by Julia James
And there she could speak only one word—only one.
‘Nikos,’ she breathed.
She was his. His again. But not as she had been before. Because now his heart was not hardened towards her. Now she was not the woman he must take control of to prevent her exploiting him and his mother any further. She was not the woman he’d cynically, deliberately seduced, succumbing to a desire that he’d needed a reason to slake, allowing him to take her, enjoy her—and still despise her.
Now she was his only because he wanted her—wanted to move his hand over her bare shoulder, feeling the softness of her pale skin, easing aside the chiffon material to free her other shoulder so he could glide his lips along it, even as his fingers went to the zip at the back of the dress. He slid it down in one single long movement, so that the dress fell from her in a shimmer of gossamer, and he turned her, boneless in his hands, to face him.
His breath caught. She was so beautiful! Her rounded breasts, bared to him again, were already swelling to his gaze, and the slender pliancy of her waist awaited his caress. Around her hips there was only a wisp of lace, enticing more than it revealed.
She opened to him willingly, ardently, and his mouth played with hers, each touch, each intimate caress, arousing him yet more and more.
And then her fingers were at his throat, teasing apart the tight knot of his dress tie, slipping the buttons of his shirt, first one and then another, until even as he was kissing her she was baring his body for her own delight, easing his shirt from the confines of his belted hips. He revelled in the feel of her delicate fingertips exploring his torso, revelled yet more in the flatness of her palms smoothing over him, and then, pulling away from her, he shrugged off his jacket, the remains of his shirt.
She stood watching him, even as she had watched him strip down on the beach on Sospiris, when he had first realised his own desire for her. His hands went to his waist, unbuckling his belt, slipping the metal hook, the zip…
He watched her watching him…
With a little cry she turned away, as if she had been caught out, guilty, and he gave a laugh, catching her in his arms even as she turned.
‘No shyness! This is for us both, my most beautiful Ann…’
He swept her up, taking her across to the bed, pulling back the coverings and lowering her down on to the sheets where she lay, hair spilling like a silvered flag, her pale body exquisitely beautiful to him. Then he stripped off the rest of his clothes and came down beside her.
He feasted on her. Every morsel of her body was his delight, his pleasure, his to enjoy. As was his body for her. Caressing and arousing, he felt the blood pulse strongly in his veins, and desire—strong and untrammelled—coursed powerfully through him. She was everything he wanted—everything! The bounty of her breasts, the glory of her hair, the sweetness of her mouth, the silk of her skin, and—most glorious of all—the richness of her dewing body, opening to his, drawing him in. She clung to him, hands meshed with his so tightly their palms were sealed, her spine arching, lips parted, eyes glazed as she gazed up into his eyes that were devouring hers. And all the time he thrust within her, taking her with him, onwards, onwards to that place that awaited them both.
It took them in, turning the world to searing glory in a heat so fierce he cried out—a low, guttural cry that found an echo, higher, finer, which melded into the fire in which they writhed together.
And then the coming down—the slow, heavy exhaustion of the body that took him back from the furnace and made him fold her sated body to his, panting, breathless, still quivering, clinging to him as if he were the only still point after the passion that had consumed them both.
She lay in the circle of his arms, exhausted, weak, and gradually he could feel his hectic pulse slow. His own breathing started to ease, and his eyelids felt heavy, so very heavy, so that all he could do was pull the covers over them, hold her stilling body more tightly to him yet, and give himself up into the oblivion that reached for him. His last awareness was of how good, how very, very good it felt to have her body so close, so closely entwined with his.
The place it should be.
The place it would be.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
ARI WAS CHATTERING, telling them all about what he had seen from the rooftop of Notre Dame, and Ann and Nikos were smiling indulgently at him. But beneath the table in the restaurant where they were having lunch, they were holding hands. Such a simple gesture, thought Ann, and yet it felt so magical.
But then the whole world had turned to magic.
She’d been mad, she knew, to succumb as she had last night. But how could she have resisted? It was impossible to resist Nikos Theakis. Impossible! Even while he had made no secret of his contempt for her it had been all but impossible to resist him—but now… Her insides squeezed flutteringly. Now that he was being so…so nice to her, the very thought of trying to resist him was…impossible.
Yet even as she’d given herself to him—unresisting, quickening with a desire that had swept her into his arms, his bed—she’d known not just that she was mad, but that she was lighting a fire that would be far, far harder to douse this time. Before, she had found the strength to resist him in his vileness to her.
But now, how many days—how many nights—did they have left? Nikos had said nothing of how long he wanted to stay in Paris, but Tina would be back from honeymoon soon, and surely then he’d be returning to Greece with Ari?
Perhaps only a few days—only one or two—but I will take them—take them and not think about anything else—anything else at all!
It was, she knew, the only policy that made sense in the middle of this madness she was permitting. But what else could she do? It was too late now for sanity to prevail. Last night had proved that—overwhelmingly, consumingly—with memories so vivid, so wonderful, she dared not let them into her head now, lest they show blatantly in her eyes, her expression. And then Nikos would know, and then desire would leap between them, as it had done again and again through out the long, magical night they had spent together, until dawn had crept in over the rooftops of Paris.
But if the night had been for Nikos, then the day must only be for Ari—the reason they were here.
After lunch they went to the Luxembourg Gardens on the Left Bank, where Ari enjoyed himself at a children’s playground and sandpit until it was time for an ice-cream while he watched the marionette theatre, hardly needing his uncle’s translation of the traditional fairy tale depicted. After that came another ride on his beloved Metro, to a destination that left Ari speechless with glee—the descent into the sewers of Paris.
‘I will explain everything to you while we are here, but it is not to be a subject for discussion over meals, Ari!’ said his uncle sternly.
Nevertheless, the subject recurred, as Ann had known it would, over Ari’s bathtime. He watched with a knowing eye as the water drained away, and explained its destination to her.
‘Very good, Ari,’ said Nikos from the doorway. ‘And now I shall read your bedtime story while Auntie Annie makes herself even more beautiful than she always is.’
His eyes went to her, and their message was clear.
That evening they dined in the suite, with Ari fast asleep in Ann’s room. They did not linger over their meal, superb as it was, washed down by vintage champagne. Instead, Nikos suffered her to swiftly check on Ari, before taking her to bed. And there in his arms she found a bliss that was unimaginable, sweeter, more wonderful, more thrilling than even the night before.
Afterwards, lying in the cradle of his arms, she wondered anew at the insanity of what she was committing, but she knew it was too late, and she was too helpless to resist. She shut her eyes to everything but the moment, content only to feel Nikos’ strong arms enfolding her, to feel the beat of his heart beneath her cheek, the scent and taste of his body in her mouth as sleep washed over her.
But that sleep was rudely disturbed when more than the morning’s sunlight pierced her slumber. Ari, waking to
every expectation of another fun-filled day, had come to find her.
He bounced vigorously on the bed. ‘Time to get up! Time to get up!’ he enthused, landing with a thump.
As Ann stirred, and Nikos too, she saw Ari regarding them with keen interest.
‘Mummies and daddies sleep in the same bed,’ he pronounced. ‘Well, so do uncles and aunties sometimes,’ responded Nikos, sitting up, stretching his fantastic physique and looking not a whit abashed at being so discovered.
‘Where are we going today?’ asked Ari, accepting his uncle’s comment without demur.
‘A surprise,’ said Nikos promptly.
He would not be drawn, despite his nephew’s constant plaguing, but after breakfast a car was waiting for them, and it drove them out of Paris.
The surprise was another theme park.
‘You’re a glutton for punishment,’ murmured Ann to Nikos, as they set off round the park for a day of rides and children’s treats.
‘But I have my reward waiting for me,’ he replied, his dark eyes glinting, and Ann felt heat flush through her skin. But even as it did she saw his expression change, become almost thoughtful for a moment, as if something had struck him.
She saw that look again during the day, from time to time, and sometimes, despite Ari’s unbridled glee, Nikos seemed abstracted—his mind elsewhere. Perhaps he was thinking about work? thought Ann. Because surely he must be keen to get back to Athens?
She felt a pang go through her at the thought. Was this their last day together—tonight their last night? And what would come tomorrow? A car to the airport and Nikos and Ari heading back to Greece? Herself on a flight to London? To see Ari again—when?
And Nikos?
It was like a knife blade slipping into her. Silent. Deadly. And as it did so she felt the breath empty her lungs.
I can’t bear to lose him!
She knew with every fibre of her being that there could never be another man like him in her life.
Knew as if a cold hand clutched her that for him she was just one more woman.
Yet it was so easy to forget that—dangerously easy. Not just when she clung to him in passion, or in the aftermath of passion, but during the day, when they were with Ari, together. As if—her heart squeezed—as if they were a family…
But they weren’t—it was temporary, illusory, and that was all.
And yet the following day, when Nikos announced at breakfast that they were going to spend the weekend in Normandy, her spirits soared.
The elegant château hotel Nikos had booked was only a few miles from the coast, and their days were spent with Ari on the wide sandy beaches, and the nights entwined in the four-poster bed—with Ari, fast asleep from his exertions, in the connecting room.
It was over breakfast in their bedroom on the last morning that Nikos spoke to her. Ari was next door, watching cartoons on satellite TV.
‘So, our little holiday is over and we must go home.’
Immediately Ann felt a chill numbness seize her. So this was the moment she had been dreading. The parting of the ways was upon her. She to return to London, Nikos and Ari to Greece. Even though she had known this moment must come, yet now it was here she felt as if a knife were sliding slowly into her.
Worse, far worse, than she had ever imagined it would be.
She felt the blood drumming in her head and fought for composure—outward at least, for inward was impossible. Yet even as she tried to control herself she became aware of what Nikos was saying next.
His eyes were resting on her with a strange expression in them. ‘I want you to come back with us. Make your home on Sospiris.’
She could only stare, wordlessly.
His mouth twisted with wry self-mockery. ‘Yes, you can stare, Ann. After everything I’ve thrown at you about not thinking you can insinuate yourself into our family. But obviously things are different now. Your making your home on Sospiris is the ideal answer. It ticks every box. You will be with Ari, and he with you. You get on excellently with my mother and Eupheme, and they both sing your praises—more than I have done!’ he allowed, with the same wry expression. Then his expression changed. ‘And best of all, Ann—’ he picked up her hand and grazed the tips of her fingers sensuously with his lips ‘—we can still be together.’
His eyes were lambent, clear in their intent.
She waited for the leap in her spirits to come, for relief to flood through her at the blissful knowledge that she was not to be sent away after all, that Nikos still wanted her.
But it didn’t come. Only a cold chill seeped through her skin. She heard herself speak, and hardly believed the words she was saying.
‘I can’t come back to Sospiris.’
She watched his expression change, as if everything were happening in slow motion.
‘What are you saying?’
‘I can’t come back to Sospiris.’ The brief words sounded so blunt, so harsh, but she said them again all the same.
His brows drew together, and he let go of her hand. In an instant he was not Nikos her lover, but Nikos Theakis to whom people did not say no…
Not even the woman he wanted to keep as an on-tap mistress in his home, spending her days with his nephew and her nights in his bed. A convenient mistress—there when he wanted her, while he wanted her. And when he no longer did—well, she’d still be looking after Ari.
She took a breath. A sharp one that cut like a knife. ‘I have a life of my own. One I can’t abandon indefinitely.’
His face had stilled. ‘So this was nothing more than a passing amusement for you, was it?’
His voice cut as sharply as the breath in her lungs.
‘There’s nothing else it could be, Nikos. It’s been a… a holiday. Wonderful, but—’ another breath razored in her lungs ‘—now it’s over.’
Even as she spoke her mind was shouting at her—urgently, desperately! Don’t say such things! Don’t turn down what he is offering! Take it, grab it, seize it with both hands!
But if she did—
The cold iced through her again. The icy cold of standing on the top of an Arctic crevasse. One wrong step and she would plunge down into its fatal depths. Her eyes went to him—went to the man who, night after night, had taken her into such bliss as she had never known, never could know again, whose arms had embraced her, whose kisses had melted her, whose smile alone warmed her like a living flame.
If I go back to Sospiris now—if I continue our affair—there can be only one ending, one fate for me.
A fate as clear to her here, now, as if it were already fulfilled. She said the words in her mind—forced herself to say them, to make very, very sure she faced up to them.
If I go back to Sospiris I will fall in love with him. Because already I stand on the brink of it—already I feel his power over me. But to him I will only ever be one more woman out of many. And one day he will have no more interest in me…
‘And what about Ari?’ Nikos’s voice, still cutting, still cold, sounded again. ‘You’re just going to walk away from him?’
She felt her heart squeeze. ‘It’s for the best. I won’t be out of his life. I can visit—or perhaps we can meet up. Your mother has been most generous in assuring me I am welcome for another holiday.’
‘And that’s all? All you’re prepared to do? Very well.’
Abruptly, he got to his feet, looking down at her a moment. His face was closed. Closed to her completely. The way it had been for so, so long, until this brief, precarious truce had formed between them and this even briefer affair.
‘Then there is no more to be said,’ he finished. For one last moment he looked down at her, and for a second so brief she knew she must have only imagined it she saw something in his eyes—something that shook her. Then it was gone. Shuttered and veiled and closed down.
‘You can have the task of telling Ari,’ he said curtly. ‘Since I’ll be the one to mop his tears at losing you.’
She said nothing. Her heart was hea
vy enough as it was. Inside her head the voice was still shouting—telling her it wasn’t too late, that there was still time to say she’d been an idiot, that of course she would jump ten feet at the chance to live on Sospiris, to take of him anything and everything she could, while she could, and not count the cost—never count the cost—until the bill had to be paid…
But when it does, it will be agony. So go—go now—while you can—while you can escape. Escape a fate that will be unbearable—year after year of watching Ari grow and knowing that Nikos has left you far behind…
She couldn’t face it. Not even to stop Ari’s tears, which came, as Nikos had said they would, despite all she could say to comfort him.
‘I’ll come and see you again, poppet. You know I will. Ya-ya has said so. And when you go back home Tina will be back—she’ll want to know all about your lovely, lovely holiday…’
‘But I want you, too—as well as Tina!’ wailed Ari disconsolately.
Parting from him at the airport tore her, and yet again the voice in her head shouted at her to change her mind, recant, to go with them back to Greece, not board a lonely flight to London. But she had to do it—she knew she had to do it.
The pain now is bad, but it is to save myself worse pain. So I have to clutch that sanity, that sense, and take the lesser pain now. Whatever it costs me. Before it’s too late.
But even as her plane landed at Heathrow, she knew, with a crushing of her heart, that it was already far too late. She was not standing on the brink of the abyss. She had already fallen deep, deep, deep into its fatal heart.
