Savage Seduction

by Sharon Kendrick

  None.

  Jade forced herself to apply her attention towards the food, which was surprisingly good and simple. They ate Greek salad, scarlet with tomatoes and white with feta cheese and black with olives, with strong olive oil drizzled all over it. ‘And what do you do in England?’ he pursued.

  ‘Oh, it’s just a boring old typing job,’ she said vaguely. True, although she knew she was being economical with the truth—but what if he had the rest of the world’s prejudices about tabloid journalists? The evening would be ruined before it had even got started. She dipped some bread into the olive oil, then ate it. ‘And how about you? Are you a waiter at your family’s restaurant?’

  He paused with the fork halfway to his mouth, and the corners of his mouth twitched before he laid it down on his plate. ‘Sometimes,’ he said. ‘And I help them—balance the books—as the English say.’

  She looked around her and breathed in the scented air. ‘It must be a heavenly place to live,’ she told him.

  ‘Oh, it is,’ he agreed gravely. ‘Indeed, it is.’

  And after that the evening seemed to get better and better.

  ‘You have brothers and sisters?’ he asked.

  Jade took a large swallow of wine. ‘No. And you?’

  Something indefinable came into his eyes as he shook his head. ‘Just a brother. And a—’ He hesitated, momentarily. ‘Step-sister. But I like big families. And you?’

  It was something she had never, ever considered until this moment. Children were somewhere off in a hazy, rosy future which she’d somehow never im- agined happening, not to her. She had never given much thought to children, but tonight she was, and she had the strongest suspicion that he was, too. She remembered their eyes meeting over the head of the tousle-haired toddler, of that spark which had flown between the two of them; a spark born out of mutual need and understanding. But what on earth was she admitting to? That she wanted to stay here and have his children? To live on a Greek island with one of its inhabitants? She, who had always been so ambitious, so determined to succeed?

  Yes, yes, yes!

  ‘What’s the matter?’ He interrupted her silence. ’You don’t approve of big families?’

  As the truth dawned on her, it felt like coming home. ‘Oh, no—I absolutely love them!’

  He smiled, his eyes gently sweeping over her shining eyes, her dazzling smile. ‘I’m glad,’ he said softly.

  Never had a meal seemed to take so long; Jade had no appetite for it. She remembered having odd dates where the meal had assumed the greatest im- portance because the man she was out with had seemed so dull. And yet tonight—delicious as the barbouni smelt, and however sweet and succulent its flesh, she couldn’t wait to be away from here, to be some place alone with Constantine, to taste the delights of his lips, discover the safety of his arms.

  At last they were away and walking back down the dusty road, until they reached her cottage. He hadn’t tried to kiss her, not once, and when they stood outside her door Jade turned to him in confusion.

  He nodded as he read her eyes. ‘Not tonight, agape mou.’ And then he said something in Greek softly beneath his breath.

  ‘What did you just say?’

  He gave a soft laugh. ‘Epikindhinos. It means dangerous. Just like you. There is danger in the witchy slant of your eyes, in the pale waterfall of your hair. And the dangers that lie within those dark red lips, and all the secret places of your body—ah! They are too manifold even to dare to imagine!’

  Jade found herself laughing at his extravagance; somehow he had turned the tension into humour, and she found herself admiring him for it. The first man who hadn’t tried to leap on her on a first date. Typical that it should be the only one she’d ever wanted to!

  He picked up her hand and carried it to his lips, placed a fleeting kiss there. ‘We shall spend the day together tomorrow.’

  ‘Doing what?’

  There was a fleetingly ruthless smile. ‘Doing our best not to make love. Being—circumspect. That is what we must do. And now, my golden-haired angel—go and sleep. Dream of me until I arrive tomorrow morning.’

  Not surprisingly, she did dream of him, and wonderful dreams they were, too—but the reality of the real man who arrived the following morning at eight o’clock far outshone the dream version.

  He spent three days doing exactly what he had said he would do—being circumspect.

  Jade was flattered; and frustrated.

  She knew how much he wanted her, and how much she ached just to have him kiss her, but he didn’t.

  Instead, he took her snorkelling, took her round the island on the back of his motorcycle. They swam and they picnicked. He taught her elementary Greek and backgammon—he beat her—and she taught him some very corny jokes and Scrabble—she beat him. She never met a member of his family, and he seemed as reluctant to discuss his ‘other’ life as she was, and Jade found it very easy to simply put her London life into a compartment of her mind, and forget all about it.

  For those three days they were together from early morning until midnight, and it was as though no world existed for them bar the island. There was no past; the future they did not dare to touch upon; instead there was just the glorious and golden present.

  And then her last day arrived. They spent a morning snorkelling off a beach which was almost deserted, lunching again in the small restaurant which had become their regular haunt and where Kris, the owner, spent the whole time virtually bowing to Constantine.

  He seemed terribly well respected, thought Jade, as she accepted the metaliko nero—mineral water— he handed her.

  But as the day wore on, they both grew notice- ably quieter and eventually he took her back to the cottage.

  ‘Where shall we eat tonight?’

  It was hard to be enthusiastic. Impossible, in fact. ’I don’t mind.’

  ‘It’s your last night,’ he said, and there was a strange, almost savage note to his voice.

  ‘Yes.’ She stared up, found herself mesmerised by the ebony glitter of his eyes. She saw that a pulse worked frantically in the side of his cheek. Her own pulse hammered; her mouth dried like dust and she found herself moistening her lips with the tip of her tongue, then blushed scarlet when his eyes nar- rowed as they watched the movement, afraid that he would interpret it as one of deliberate provo- cation. Embarrassed, she made to turn away, but he stopped her with one strong olive hand on the bare flesh of her upper arm.

  ‘Where do you want to go tonight?’ he repeated.

  There was a pause. ‘Nowhere,’ she said quietly and honestly.

  ‘We can’t stay here,’ he said, almost savagely.

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘You know why not.’

  ‘OK, then, Constantine—you tell me where you’d like to go tonight?’

  There was a long pause. ‘Nowhere,’ he said softly. His voice was unsteady as he spoke. ‘I think that our days of being circumspect are numbered, don’t you, agape mou?’

  She was aware of the enormity of the question. Head bent, she nodded silently.

  ‘Look at me,’ he whispered. ‘Jade. Please.’

  Slowly, slowly, she raised her head. His eyes were dark.

  ‘I’m almost afraid to kiss you,’ he said huskily.

  ‘I can’t imagine you being afraid of anything, Constantine.’

  ‘Not even of losing my sanity, my reason?’

  ‘Then you’d better not kiss me,’ she said firmly. ’I don’t want to be responsible for—oh,’ the gasp became an exultant little sigh as he locked her in his arms, his heart thundering against her breast. Breathlessly, she waited with longing for his lips.

  ‘Not kiss you?’ It was a soft, mocking taunt. ‘I must. If only to tell myself that this is all some foolish fantasy…’

  His head came down and his mouth imprisoned her in a sensual trap from which she never wanted to escape. He tasted of wine, and of honey. He tasted of man, primitive man; hot, hungry, and very, very aroused.

&nbs
p; His kiss was soft and sweet, cajoling her re- sponse, so that her lips opened for him, and she heard him make a murmured appraisal as he licked his way into her mouth. She opened her mouth wider, felt their tongues link together as the kiss deepened with an intensity which was shattering.

  Jade could feel her breasts tingling as she lifted her arms up with a helpless sigh to lock them around his neck, her fingers drifting upwards to entwine themselves in the black richness of his hair.

  He lifted his mouth away from hers and stared down into her upturned face, the feverish glitter in his eyes as bright as moonlight. Very slowly and deliberately, he pulled her closer, so that she could feel the shocking potency of his arousal.

  Except that it did not shock her; it thrilled her immeasurably. She wanted that; him. Deep within her. She wanted their bodies locked in the most basic physical communion of all. She stared back at him, rocked at the strength of her feelings, her eyes dark, her lips trembling.

  ‘Jade,’ he said softly, and now the accent was more pronounced than she’d ever heard it. ‘Do you know how much I want to make love to you?’

  ‘Yes’ she answered quietly. There was the evi- dence of that powerfully hard shaft which pushed against her lower belly through the filmy white voile of her dress—but she could have read his desire just as easily in the incandescent depths of his night- dark eyes. And his mouth, too, was trembling, as though what was happening to them had startled him, too.

  ‘I want to touch your breasts,’ he whispered against her mouth. ‘To touch them until I know them better than you do,’ and before she could say or do a thing he had pulled the silk T-shirt from beneath her belt, and was peeling it off and over her head, so that she stood before him, naked to the waist, her skin gilded golden and crimson by the dying light of the sun, her hair as bright and as glimmering as the stars which would later appear.

  He just gazed down at her breasts, as if com- mitting them to memory, nodding his head as he did so. ‘I knew that you wore nothing beneath,’ he murmured. ‘Your breasts are small, yes, but all day long they have been aching, haven’t they, Jade?’

  She swallowed. This was madness. ‘Yes,’ she whispered.

  ‘Waiting for my touch,’ he murmured, and he cupped one small mound in the palm of his hand, his thumb reaching out to stroke with tantalising skill at the stiffened nub of her nipple.

  ‘Oh!’ breathed Jade, on a strangled note of dis- belief, and her knees buckled beneath her, but he caught her, pulling her roughly into his arms, his mouth against hers.

  ‘Let’s go to bed,’ he said, almost harshly.

  Jade’s eyelids fluttered open as she sought to reason with herself. She was alone in the middle of nowhere, with a man intent on making love to her. And she couldn’t, she realised, on a shuddering sigh… she couldn’t stop him; even if she wanted to.

  And she didn’t want to.

  She was on fire with some strange magic, caught up in the throes of a spell so powerful that she felt she would die if he left her.

  Was there, she wondered foggily as he picked her up and carried her into the cottage—was there such a thing as love at first sight?

  Yes! she thought fiercely, and she reached up for him, and he dropped his mouth to hers again, kissing her as he walked until they were in her bedroom.

  He laid her on the bed while he shrugged his way out of the white shirt he wore, and she saw the heaving of the powerful chest as he struggled to maintain his breathing, his eyes never leaving her.

  Then he came to her, both of them half-naked, his eyes surprisingly soft as he looked down into her face. ‘I have never desired a woman so badly,’ he said, but his voice held an almost savage note to it, as though he was admitting to being fallible, and that infallibility came much more easily to him. ’Do you believe me when I tell you that?’

  It didn’t even occur to her to doubt it. ‘Yes.’

  He dipped his head to one breast, catching one hard and pointed little tip between his teeth, teasing and tasting and tantalisingly grazing it, until her eyes closed and her head fell back, and she felt herself being sucked into an erotic vortex from which there could be no escape. She opened her eyes, suddenly frightened by behaviour which was so primitive, so out of character for her.

  He needed to know that, she decided. And she needed him to know that.

  ‘Constantine,’ she said suddenly, and he looked up.

  ‘What is it, agape mou?’ From beneath hooded eyes she could see the opaque glaze of desire.

  Her gaze was drawn irresistibly down his body where she could see the powerful thrust of his thighs; see too the sheer male strength and power of his arousal which was pushing insistently against the fine linen of the trousers he wore. She imagined him in the act of love, filling her with himself, found herself wondering briefly whether it would hurt, yet knowing that even if it did it would only be the prelude to unimaginable pleasure. She trickled her fingertips over the thick, dark whorls of chest hair, alighting at last on one small male nipple, and she felt him shudder beneath her touch.

  ‘What is it?’ he asked harshly.

  Jade took a deep breath. He needed to know. ‘I’ve never…’ Her voice tailed off, embarrassed.

  He stilled instantly, his fingers halting their rhythmic caress of her breasts, his eyes narrowing to charcoal shards. ‘What?’ he whispered, his voice dangerously soft.

  ‘I’ve never—done—well, this… before.’

  ‘You’re saying—’

  She nodded, swallowing, suddenly regretting that she’d opened her mouth. ‘Yes. I’m a virgin, Constantine.’

  He swore softly and profanely, and in more than one language, Jade thought, when to her horror and consternation he tore himself away from her and got up from the bed.

  ‘Constantine.’ She sat up, the white-blonde hair falling all over her bare breasts, and she heard him say something else, but this time she did not think that he swore; something soft and emphatic and very Greek, before turning his back to her.

  ‘Put something on,’ he commanded harshly.

  ‘But—’

  ‘Something to cover yourself. Do it now, Jade.’

  Her silky T-shirt lay on the courtyard floor. In a confused daze, Jade climbed off the bed and foraged around in the old chest of drawers before extracting another T-shirt, not caring what colour it was or that it was inside out. Weary and sick at heart, she pulled it on and sat down on the bed.

  Constantine had put his shirt back on and was buttoning it up with inelegant haste.

  Jade watched him in bewilderment. Why on earth was he behaving this way, thrusting her away from him as if she were a hot potato?

  He met her eyes again as he moved to sit beside her on the bed, putting one arm about her shoulder, as a doctor would to a patient to whom he was going to break bad news. He had decided that, for some reason, he no longer wanted her. OK. Fine. But Jade just wished he would go. Let her be humili- ated in peace.

  With one finger he lifted her chin up, so that she was imprisoned in the febrile glitter of his eyes. ‘Why so sad, agape mou?’ he queried.

  She tried, fruitlessly, to shake the finger away. ‘Just go away! Leave me!’

  ‘You want me to?’

  ‘Yes!’

  ‘No. You want to know why I stopped?’

  Jade swallowed. ‘What makes you think that I wouldn’t have stopped you myself?’

  There was the trace of an arrogant smile. ‘Be- cause you were ready for me—’

  It was the cool assurance that galled her most, even though she knew that he was being nothing but honest. ‘Why—?’ she raised her hand, but he caught it, pressed the palm to his lips and kissed it.

  ‘You’ve been ready for me for days now. You wanted me to take you, to fill you, to make love to you until you cried out. Again and again and again. As you have wanted from the first moment we met. And I would have done that, Jade. Don’t you think I don’t want that, too? Quite desperately?’

  All her insecuriti
es came swimming to the surface. ‘Then you don’t respect me,’ she stated.

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘Because I would have—have—’

  ‘You would have let me?’

  ‘Yes,’ she admitted unhappily.

  He caught both her hands in his. ‘And that is exactly as it should be between a man and a woman. Honesty and passion, no games or pretence—now that I respect. But you are leaving tomorrow, Jade. It is not a satisfactory way to begin a relationship and certainly not your first—a night of passion and then a parting. And then I did not imagine for a moment that you would be a virgin.’

  That hurt. ‘Why ever not?’ she demanded.

  He shrugged. ‘Because English women do not guard their virtue so carefully. And most English women that I have met…’ He gave a little movement of his shoulders, as if he was being diplomatic in not completing the sentence.

  Jade felt absolutely furious. Not only had he shown that he no longer found her attractive, but now he was denigrating English women in general! ’I suppose you’ve had hundreds of English women?’ she accused.

  ‘Not at all,’ he answered, unperturbed.

  ‘What we don’t do,’ she said cuttingly, ‘is use our virginity as some kind of bartering tool in the marriage market—’

  ‘Enough!’ he told her sternly, and caught both her hands in his. She angrily tried to shake her hands free, but he held them too securely.

  ‘No, it is damned well not enough! I suppose I should be grateful that you didn’t take advantage of me!’ she lashed out at him. ‘Do you like your women more experienced? Better used to casual sex? Less troublesome to the conscience, I suppose?’

  Savagery returned to distort the handsome fea- tures into an impenetrable mask. ‘Do you think I am that kind of man?’ he demanded fiercely, and his accent became more Greek by the second; his presence more dominating. ‘One who wants or even needs this one-night stand that you speak of? There is no joy in sex of that nature, and besides that there is something much more fundamental at stake here. You see,’ I have fallen in love with you.’