by Penny Jordan
‘Not until you have admitted that I am right and that you want me,’ Andreas refused. ‘Or are you trying to goad me into proving to you that I am right?’
Saskia flinched as she felt the suffocating, dangerously toxic mix of fear and excitement explode inside her.
She hesitated whilst she tried to formulate the right response, the only sane, sensible response she could give, and then she realised that she had waited too long as Andreas told her rawly, ‘You’ve pushed me too far, Saskia. I want you, but you already know that, don’t you? How could a woman like you not know it? You can feel it in my body, can’t you?’ he demanded. ‘Here...’
Helplessly Saskia leaned against him whilst she tried to absorb the shock of having her hand taken and placed so explicitly against the hard, intimate throb of his maleness. If only she could find the strength to drag her hand away, to tell him that she didn’t want the intimacy he was forcing on her. But despairingly she knew that she was too weak, that there was no way she could stop herself from aching to use the opportunity he had given her to touch and explore him, to know him...to know his maleness...to—
She gave a small moan as her body started to shake with tremors of desire. Andreas’s heart was pounding so savagely that she could feel it almost inside her own body. Earlier in the evening, when he had almost absently caressed the ball of her shoulder—the touch of an established lover for his beloved—she had shuddered in mute delight, but that was nothing to what she was feeling now.
She ached for him, hungered for him, and when she closed her eyes she could see him as Athena had so tauntingly described him—proud and naked as his body sliced the water. She moaned again, a high, sharp sound this time that had Andreas covering her mouth with the hard, hot, demanding pressure of his, the words he was groaning against her lost as his passion sent a kick of shocking voluptuous pleasure searing through her.
Her mouth was properly open beneath his now, her tongue hungry for the sensual melding stroke of his, and the intensity of her own feelings was dizzying and dazzling her.
‘You want me... You need me...’
She could feel him mouthing the words and she couldn’t deny them, her body, her emotions were saturated with the intensity of a response to him so new to her that she had no defences against it.
Everything else was suddenly forgotten, unimportant. Everything else and everyone else. All she needed... All she wanted... All she could ever want was here within her reach.
She moaned and trembled as she felt Andreas’s hands on her body and over her dress, their touch hard, hungry...excitingly, dangerously male. The unfamiliar intimacy of his body against hers was depriving her of the ability to think or to reason properly. There was no place for reason to exist in this new world she was inhabiting anyway.
‘I want to see you...watch you whilst I make love to you,’ Andreas was saying thickly to her. ‘I want you to see me... My God, but I can understand now just why all those other men fell victim to you. There’s something about you, some witchery, some— What’s wrong?’ he demanded as he felt the abrupt way Saskia had tensed against him in rejection.
Saskia could not bear to look at him.
With those few contemptuous words he had destroyed everything, totally obliterated her wonderful new world and brought her crashing back to her old one. She felt sick to her soul from her own behaviour, her own folly.
‘No, no, I don’t want this,’ she protested frantically, pushing Andreas away.
‘What the...?’ She could hear the anger in his voice, feel it almost, but still he released her.
‘If this is some kind of game—’ he began to warn her, and then stopped, shaking his head in disbelief. ‘My God, I must have been out of my mind anyway, to even contemplate... I suppose that’s what too many years of celibacy does for a man,’ he threw at her unkindly. ‘I never thought I’d be idiotic enough...’
He turned back to her, stopping when Saskia froze.
‘You’re quite safe,’ he told her grimly. ‘I’m not going to touch you. There’s no way—’ He broke off and shook his head again, and then walked abruptly away from her, telling her brusquely, ‘I’ve got some work to do.’
* * *
THE BEDROOM WAS in darkness when Saskia woke up, and at first she didn’t know what had woken her. Then she heard it again, the rhythmic sound of someone swimming. The patio doors to the pool area were open, and as she turned her head to look towards them she could see the discreet lights which were illuminating it.
Andreas was swimming... She looked at her watch. It was three o’clock in the morning and Andreas was swimming...tirelessly up and down the pool. Warily she sat up in bed to get a closer look as his powerful crawl took him to the far side of the pool. As he executed his turn Saskia lay down again. She didn’t want him to see her watching him.
Beneath the bedclothes she was naked, apart from a tiny pair of briefs. The one thing Andreas had apparently forgotten to buy for her had turned out to be any kind of nightwear. That discovery had caused her to remain for nearly fifteen minutes in the locked privacy of the bathroom, agonising over what she should do until she had finally found the courage to open the door and make an undignified bolt for the bed, her body hidden from view by the towel she had wrapped around it. Not that she need have been so concerned. Andreas had remained out of sight in his office.
But he wasn’t in his office now. Now he was swimming in the pool.
Beneath the protective cover of the bedclothes Saskia’s brain worked feverishly. Should he be swimming alone at night? Was it safe? What if...? Almost the very second that fear formed her ears registered the fact that she could no longer hear the sound of Andreas swimming. Quickly she lowered the bedclothes and looked anxiously towards the pool area. The water was still, calm—and empty of its sole swimmer.
Andreas! Where—? She gripped hold of the bedclothes as she saw him climbing out of the water—totally naked—totally! She tried to drag her recalcitrant gaze away from his body but it was no use; it was refusing to listen to her, refusing to obey her, remaining fixed in hungry female appreciation on the pagan male beauty of Andreas’s nakedness.
Surely any woman would have found the sight of Andreas breathtaking, Saskia thought fervently, her gaze devouring the pure sensuality of his back view as he walked across the tiles. His skin shone sleekly, still damp from his swim, and beneath it the muscles moved in a way that had a shockingly disconcerting effect on her own body.
Naively Saskia had always previously assumed that there could be little difference in seeing a statue or a painting of a naked man and viewing the real thing, but now she knew how wrong she had been. Perhaps it was her love for him that made the difference, perhaps it was... She gasped as he suddenly turned round. He seemed to be looking right into the bedroom. Could he see her? Did he know that she was watching him? She lay perfectly still, praying that he could not do so, unable to bear the humiliation of his mockery if he were to come in to her now. If he were to...
She just managed to suppress the audible sound of her own longing. If he came to her now and held her, touched her, kissed her...took her as she was so aching for him to do, it wouldn’t be in love but in lust. Was that really what she wanted? she asked herself sternly. No, of course it wasn’t, was her helpless response. What she wanted was for Andreas to love her the way she did him.
He was turning away from her now, his body silhouetted by the light. Saskia sucked in her breath sharply, every feminine instinct and desire she possessed flagrantly ignoring her attempts to control them. He looked... He was... He was perfect she acknowledged, silently whispering the soft accolade beneath her breath as her eyes rounded and she saw that the male reality of him far, far outreached anything she had ever thought of in her innocent virginal imaginings.
Once again he looked towards the bedroom and Saskia held her breath, praying...hoping...waiting... She expell
ed it on a small rush of sound as he reached down and retrieved his robe, shrugging it on before walking not back to the bedroom and to her but away from it. Where was he going? she wondered. Back to his office?
For what felt like a long time after he had gone Saskia lay where she was, afraid to move, unable to sleep and even more afraid to think. What was the matter with her? How could she possibly love a man who had treated her as Andreas had done, who had blackmailed her, threatened her, refused to allow her to tell him the truth about herself? A man who had the lowest possible opinion of her and yet who, despite that, had still kissed her. How could she? Saskia closed her eyes. She didn’t know the answer to that question. All she knew was that her emotions, her heart, her deepest self were crying out—how could she not love him?
* * *
‘SUNBATHING? I NEVER thought I’d see the day when you would just laze around,’ Pia teased Andreas as she came hurrying out of the villa in the tiniest little bikini Saskia had ever seen and curled up on the vacant sun bed next to where Saskia was lying.
‘Saskia didn’t have a good night. She needs to rest and I didn’t want her overdoing things or lying too long in our strong sun,’ Andreas lied unblushingly to his sister.
‘Oh, poor you,’ Pia immediately sympathised with Saskia as she studied her pale face.
Guiltily Saskia said nothing. After all, she could hardly admit that the reason she was so jaded was because she had spent so many of the night hours when she should have been sleeping thinking about, fantasising about the man lying right next to her. In daylight Saskia dared not recall the very personal and intimate nature of her fantasies. She knew that if she did so her face would be as brightly coloured as it was now pale. Mercifully Andreas had put her huge eyes and pale face down to travel tiredness.
‘Well, that’s one improvement you’ve made on my brother’s lifestyle already, Saskia,’ Pia approved with a grin. ‘Normally when he comes to the villa we can’t get him out of the office. When did Grandfather say he is going to arrive?’ she asked Andreas.
‘I must say I’m surprised that your grandfather intends to come to the island at all at the moment,’ Athena answered for Andreas as she and her accountant came out of the villa to join them.
Saskia’s heart sank a little as she saw them. Over breakfast Ari had been so over-fulsome in his praise of her, and so obviously sexually motivated, that she had been glad to escape from him.
As Pia started to frown Athena added maliciously, ‘He isn’t very happy with you right now, Andreas...’
‘My grandfather is never happy with anyone who takes a different view from his,’ Andreas told her dryly. ‘He has a quick temper and a short fuse and thankfully an even shorter memory—’
Andreas had insisted that Saskia was to lie beneath the protection of a sun umbrella because of her fair skin, but as she watched Athena untying the wrap she was wearing to reveal an even smaller bikini than Pia’s, Saskia felt envious of her rich golden tan.
‘How uncomfortable you must be lying in the shade,’ Athena said, adding bitchily, ‘I would hate to have such a pale skin. It always looks so...’
‘Saskia’s skin reminds me of the purest alabaster,’ Andreas interrupted Athena smoothly.
‘Alabaster—oh, but that is so cold.’ Athena smiled, giving Saskia an assessing look. ‘Oh, now you are frowning and looking grumpy,’ she told Andreas softly, ‘and I know just the cure for that. Let me put some oil on for you, Andreas, and then...’
Saskia could hardly believe it when she heard herself saying firmly, ‘I’ll do that for you, darling.’ Turning to look at Athena, she added boldly, ‘A fiancée’s privilege.’ And then, ignoring both the frowning look Andreas was giving her and her own shaking hands, she got up off her sun lounger, took the bottle of oil Pia was offering her with an approving smile and walked over to where Andreas was lying.
Very carefully Saskia poured a little of the oil into her cupped hand and then, even more carefully, leaned over Andreas’s prone body, making sure as she did so that she stood between his sun bed and the one Athena was reclining on in a pose carefully designed to flaunt to full effect her generous breasts.
Saskia’s hair swung over her face as she nervously started to smooth the oil over Andreas shoulders. His skin felt warm and sleek beneath her touch. As sleek as it had looked last night. She paused as her hands began to tremble. Last night! She must not think about that now. But somehow she found herself doing so; somehow, too, her hands were moving sensually against his skin, stroking, smoothing, even kneading instinctively when she found that his muscles were bunching beneath her touch.
He had been lying on his stomach with his eyes closed, but suddenly they opened and he told her abruptly, ‘That’s enough. I was about to go for a swim anyway.’
Even so it was still several seconds before he actually got up and walked away from her to the end of the pool, diving in cleanly and then swimming virtually a full length beneath the water before resurfacing and starting to lap the pool with a hard, fast-paced crawl.
Andreas tried to concentrate on what he was doing, to empty his head of any thoughts as he always did when he was swimming. It was his favourite way of relaxing—or at least it had been. Right now the last thing he felt was relaxed. Even without closing his eyes he could still remember exactly how it had felt to have Saskia’s hands moving over his body, soft, caressing...knowing...
He slid beneath the water, swimming under it as he tried to control his aching body. God, but he wanted her; ached for her; lusted for her. He had never felt like this about anyone before, never needed anyone with such an intensity, never been in a situation where he simply could not control himself either physically or emotionally. She must know what she was doing to him, a woman of her experience...a woman who prowled bars at night looking for a man. Of course she must; of course she did. And yet...
And yet he couldn’t stop himself from contrasting what he knew cerebrally about her with the way she had felt in his arms, the soft, hot sweetness of her kiss, the desire hazing her eyes and the shock which had later replaced it. She had caught him off guard just now, when she had refused to allow Athena to touch him—caught him off guard and filled him with a certain hot male triumph and pride that she should feel so possessive about him. But of course she didn’t—did she? She was simply acting, playing out the role he had forced her into.
Andreas frowned. His own mental use of the word ‘forced’ and the admission which it brought rasped against his conscience like sandpaper. It was wholly out of character for him, against his strongest held beliefs to force anyone to do anything, but he had begun to fear he could find no way out of the present situation without endangering his grandfather’s health. What he was offering was an explanation, not an excuse, he warned himself sternly and if he had now discovered that he had merely exchanged one hazard for another which was even more potentially dangerous then he had no one but himself to blame.
Had Saskia seen that betraying surge of his body before he had turned away from her? Athena had. Athena... Andreas’s mouth hardened.
At fifteen, and still a schoolboy, he had tried to convince himself that he was mature enough to take over his father’s role, strong enough to support and protect his mother and his sisters. But a part of him had still been childish and he had often ended up crying alone at night in his bed, confused and angry and missing his father, wondering furiously why he had had to die.
That period had surely been the worst of his life: the loss of his father and then Athena’s attempt to seduce him. Two events which together had propelled him into an adulthood and maturity he had in no way been prepared for.
Athena’s desire for him had held none of the classic ‘Mrs Robinson’ allure. She had been coming on to him for weeks, ever since he had returned home from school for the summer holidays, but he had never dreamed that she was doing anything other than
playing some mysterious adult female game that was beyond his ability to comprehend—until the day he had found her in his room—naked!
When she had handed him the vibrator she was stroking herself with, commanding him to use it on her, it had been all he could do not to turn on his heels and run. But boys ran, and he hadn’t wanted to be a boy, but a man...the man his father would have wanted him to be, the man his mother and sisters needed him to be.
‘I don’t think you should be in here, do you?’ he had asked her woodenly, avoiding looking at her naked body. ‘You are engaged to be married.’
She had laughed at him then, but she hadn’t been laughing later, when he had held open his bedroom door and commanded her to leave, warning her that if she didn’t he would have no compunction in getting a couple of members of staff to physically remove her.
She had gone, but not immediately, not until she had tried to change his mind.
‘You have a man’s body,’ she had told him angrily. ‘But like a fool you have no knowledge of what to do with it. Why won’t you let me show you?’ she had coaxed. ‘What is it you are so afraid of?’
‘I’m not afraid,’ he had responded stoically, and truthfully. It hadn’t been fear that had stopped him from taking advantage of what she was offering but anger and loathing.
But Athena was a woman who couldn’t endure to accept that he didn’t want her. Tough! Her feelings, if she genuinely had any—which he personally doubted—were her problem. His grandfather was a very different matter, though, and even without the cloud currently hanging over his health, Andreas would have been reluctant to quarrel with him—though he felt that the old man was being both stubborn and difficult. How much of the blame for that lay with Athena and how much with his grandfather’s fiercely guarded fear of growing old and the future Andreas could only hazard a guess at.
It was ironic, really, that the means he had adopted to help him overcome his problems should have resulted in causing him even more. An example, perhaps, of the modern-day ethos behind the ancient Greek mythology Saskia had expressed a love of. She might love Greek mythology but she most certainly did not love him. Andreas frowned, not wanting to pursue such a line of thought.
