“What stopped me?” He scooped down and picked her up, lifting her over his shoulder. “The fact that if I’d kissed you I wouldn’t have been able to stop.”
A shiver ran down her spine and every single cell in her body reverberated at a new, urgent frequency, full of wanting and longing and need. His hand was wrapped around her legs, and his fingers crept beneath her skirt, holding the soft flesh behind her knees. She made a low grumbling noise of impatience.
“I know.”
He slid the key out of his pocket and ran it across the magnetic panel, then shouldered the door inwards.
“You can put me down now,” she laughed softly.
He didn’t answer. His stride was long as he powered through the suite, to the bedroom that he had claimed. Or, rather, the bedroom that was left after she’d claimed hers.
He placed her on the ground with a gentleness that was at odds with the fact he’d just pushed her against a wall, holding her in place with his body, and kissed her until she saw stars.
A muscle throbbed in the base of his jaw. “Unlike you, I have experience with this,” he said, and Claudia’s eyes clouded over. She didn’t want to think of the myriad women he’d been with before her. Nor how experienced they were – how perfectly able to give pleasure to Stavros.
Her own inadequacies flashed before her like a blinding light.
“I keep telling myself to take it slowly with you. To savour this. To teach you. To show you.” He stepped behind her and his fingers pressed to the gold zipper of her dress, drawing it lower painstakingly slowly, exposing her flesh with every gentle movement. “But I feel like I am the hormonally charged school boy I used to be.”
Relief twisted her gut and a smile played on her lips. “Worried you might not live up to your virile image?”
“Worried I will not be able to give you what you deserve.”
Her heart twisted and she forced herself to be bold. She spun around to face him, the movement dislodging her dress, sliding it lower down her body, exposing her neat breasts. But he wasn’t looking at her body. His eyes were glued to hers.
“I’m not looking for anything beyond tonight,” she said. “You don’t have to worry about what I deserve. This is all that we are. And that’s fine by me.”
His eyes bore into hers and for a moment she thought – hoped – he was going to argue with her. But then, he dropped his mouth to hers, plundering her, kissing her, his tongue an invasion of all of her senses.
She moaned as she arched her back, pushing towards him, and his hands curled around her naked hips, lifting her out of her dress altogether and wrapping her legs around him, as he’d done that day in his office. His fingers ran through her hair, dislodging the pins, pulling it from the bun, so that it fell wild down her back. Claudia kissed him back but she was impatient as well. She wanted to see him.
She needed to see him.
Her fingers found his bow tie and pulled at it, undoing it effortlessly. She dropped it to the floor and then moved to the top button of his shirt as he dropped her back on the bed. He kissed her as she undid each of his buttons, her fingers unsteady yet speedy. One by one, until his shirt parted completely.
“Let me see you,” she demanded huskily, her hands on his chest pushing him up a little.
He smiled down at her, a smile of amusement, as her eyes devoured him, taking in the ridges of his sculpted abdomen and a tattoo that ran across his hip.
μελλοντικό άγνωστο
“What’s this?” She ran her finger over the markings, confident that the alphabet was not English and that she wasn’t revealing her stupidity by asking the question.
“It says mellontikó ágnosto.”
“Meaning?” Her fingers found their way to his belt. She unclasped it and then dropped the belt, before moving to the button of his pants.
“Future unknown,” he said huskily, standing straight and taking over, removing his own pants and leaving them on the floor. He reached for something on the bedside table and she knew what it was even before she saw it.
A condom.
Her heart turned over.
“Did you plan this? Tonight?”
He winked slowly, and it tore through her like a wildfire. “I had hope.”
“I had none.” She stared up at him, her heart racing, her mind uncomprehending.
He stepped out of his underwear, black briefs, and she lifted up onto her elbows, unashamedly staring at him. All of him.
“Would you like me to turn around?” He teased.
She nodded, her throat as dry as the desert. “Slowly.”
He laughed, but did as she said, rotating on the spot to give her the full tour of his naked body. Tan all over, check. Sinew and muscle, check. Tight arse, check. Absolutely ready to go? Apparently.
“My turn.” He held his hands out and she placed hers in them, so that he could easily pull her to standing. Wearing only a lace G-string, she was virtually naked, but still, he slid his fingers into the sides, bending down as he slid the fabric from her body. His fingers grazed her legs and she had to bite down on her lower lip to stop from whimpering.
It was slow and sensual and so full of promise. She could feel moist heat slicking between her legs and she was inexperienced enough to feel embarrassed.
“I’m…”
He looked up at her, his eyes meeting hers with something she couldn’t fathom in their rich, tormented depths.
And then he brought his head forward, his mouth pressing against her femininity and she cried out in abject shock and surprise. Feelings that were dwarfed by desire as he ran his tongue along her seam, finding her most sensitive collection of nerves and striking them with his tongue until she was at a fever pitch of hunger.
“You are so wet for me, princess.”
“Don’t call me that,” she said, but the words were swallowed by her crying out. She ran her fingers through his thick, dark hair as his tongue returned to her body. He knew what she needed even when she had no idea, when she couldn’t possibly articulate it. He caught her thighs in his powerful hands and pushed them wider, spreading her legs and lowering her, so that he had full, unfettered access to her body.
And he was unrelenting, as though her orgasm was all he existed for.
She bit down on her lip and silent moans shook her body, she trembled all over until finally a wave of quenching pleasure broke and she cried out, tangling her fingers more tightly in his hair, holding onto him for dear life.
It was the birth of something new within Claudia. An empowerment and a need that were almost in complete contradiction of one another. The pleasure in learning what her body was capable of – and knowing that Stavros alone could stir her to these heights? It was an unreasonable conundrum.
He didn’t give her long to recover from her waves of pleasure. From where he was crouched on the floor, he caught his bowtie in his fingers, and, as he stood, he whispered the fabric over her body, pausing at her nipples and letting it glance, ever so lightly, across her sensitive flesh. At her mouth, he pressed a finger inside her moist lips, just the tip, and she rolled her tongue over it instinctively. His arousal jerked against her belly.
The sense of power grew.
He lifted the bow tie higher, to her eyes, where he held it, wrapping it around her head and securing it with the clip.
“Okay?” He asked, the question hoarse with desire.
She nodded. She wasn’t sure she could speak. She certainly couldn’t see. His mouth founds hers and it was gentle and it was an exploration, a searching of her. She surrendered to him, swaying her body forward, feeling his closeness and taking strength from it.
He kissed her harder then, lifting her up and carrying her back to the bed, but this time when he lay her down he came with her, his powerful frame over hers, his legs straddling her, his mouth barely lifting from hers.
He wanted to take her. He wanted to drive into her fast, then slowly, but first, he needed to kiss her breasts, her stomach, her
shoulder. He wanted to kiss every square inch of her until she was begging him to take her.
He dragged his mouth lower, between her breasts, his tongue running a line down her front, all the way to her naval. She sucked in a shaking breath and arched her back, her hands reaching down to his shoulders, kneading his flesh.
“You are so beautiful,” he murmured against her skin, smiling as he moved back to her breast and ran his tongue over the soft underside.
“Thank you.” A soft murmur, and his smile grew. She was barely listening. He brought his mouth back to her neck, flicking the pulse point there and then, he hovered above her, staring down at her, taking in every detail of her.
“Are you okay?” His hesitation surprised him.
“Uh huh.” She smiled and something inside of him shifted, a weight, sliding from his gut and lower.
He nudged her thighs apart with his knee and then he brought his tip to her womanhood, gently probing her, watching her face. She held her breath and he ached to take away her fear. He kissed her once more, slowly, as he entered her, and he tasted her moan.
He paused when he was completely sheathed in her moist depths, giving her a moment to adjust to the strange newness of his possession, and then he shifted, moving deeper, and pulling out, kissing her, letting his fingers run over her as he stirred her to new heights. Slowly this time, not like in his office when desperate passion had overcome him.
He felt her muscles squeezing, desire slicking her, and he reached down, loosening the bowtie from her eyes.
“I want to see you,” he explained huskily.
And he watched as she fell apart. He watched as her face flushed and her eyes rolled back in her head, as she bit down on her lip and she scrunched up her face, experiencing the pleasure in every nerve in her body.
He kissed her then, and she kissed him back, pushing up on her elbows and knotting her fingers in his hair, pulling him down to her. She wrapped her legs around his waist and then she moved, rolling her hips, taunting him, teasing him, driving him dangerously close to explosion.
“Claudia,” he murmured, breaking the kiss.
“What? Am I doing something wrong?”
His laugh was a sharp dismissal. “You are doing everything perfectly.”
She sucked in a breath and feminine pride filled her up, making her glow from within.
“This is amazing,” she whispered.
He laughed. “You are definitely good for my ego.”
She couldn’t respond. He moved deeper and she moaned, her fingertips digging into his shoulders, her eyes locked to his as her pleasure reached fever pitch once more. This time, he rode the wave with her, breathing in time with her, holding her as she fell apart and exploding into her, losing himself in her sweetness and her responsiveness.
He held her, and he waited for her breathing to slow, and then he propped on his elbows, looking down at her. A fine bead of perspiration ran across her forehead and he kissed it, tasting her saltiness, worshipping her.
“That should have been your first time.”
She nodded, not capable of speech. The sting of tears was in her eyes and her throat but they were tears borne of happiness and satiation.
“Thank you.” A hoarse, thick acknowledgement of gratitude. “I’m glad you were my first.”
“I’m glad it wasn’t three years ago,” he said with a gruff laugh.
“Would that have been so bad?” She murmured, lifting a hand up and cupping his stubbled face.
“It would have been wrong,” he said, pressing a kiss to the tip of her nose. His laugh was uncomfortable. “This probably still is.”
Claudia shook her head. “No. This is perfect.” Just this one night, she reminded herself. She turned her head to the side, expelling a soft sigh. “Look!” She propped up on one elbow, bringing her face just an inch or so from his. “It’s still snowing.”
“So it is.” He shifted a little pulling out of her and sitting up straighter. “How have you never done this, Claudia?”
She sat up beside him, her eyes locked to his. “Is it so hard to believe?”
He frowned. “Yes.”
“Why? How old were you?”
“When I first slept with someone?” He dragged a hand through his hair. “Younger.”
“How young?”
He laughed, a short, sharp sound. “Does it matter?”
“What? Were you like eight or something?”
Another laugh. “No.” He stared at her long and hard. “I was fifteen.”
“Fifteen?” She blinked at him. “Fifteen? You were a kid.”
“A boy,” he grinned. “What can I say? I was very interested,” he rolled his fingertip down her breast, and flicked her nipple. “In the female anatomy.”
“I’ll bet you were,” she drawled.
“It’s normal to be curious,” he said with a shrug. “Which is why I find it hard to believe you haven’t been with other men.”
“You know why,” she said, standing up a little self-consciously, and moving to the wardrobe. There was a toweling robe inside. She lifted it out and wrapped it around herself, cinching it at the waist.
“Do I?” He was glorious in his state of nudity. He stood, like a Greek god and strode into the bathroom. When he emerged a moment later, the condom was gone and he had wrapped a towel around his waist, and she bemoaned the covering of his flesh despite the fact she had done the same thing.
Claudia moved closer to him, and he wrapped his arms around her waist, staring down into her eyes.
“Tell me,” he prompted.
She held her breath. Dared she confess that he had ruined her for all men? That even as she was processing the death of her father, she was coming to terms with her burgeoning sexuality and that all her youthful passions had been ignited by the appearance of Stavros Aresteides?
“I went to an all-girls school,” she hedged. “I barely left the campus. When would I have had a chance to hook up with anyone?”
“Hook up?” His face flickered with disdain. “But you must have had dates? Interest?”
“Well, yeah,” she grimaced. “I don’t know, okay? It’s not a big deal, is it?”
The silence was barbed. He might have wanted to push her, but he let it drop. Instead, he pressed a kiss to her lips, just a brief kiss, and then straightened.
“Hungry?”
She nodded, though she wasn’t sure she was. “Why are you going to cook?” She was joking, but he surprised her by nodding.
“Or at least order a perfect room service.”
CHAPTER TEN
“SO TELL ME THE truth,” she said, scooping some more spaghetti into her mouth and then reaching for her napkin, wiping her lips.
He studied her curiously, waiting for her to elaborate. When she didn’t, he prompted, “About what?”
“Why are you here in England instead of with your family?”
He didn’t visibly react. “To look after my wayward ward, remember?”
“And you’re looking after me very, very well,” she winked. “But I don’t buy it. As you’ve pointed out again and again, I’m always in the papers. Why now?”
He sipped his wine, his eyes hooded when they met hers. “I wanted to be here.”
“You didn’t want to be there,” she corrected.
He dipped his head forward in silent agreement.
“Ah ha!” She leaned closer without realizing it. “Why not?”
“It’s … complicated. Family stuff.”
“Family stuff? What’s that like?”
He shifted a little. “Do you regret not having siblings?”
“I can’t regret it. It’s not like it was my decision.”
“Right.” He frowned. “Do you wish you had siblings?”
“Nope. Don’t change the subject,” she said with a small smile. She reached for a piece of garlic bread and took a bite. Warm butter oozed out of the corner of her mouth and he reached over and caught it with his fingertip, taking it to hi
s mouth and tasting it. She followed the gesture with her eyes, her stomach churning with desire.
“Is that what I was doing?”
“Yeah. And trying to distract me with how much I want you,” she said with mock criticism.
He laughed. “Is it working?”
“Almost.” She pouted. “But I really want to know.”
“How do you know there’s anything more to it?”
“I just do. So? What family stuff?”
He kicked back in his chair, lacing his fingers behind his head and regarding her for a long moment before nodding slowly. “Okay, if you really want to know.”
“I do.” She hadn’t even realized she’d been holding her breath.
“My brother is getting married.”
“You have four brothers?”
He nodded. “And one sister.”
“So one of your brothers is getting married. Isn’t that a good thing? I mean, you seem kind of pissed about it?”
“Yeah.” He laughed. “That’s because his fiancé is my ex.”
Something strange flared inside of Claudia. She didn’t want to analyse the dark emotion that overtook her senses, filling her with ice and fire all at once. “Your ex?”
“Rhiannon,” he nodded.
The name was vaguely familiar to Claudia. She tapped her fingertip against her cheek. “You were with her when I … back when…”
“When you begged me to take your virginity?” He prompted, the words droll, as though he was enjoying her discomfort.
“Yes.” She didn’t meet his eyes.
“We broke up about a month after I left the UK.”
“Why?” She didn’t let hope flare in her breast. It had nothing to do with her. That was stupid, immature vanity, a hopeless, blind vanity, speaking.
“We weren’t well-suited,” he shrugged. “We should have realized sooner but we were friends, I suppose.”
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