by Kali Anthony
‘There’s something else,’ she said. ‘He demanded I get him information about Atlas. Shipping details. Ports of docking and unloading. Names of the captains on each vessel’s journey.’
‘Interesting...’ Christo said.
It was. Most of those details were publicly available. She’d only investigated out of curiosity. Her father didn’t need her to find out anything. A shipping broker could have done the job as easily.
‘And did you give your father the information?’
Christo’s voice was cool, his face impassive. He didn’t trust her, even after what she’d divulged. A pang of hurt scored her insides.
‘Never! That’s why they said Alexis stole money. To ensure my compliance.’ Her voice cracked.
Christo wrapped his arms around her again, drawing her tight to him. ‘Thea. I’m sorry. Raul will find him.’
Unless her father got to Alexis first.
She slumped into Christo, exhaustion washing over her. The night was going to be long, and all she wanted was to stay like this for ever. In Christo’s arms. Where, for once, everything felt natural and right. But there was no ‘for ever’ for them—only now. And if that was all she had she’d take it. Because this wasn’t Christo’s fault—or hers. They were both pawns in a rich man’s game.
And as she nestled into Christo’s chest, soaking up the heat into her frozen heart, she knew. The blackmail... This marriage... It wasn’t about a debt. Her father wanted Christo’s ships.
CHAPTER TEN
HE’D FAILED. NOT on all measures tonight. But on the most important his failure had been acute—because he’d failed Thea.
Christo dropped his head, stared at the floor. A piece of lint was attached to his shoe. He kicked off the polished black leather. Tore at his bow tie and tossed it on the couch. The taint of bile rose in his throat.
His presumptions tonight disgusted him. What had he been thinking? He’d dared Thea to wear that dress. To show everyone the woman he saw each day. Show her magnificence. Show she was a force of nature, alive and powerful in a flash of arterial red.
She’d cut every man off at the knees when she’d walked into the room. His baser parts had brimmed with pride at having her by his side as she’d threaded her arm through his. Yet he’d brought the enemy into his home. Drawn her father and brother to her and hadn’t been there to stop them.
It haunted him. Her standing there, surrounded. Demetri clasping her arm in that brutal grip. Volcanic heat clawed his gut. He flexed his fingers. How dared anyone lay their hands on her? After all she’d confessed, the least she was due was his protection and he couldn’t even give her that properly.
He unbuttoned his shirt. Shrugged it off. Poured a cognac. He’d let another burn, that of the amber liquid, scorch away the guilt.
The celebrations had been a success. He’d done his duty by Atlas. Raul could assess the rest. Demetri and Tito’s arrogance had overcome their good sense. It showed they could be caught out if watched closely enough.
He gulped from the glass, downing the contents in one mouthful. He’d try to sleep—a futile activity since Thea had entered his house. He’d wake to visions of smooth skin and breathless sighs as he immersed himself in a soft, warm body. The dreams were fevered, formless things, but he knew who he was with. Who shared with him the pleasure they unleashed. Thea. Always Thea.
He had no right to her. But the feel of her supple body in his arms tonight, her head on his chest as she melted into him...
Even as he’d been soothing her he’d been craving her. The only one he desired. Of all the women who’d sought him out over the years, he coveted the one who didn’t want him. The relentless hunger of it ached inside him.
You’re married to her.
No! He had to shut out that voice, whispering the impossible. Her trust had been betrayed by too many. He still had some honour left. A thin shred, which frayed a little more every time she came near, but he’d protect it. Try to stitch it up with more resolve than he’d ever shown in the past when he’d seen something he wanted to reach out and take.
She’d leave this marriage untouched. This constant ache was his penance for every selfish deed of his past. He would be better. For her.
A tentative knock sounded at the door. It opened a crack and the soft music of her voice filled the space. ‘I want to thank you.’
His heart plummeted as Thea drifted into the room, still dressed in the glittering gown he’d chosen. The soft lace accentuated her hypnotic curves. His goddess. A dream that couldn’t be. Thea had loaned him her life just for a short while. She wasn’t his to keep.
Yet seductive whispers of Kiss her... filled his head. He shut them down.
‘You’ve nothing to thank me for.’ The words were ground out like broken glass, cutting with each utterance. He did want her thanks. He wanted it all.
‘You stood up for me.’
Her eyes gleamed bright in the soft lamplight. His desire to comfort her overwhelmed him. To wrap her up tight and stroke away her pain. All dangerous ideas designed to get her into his arms again.
‘It was no more than anyone would have done,’ he said.
She shook her head. ‘You know that’s not true.’
He noticed the marks on her skin from Demetri’s rough fingers. She’d bruise. Cold, dark certainty chilled through his veins. He’d break the man who had done that to her.
He took a step forward. Stopped. ‘Your arm—’
She shrugged it off. ‘I’ve had worse.’
Her acceptance crushed him. The things she’d endured... ‘You’re safe now. Your father and brother will never hurt you again.’
She looked up at him with warm amber eyes. The fire from them beat any drink in a glass.
‘I know.’
She’d invaded his senses. He wanted to immerse himself in her scent of sweet spice. Touch her... Touch those red marks on her arm.
He reached out and stroked them. Her skin was smooth silk under his fingertips. Her pupils dilated and she blinked, long and slow. Her lashes feathered her cheek. A lick of heat curled deep inside him and clenched tight.
‘I trust you, Christo.’
Her voice brushed feather-soft against his skin. Take her... He’d sweep her into his arms. Ravish her plush scarlet lips. Replace pain with gasping pleasure.
Christo glimpsed her reflection in the mirror behind them. That sinuous flock of birds soared across her spine. He would never forget that one of those birds had been tattooed there for him. He was required to atone for it.
‘You shouldn’t,’ he said, though still every part of him yearned to protect her. For ever.
He removed his hand from the warmth of her and clenched his fists by his sides. Relegated himself to a life of cold. ‘I do what advantages me and no one else.’
Was she cold too? Goose bumps bloomed on her arms. Her lips parted. Her eyes were alight, blazing and fierce. The silence stretched the space between them till every part of him screamed to fill it. Her thoughts were so loud he could almost hear them.
I see through you.
To the child he’d once been. Unloved. Unlovable.
She cocked her head. ‘Who’s the liar now?’
Aching hunger gripped his gut. He couldn’t give her what she deserved. Love. It wasn’t an emotion he felt and she needed someone to cherish her. She contained too much life and passion to be kept by a man like him.
Yet how he longed to release it all. To scorch himself clean. He abhorred any man who’d seen her before. He wanted to be her past, present and future. It was a cruel, impossible desire.
She had her past. He’d seen snatches of it from the file Raul had created. Grainy pictures and the hidden treasure she’d permitted him to glimpse. Though no matter how deeply he delved he’d never unwrap all of her, wound in mystery as she was.
‘It�
�s a warning. One you should heed.’
He should send her away, safe to her room. Drink some more and drown out the dreams which lured him to purgatory each night.
‘Goodnight, Thea.’
He was close to her now. How they’d moved together he couldn’t tell. Were they his steps or hers?
She reached up, hesitated. Her slender hand hovered in the space between them. Then her eyes dropped to his mouth and she touched him. A tentative brush on his jaw. The burn of anticipation for things he’d never take roared through him. If he stood there, unmoving, she’d stop. He’d allow her this faltering exploration. Succumb to weakness and accept her soft caresses. It was all he could ever allow himself.
She traced his bottom lip, and the sting of pleasure rippled through him as her searching fingers trapped his gusting breaths. Her gaze followed everywhere she touched. Like his throat, where she hesitated on the pulse of his heart slamming into his ribs. Her lips tilted. Then cool fingers on heated flesh traced the muscles of his chest, as if the wonders of the universe were written in Braille on his skin. The merest brush over his nipple made his breath hitch.
His eyes drifted shut, trying to lock her out. Still her hand explored every ridge of his abdomen, till he was on fire. An inferno threatened to devour him.
He snapped his hand over hers. ‘Stop.’
Every part of him screamed for her to go on. He’d never craved anything more. Atlas Shipping? He’d sign it all away for her fingers to continue their cartography of his body. But she wasn’t his. He wouldn’t take her.
He opened his eyes. Hers were heavy-lidded, with a sultry golden glow. She stepped back, slid her hand from under his. Broke their touch. The loss of her was immediate and brutal. But a quiet, knowing smile tilted the corners of her mouth.
Thea reached around and drew down the tiny zipper at the back of her dress. Christo watched the mirror behind her, as if in slow motion. Each notch of the zip punched another hit of lust into his gut. She tugged at the bow holding the halter neck and shrugged the dress free. Red lace slithered over her body, caressing each curve as it fell. She stood there. Bare except for the glittering heels and the tiny scrap of a G-string covering the apex of her thighs. The dress swirled at her feet, the colour of blood.
That should be his blood on the floor. His sacrifice to this goddess, all honeyed skin and slender waist and perfect breasts, her nipples taut and ripe. Ready for him.
‘Thea...’ His voice rasped, unrecognisable. A plea? A prayer of thanks? He couldn’t tell. He wanted all she was offering. Wanted to consume her. But he’d leave nothing behind if he had his way.
‘Please, Christo...’
He shook his head, trembling with the effort of ignoring the desire raging through him. ‘Not for me.’
‘You’re worth it.’
He wasn’t. But those words... They broke him.
He strode forward. Wrapped his arms around her and grasped the smooth, warm flesh under his hands. Her skin was warm satin against his palms. She melted into him. Sighed as he took her lips with his. His tongue plundered her luscious mouth. She was tentative at first, before softening into the rhythm, willing and hungry.
She lifted her hands to his hair and he shivered at the scrape of her fingernails against his scalp. He slipped his hands to her buttocks, round and bare, holding her against his hard, aching body.
She ground against him, mewling and desperate. If he didn’t get her to the bed soon they’d both finish here. He hooked his fingers into her flimsy underwear, slid it past her hips and let it fall to the floor. He battled with the fly of his trousers and cast them aside with his briefs. Thank God he was only half dressed, so he wouldn’t have to waste more time. He was a wreck of desire.
He swept Thea into his arms and lowered her onto the bed. She scrambled back against the pillows, her body splayed out like an offering. Waiting. He slid a hand along the smooth swell of her calf. She dropped her head back and moaned. He eased off one stiletto, and then the other, all the while indulging in a visual feast of her golden skin and luxurious curves. Glowing, wanton and perfect.
‘I’m coming for you, Thea.’
She shivered as he crawled over the top of her, his vision fogged by the red roar of arousal. Her dusky pink nipples peaked in hard points. He bent down and lavished one with the attention of his tongue. Her low cries of pleasure pierced the room. She smelled of spices and musk. Exotic. Delectable. Driving him on. Driving him to madness.
He was so hard he’d shatter before long. And Thea’s body trembled at each touch. He needed her warm softness to envelop him. His mouth watered at the thought of the night ahead. Devouring her body. Pleasuring her till dawn. Taking the pleasure he’d denied himself. Now she was his.
He lay next to her, sliding his hand down her stomach, easing his fingers into the dark triangle of hair at the apex of her thighs, exploring the hot, plush folds of her. She arched into him as he stroked her there. He wanted to watch her fall apart, but that would be the end of him. She was everything. Too much. Like a dream he’d awoken into.
He rolled away. Grappled with protection. If he let her touch him he’d explode. He moved over her again. Settled between trembling thighs which had fallen open for him. He was beyond sanity, almost beyond all control. And then that thinnest of threads snapped. She was here. She was ready. Thea.
In one fluid movement he thrust hard and took what was his. And as he buried himself in the heart of her body he realised he’d made a terrible mistake.
Too fast. Too much. Too everything. The fire consumed her, deep inside. And Christo above her. Still, silent apart from his ragged breaths. She was trying not to breathe. Not to move. If she didn’t, it might not hurt.
Was it meant to be like this? She’d had orgasms before, on her own. They were fun, and she’d assumed with someone else it would be even better.
But tonight? All the pleasure, and then...
She stiffened.
Christo dropped his forehead to hers. His strong, muscular arms bracketed the sides of her head, his heavy weight pressing her down.
‘You should have told me.’
His voice was gentle. Kind. Her humiliation, complete.
‘It didn’t seem important.’
Virginity wasn’t, was it? An outdated notion, she’d always thought. Till now.
His muscles quivered. Was it hard for him to hold himself like that? She wasn’t sure. He’d been so hungry. Passionate. Aroused. Though she hadn’t really anything to go by, when he’d said he was coming for her she’d almost burst into flames. And then as he’d crawled towards her, wild and wanting...
The size of him. For a moment passion had fled and fear had invaded, leaching in like poison. Then he’d plunged into her, and now they were here.
‘It’s everything, Thea.’
His breath brushed her cheek. He tried to move—a slight shift as if to gently withdraw. Her hands that had been bunching the sheets in tight fingers now grabbed his hips to still him.
‘No. It’s done.’
She wanted him, craved to give him all of herself. How could this have gone so wrong?
‘That doesn’t give me much comfort.’
His laugh was mirthless. Pained. Though her own pain seemed to be dulling. Maybe she was getting used to him. The burn felt different now—less fire more insistence. A sensation she couldn’t place.
She moved her hands to his arms and stroked his taut biceps. Her each inhalation was a mere sip of air. What had started out as a grand seduction, had turned into a disaster.
Christo leaned down and brushed his lips over hers. ‘You said you trusted me. Do you still trust me, Thea?’
She nodded. Because she did. Implicitly. She knew he’d never intended what had happened tonight.
‘You need to breathe,’ he said. ‘Slowly.’
She looked into his
eyes, green pools of swirling emotion.
‘Relax. I know what I’m doing.’
She breathed and he withdrew. The relief was exquisite, but a terrible feeling of loss remained. She didn’t understand it at all.
He cradled her in his arms. ‘I’ve disappointed you,’ she said, her voice cracking.
‘No.’ He held her close against his chest. All the while running his hand over her quaking body. ‘You’ve honoured me.’
He kissed the side of her neck, feather-light. Goose bumps flowered from every touch of his lips, shivering over her. He continued to stroke her everywhere his gentle fingers could reach. Smoothing out the tense muscles till she relaxed.
He whispered into her ear. ‘In this bed there’s only pleasure. I promise.’ Heat flashed over her, a new burn replacing the old. That confusing ache between her legs remained. Grew. She wanted him again—but how could that be?
He kissed her. His lips soft and gentle. Exploring slowly, waiting for her. She kissed him back. Every sweep of his tongue encouraged her to drown in the pleasure of his mouth. His hands drifted over her skin, stroking her nipples with the pad of his thumb till they were tight and all too sensitive. She wanted his tongue on them again. That sharp spike of pleasure spearing straight to her core.
As if reading her mind, he took her left nipple into his mouth, lavishing it with attention as his hand slipped between her legs.
Her stomach clenched with fear, but he soothed it away with his gentle insistent touch, coaxing her. The fire took hold, deep and low. He stroked, finding the perfect spot. There. There. The spark arced between her nipple and the juncture of her thighs. Pleasure. Pain. Beyond comprehension.
He slid one finger deep inside. Withdrew it. Then two. She gasped. The air was thick and hard to breathe. He kept moving, in a slow, hypnotic rhythm. Oh, this... This was how it was meant to be. All-consuming.
The rhythm inside her was mirrored by his tongue at her nipple. He moved his thumb to the sensitive nerves between her legs. A light circling and the heat bloomed in a rush from her centre, roaring outwards. There was nothing but the feel of him. Lips, tongue, fingers. The wet slickness of her.