blatantly. He could have called her earlier and explained he’d be away all day. He could have left her a message this morning. In fact, he could have woken her when he left their bed. Except he’d been scared that he might be tempted to remain there, heedless of
all else.
Costas had never experienced a craving that could compare with his appetite for this one woman. He didn’t know how to handle it.
Had he been a coward? Had he hurt her?
No. He’d been decisive, sensible. He’d started as he meant to go on. He knew Sophie, so open and honest, would appreciate that in the long run.
And after all, she’d waited for him on the beach last night. Clearly she now accepted his terms: no emotional ties, no plans for the future.
If she was disappointed this morning, well, he’d found it hard to leave her too. And he’d make it up to her.
Anticipation clenched his stomach muscles as he slowed for the electronic gates to open then nosed the car onto his private road.
Fleetingly this morning he’d felt guilt that he’d taken advantage of a guest under his roof. But he hadn’t been able to sustain the remorse, not as the memories flooded back of the incredible night they’d shared.
It had been debatable who had seduced whom down on the shore. She was a natural siren, luring him to forget his scruples, his hesitation, everything but the need for her in his arms.
His breath snagged in his chest. He imagined her lying in sated abandonment in the centre of his bed. Waiting for his touch to bring her to passionate life again.
His foot slid forward on the accelerator as he pictured himself igniting her passion with his hands, his mouth, his body. He wanted her again. But then he’d wanted her all night and all day. Had been aroused time and again by the scent of her arousal, the magic of her flesh against his and the slumberous eroticism of her heavy-lidded eyes when she woke to his caresses.
Her absolute responsiveness had stunned him, urging him on to want, to take more than he ever had from a woman before. And she’d revelled in it, answering his desire with her own urgent need, provoking him to love her longer, harder, more completely than he’d thought possible.
He ached as hunger, unabated and white hot, took hold again.
He’d received excellent news today from Eleni’s doctors. The best news. And he knew just how to celebrate it.
