A Consequence Made in Greece

by Annie West

  He finished using his towel and spread it in the shadow of the white cliff that loomed behind their seaside platform.

  Cora looked around for somewhere to lay her own towel while they sat and shared the food they’d brought, but space was small and there was nowhere left but beside Strato’s. Telling herself it didn’t matter because he’d dropped that sexually charged attitude, she spread her towel next to his.

  It made her wonder if perhaps he wasn’t as attracted as he made out, that he could turn it off so easily whereas she...

  ‘I promised I wouldn’t cut it.’ Cora settled on the towel and nodded her thanks as he passed her a water bottle. ‘When I was younger Doris was afraid I’d turn into a complete tomboy and made me promise not to cut it. I wasn’t good at cooking or sewing, or behaving like a good Greek housewife, all the things she tried to teach me, so it seemed a fair compromise. My father backed her up. Said it reminded him of my mother’s long hair.’

  That had been enough to convince Cora. Even now, the regret in her dad’s eyes whenever she mentioned cutting it short stopped her.

  ‘You’re a sentimentalist.’

  She looked up but he wasn’t watching her. Instead he was hauling the cold bag closer.

  Well, she’d wanted him to drop the flirting, hadn’t she?

  Except she couldn’t ignore what he’d said in the boat or the way he made her feel about her body and its increasingly clamorous needs.

  ‘I’m not sure I’d say that.’ She paused and took a long draught of blessedly cool water. ‘But my father and Doris are special. I care about them.’

  Plus there were times, like when Strato complimented her on her hair, that she privately revelled in the flagrantly feminine look. Mostly she was too busy working to think of herself as a sexy woman. Unless she was dealing with sleazy men who thought the generous size of her bust was inversely proportionate to her IQ and that she wanted nothing more from life than to fall into bed with them.

  She’d thought she was good at giving them the brush-off. Till Adrian, who’d tricked her.

  Cora took another swallow of water, rinsing away the sudden sour taste on her tongue, then handed the bottle to Strato.

  His eyes held hers as he lifted it and drank. That now-familiar corkscrewing sensation tightened inside her, drilling down to the aching emptiness within her pelvis. She shifted and looked away, reaching for a tiny tomato and popping it into her mouth.

  It burst in a pop of tangy deliciousness and she tried to concentrate on that, not the fact she’d prefer to taste Strato.

  He’d taste of salt water and—what was the flavour of that dark golden skin? She imagined licking the line of his sternum, straight up the centre of his chest to his throat. Sucking on that full lower lip.

  She gave a shuddery sigh and tried to ignore her tightening nipples.

  ‘More water?’ Strato held out the bottle again.

  ‘Not at the moment.’ Because putting her lips where his had been seemed too intimate.

  ‘There’s wine and beer.’

  ‘I’ll stick with water, thanks.’ It became clearer by the moment that she needed to keep her wits about her. Lest she give away how aware she was of Strato beside her. It was as if a switch had flicked in her brain, as if the companionable hours they’d spent together meant nothing. Because now her mind filled with him and sex.

  Cora passed him a container. ‘Chicken wing?’ Her thoughts strayed to the day they’d met, with him stretched out, naked and mind-bogglingly attractive, and her offering refreshment. It felt a lifetime ago.

  ‘Thanks.’ He took some chicken, biting into it with strong, white teeth.

  Cora took some herself and tried to concentrate on the spicy, marinated meat. But the silence crowded around her.

  ‘You’ve done much snorkelling?’ Maybe she could distract herself with conversation.

  ‘Some.’ He dropped chicken bones into an empty container, his hairy arm not quite brushing hers, making her quiver.

  Cora shot him a sideways glance but he was focused on the aqua and green depths of the sea.

  ‘How about scuba diving?’ she asked eventually. ‘I know an ideal place. Another wreck, but in deeper water.’

  Strato nodded but didn’t turn. ‘Sounds good to me.’

  Yet from this angle he looked to be frowning.

  Cora subsided into silence, her usually reliable appetite fading. Her gaze strayed across his broad back to the scar he’d dismissed as the result of an old accident. Curiosity welled but it was fleeting. She wasn’t concerned with old scars but with what had gone wrong in the last few minutes.

  He was distracted. That wasn’t her problem. It wasn’t her job to entertain him. Yet the change from enthusiastic companion and would-be seducer, to a man barely aware of her presence, jabbed her ego.

  She leaned back on her elbows, looking on the view of their tiny cove. Apart from their small boat there was no sign of people. They were utterly alone.

  Strato continued to ignore her. Last night and this morning they’d spoken easily and he’d been a pleasant companion. This afternoon their communication had mainly been via sign language and occasional nods and grins as they swam. Now they didn’t communicate at all.

  Odd how bereft that made her feel.

  Lying back like this, Cora couldn’t see his face, except for his cheek and the line of his jaw, which she realised was clenched. It matched the hunched line of his shoulders. She shifted, trying to get comfortable, and noticed the tic of Strato’s pulse at his temple. Whatever was on his mind it didn’t look like anything relaxing.

  Maybe she should head back into the water while he worked off what looked like abstraction or a bad mood. But she’d swum enough. It felt good to relax. Or it would if she didn’t increasingly feel tension in the air.

  She shifted again. Her flat rock wasn’t as flat as she’d thought.

  Cora opened her mouth to speak then realised she’d been going to fill the void with chat because Strato’s silence felt brooding. But if he had a problem, it wasn’t up to her to fix it. He was an adult. Let him deal with whatever bothered him.

  Stifling a sigh, she folded her hands behind her head and searched for a comfortable position. That was better—

  ‘If you’ve finished eating we should go back to the yacht.’ His tone was terse.

  ‘The yacht?’ She frowned. ‘You’ve barely rested or eaten anything.’

  ‘I’m not hungry and, believe me, I’m not in the mood to rest.’ His voice held a rough edge, emerging almost as a growl.

  It shouldn’t bother her, but his mood tarnished what had been, for her, a lovely couple of hours. Stupid to feel hurt. The illusion of companionship between them, even liking, flickered and faded. Just as well. She wasn’t looking for a friendship, or anything else from this man.

  Cora rose a little, bracing herself on her elbows. ‘What’s the problem, Strato? You sound like a bear with a sore head. I thought you liked our swim.’

  He nodded but she saw his fist clench at his side, and the tendons stand proud beneath his skin. ‘I did.’

  Just that. No explanation of why they needed to get back to the yacht. Cora sighed and was about to move to pack up their mini picnic when her obstinate side reasserted itself. She refused to tiptoe around this man, second-guessing what she’d done to trigger his temper.

  ‘Then what’s up? Or am I expected to put up with your sudden mood swings? At least you owe me the courtesy of telling me why you’ve suddenly turned sour.’

  ‘You don’t want to know.’

  Cora’s breath hissed between her teeth. She did want to know or she wouldn’t have asked. But she refused to labour the point. She’d met enough selfish men to waste time with this one. She sat up with a jerk and began jamming their provisions into the bag they’d brought ashore.

  In her haste her hand
brushed Strato’s arm.

  He stiffened. His head swung round and her breath jammed back in her throat.

  For the man whose gaze pinioned her to the spot wasn’t the debonair pleasure seeker she knew, or the charming companion of earlier. There was a fierce light in his eyes while his arched nostrils and tightly drawn mouth hinted at strong emotions.

  He looked...elemental. As if spawned from the depths of the ocean or carved from the rock on which they sat. Except he was flesh and blood. She saw the heavy rise of his chest and felt heat radiate from him.

  Cora’s breath seized and his hot gaze slid down to the rise of her breasts, swelling against the black fabric.

  ‘Cora.’ There it was again, that rasping note. A growled warning.

  Suddenly she realised she wasn’t the only one beleaguered by sexual arousal. It was there in the etched lines of Strato’s face and the shimmer of tension between them.

  ‘What don’t I want to know, Strato?’

  She knew, but she wanted to hear him say it. Because suddenly caution and common sense didn’t matter a jot in the face of her compulsion to get close to him.

  His mouth twisted in what she might have thought a sneer if she hadn’t seen the sweat beading his brow. Strato wasn’t bored or moody. He was racked by tension.

  ‘That you’re driving me crazy lying there beside me. That we need to return because I promised I wouldn’t touch you and I don’t break my promises. But I can’t take much more.

  ‘Every time you shift I imagine the feel of your bare skin against mine. The slide of our bodies together. The taste of your orgasm in my mouth. The sound of you screaming when I make you come.’

  He paused, his breath audible in the thick silence. Cora’s own breathing had disintegrated as the visions he conjured stopped her lungs working. Her fingers curled into damp towelling as she clung on tight.

  ‘From the first I’ve wanted you, Cora. From the very first moment.’ His deep voice and frowning face imbued the words with a gravity she felt deep inside. Felt and welcomed because wasn’t that how she’d felt too?

  ‘I want to feel your tight heat welcoming me inside. I want to suck your breasts and ravish every inch of your body until you can’t remember being with any man but me.’

  His massive shoulders rose and fell as he dragged in a slow breath.

  ‘That’s why we need to leave.’

  Yet he made no move. Maybe he too felt glued to the spot.

  Finally she spoke. ‘You haven’t asked me what I want, Strato.’

  His eyes narrowed. ‘What do you want, Cora?’

  For a second she paused, waiting for her protective instincts to kick in. Obviously they were on holiday, or overwhelmed by the inevitable.

  ‘All of the above.’

  She reached for the zip at her throat.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  HE’D DIED AND gone to Heaven.

  Except Strato didn’t believe in Heaven. As he didn’t believe in love or fate or anything except the present and what he could see, hear, taste and touch.

  His lips curled in a smile so tight it hurt his face. He intended to do a lot of looking, listening, tasting and touching.

  He wanted Cora. All of her. In so many ways he’d never be able to satisfy himself today. It would take days, weeks, to work through his fantasies.

  His smile widened as he brushed her hand away and took control of that silver loop on her zip.

  Good thing he had her for the next month. That would give him time to indulge this gnawing hunger.

  He’d planned slow and gentle the first time they were together. Instead he watched his hand tug hard, dragging the zip open with a sibilant hiss, right to the bottom, just above her pubic bone.

  Was she bare down there or was there a triangle of dark silky hair over her mound? He wanted to find out. Except gravity distracted him, in the form of her swimsuit parting over her bounteous breasts, a little further with each short, sharp breath.

  Strato’s gaze fixed there, drawn to those perfect breasts and the way the slick fabric clung to her nipples despite the growing swathe of skin he’d revealed.

  He heard a gasp and dragged his attention to her face. Her lips were parted and eyes narrowed in an unmistakably carnal look.

  He licked his lips, imagining the taste of her mouth, her breasts, her sex. Her eyes widened and so did the gap between the edges of her zip as her beautiful breasts rose and fell sharply.

  Strato knelt astride her, not daring yet to lower himself and lie over her. He might be desperate with want but not so desperate he’d allow this to be over in seconds.

  His penis throbbed at the thought of covering her body with his. Instead he lifted his palm to her throat then stroked down and out, pushing the wet fabric aside to uncover one breast, its pert nipple begging for attention.

  Strato was a generous man. He liked to please his lovers. Obligingly he lowered his head and fastened his mouth there, shaping her breast with his hand as he drew, gently at first, then harder.

  So generous, Doukas! When you’ve been aching to get your hands and mouth on her breasts from that first day!

  She writhed between his knees, hands fastening on his bare shoulders then slipping up to cradle his head. But there was nothing gentle in Cora’s touch. She clamped his skull to her as if fearing he might be lunatic enough to pull away.

  He smiled against her skin, scented with honey, warm woman and the sea, smoothing the fabric off her other breast. It was perfect in his hand. Gently he squeezed as he nipped her flesh and she made a tiny growling noise in the back of her throat that almost undid him.

  Her patience was as fragile as his.

  So he slid his hand down her restless body, past ribs, navel and soft belly, underneath clingy fabric to downy hair and a slick cleft that drew his fingers to her core.

  Another breathy growl and her pelvis tilted, inviting him in. Strato didn’t hesitate. He slid a finger deep, then two, and felt her grip him. He paused, breathing hard, reminding himself to wait.

  But she couldn’t. Her hips rose, her breath coming in frantic puffs, and he pressed down on her bud, circling till she jerked beneath him and cried out.

  Her rapture went on and on, tempting him to join her. But he wanted this to last. For his own pleasure, and, he realised, to imprint on her the fact that he, Strato, was the lover who could give her such delight. He wanted her craving his touch. Not once or twice because maybe it had been a while for her, but because no other man could give her what he could.

  He stilled, stunned by that alien idea. It was almost...possessive. Nothing he’d experienced before. But he was too aroused to spare time thinking.

  Instead, after one last, luscious lick of her breast, he drew his hand up her shuddering body, lifted his head and surveyed his Nereid. Her eyes were closed and her mouth slack with pleasure.

  Good but not good enough. He wanted her eyes fixed on him, alight with the knowledge it was he, Strato, taking her to the stars.

  Gently he moved her arms, helping her out of the swimsuit, dragging it down her yielding body to bare her ribcage, waist and hips, then all the way down and off.

  He’d known she was magnificent. That hourglass figure had snared his attention even covered by baggy shorts and a T-shirt. But knowing and seeing were two different things.

  Lightly, not trusting himself to linger lest he get distracted, Strato skimmed his hands over her, following curves and indents. Her waist was narrow and her hips and breasts beautifully symmetrical. And those legs, long and shapely with toned muscle.

  He was going to enjoy every moment with his new lover.

  He should be crowing at his success, seducing the woman who’d scorned him. But he didn’t feel he’d scored a point. Triumphant yes, but with anticipation. He was too aware of his own hungry yearning.

  His gaze flicked to the
supplies he’d brought and the condoms secreted there. Not yet.

  He pushed open her thighs and settled between her legs, inhaling the perfume of sated woman. But not as sated as she was going to be. One hand beneath her rump angled her pelvis and the other reached to tease her breast as he nuzzled her cleft.

  Instantly her legs tensed around him. Her eyes shot open, dazzled and unfocused. They glowed a rich golden brown that made him think of treasure. Slowly he licked, long and deep, and found his own treasure.

  Cora scrambled up on her elbows, frowning. He licked again, holding her gaze, and he felt her quiver.

  ‘Don’t you want—?’

  ‘Oh, I want, Coritsa. I want all of you. Starting here.’ Holding her gaze, he lowered his mouth.

  There it was again, the glimmer of gold between lustrous dark lashes. Her lips were parted, her face flushed with passion and her eyes intent as he stroked her. She looked beautiful and something in his chest swelled.

  Her eyelids flickered as he nuzzled, devouring the taste of salt and aroused woman. Her breasts rose, peaked nipples jerking high as he caressed her.

  ‘Strato, I...’ Her voice disintegrated on a gasp but the sound of her hoarse voice saying his name was a gift. It echoed in his ears as he took her to the edge. Her toned thighs clamped around his shoulders, her pelvis rising to meet his caresses in a needy rhythm, her heat warming him.

  Through it all, his eyes held hers, watching as, by degrees, she slipped closer to—

  ‘Strato!’ The waves of her climax broke upon her. He felt it so intimately it was like riding the wave himself. Except his groin, rock hard and aching with need, told him otherwise.

  Yet he wouldn’t have missed this. Not when her shout became a moan of delight, formed around his name. Not when her dazed eyes held his as if there were nothing else in the world but him.

  What was this imperative to mark her as his? To fill her consciousness with him so she didn’t think of anyone else?

  Later he’d wonder about that. For now, he rose to his knees and reached for protection.