Pairs VIII

by Connelly, Clare

  What a joke it was.

  Filip and Christos shared the same father. What was Christos’s birthright should have been Filip’s too!

  It took a tremendous amount of discipline to keep any disapproval from her face. Soon she would find a way to make him pay and this horrible worry would go away. She didn’t quite know exactly how the next part of the plan would work, but she was getting herself into a position to have this tycoon at her beck and call.

  He clicked her door open and before she could move he’d reached across and unclicked her seatbelt. “How fast can you walk in those shoes?” He appraised the skyscraping heels with interest.

  She stepped out of the car and nodded. “Fastish, I guess.”

  “Fastish? Do I need to carry you?”

  He wanted her. He wanted her with the same force that was throbbing through her soul. Though she knew this was all a game – and one she had to win – the fact he desired her gave her a kick of courage. “Carry me.”

  His smile was grim as he scooped down and lifted her to his chest. He shouldered the door open without pausing to kick off his own shoes. He took the steps easily to the third floor of his home. He shunned the use of his own bedroom; that was private, and whoever this woman was, he doubted she’d be more than a distraction to him for one night. Though he did want her more than he could remember wanting anyone in a very long time.

  Elle took in the details of the minimally furnished room with a sense of loneliness. Is this really how he lived? She could have been in an exclusive hotel. “It’s a guest room,” he said, as if reading her thoughts. He placed her on the bed but bent down to kiss her instantly.

  She had thought he’d ravaged her outside the nightclub, but this kiss was passion and greed; need and desperation. His lips assaulted hers as his tongue lashed hers in a fierce declaration of dominance.

  Elle surrendered. Completely.

  She writhed in his arms, searching for a fulfilment she couldn’t have named. She knew only that she needed something. More. The kiss was simply stoking fires and they burned brightly through her whole body.

  It had been so long since she’d made love to a man that it occurred to her she might not know how to act or what to do, but Christos made doubts impossible. His hands pushed at her clothes, freeing her from the shirt and bra so that he could stare down at her breasts and cup them as though they had been made for his touch, and his alone. His fingers ran across her nipples, plucking them and teasing them, before dropping to her jeans and dispensing with the denim.

  When his hands moved to her underpants, she stilled, anxiety and uncertainty creeping back.

  She was about to sleep with the enemy; a man she had been taught to hate for the blood that ran through his veins.

  And she couldn’t wait. That impatience scared her, and she would know later how wise she had been to experience a presentiment of worry in that moment.

  “I have a condom in my wallet,” she said, earning a flicker of a dark smile from him.

  “Yes, I imagine you would.” The hint of judgement smarted. He reached across to the bedside table and lifted a foil packet out. “You can save it for next time.”

  Next time? With him? Or the next man he imagined she’d fall into bed with? What would he say if he knew she’d only been with two men and both of them when she was fifteen?

  Her heart was crashing against her ribcage as he sheathed himself and then brought his body over hers. “You are sure you want this?”

  Her cheeks were flushed, her pupils huge. “What do you think?”

  “I think you are the most sexually insatiable woman I’ve met, and that I like it.”

  Sexually insatiable? Lord, was he about to be disappointed. Elle was as frigid as they came. A few rolls in the hay with teenage boyfriends had taught her that when it came to sex, she was a total dud.

  Only as he moved his arousal towards her feminine core, a fever burned her blood. She dug her nails into his muscular body and panted his name over and over like an incantation that might soothe her tempest.

  He thrust into her in one firm, insistent motion. The possession was absolute. Her body lifted, her arms embraced him, and her muscles enclosed him tightly as though begging him never to leave her. Elle wrapped her legs around his waist, locking her ankles together and as he began to move she issued an animalistic scream into the warm night air.

  She hated this man, but she thought she could easily get addicted to sleeping with him. In fact, she already was.

  Chapter 2

  It was close to five o’clock when he reached for her.

  The light was drifting in through the bay windows, shades of pink and peach bathed him in the morning’s warmth. He extended an arm lazily, confident that he would feel her silky skin and soon be possessing her. After all, he had buried himself in her all night, whenever his body had craved that contact. And he had craved her, and often. Time and again, he’d found his dreams disturbed by sensual recollections and his body had found a way to her, to inhabit her and make her his for a moment.

  She was perfection.

  She had answered his calls of desire willingly, wrapping herself around him and taking him deep into her core.

  He couldn’t recall having met a woman he was so simpatico with on a sexual level. His voracious appetite had been answered completely. If love was cast from sexual compatability then he would have said he’d fallen head over heels for this mysterious woman.

  So, when morning began to breathe light across his villa, and he found her missing, he stood from the bed with an impatient start. He paused only to don boxer shorts and then pushed out of his room, his eyes scanning the hallways and stairs with frustration he didn’t bother concealing.

  Belatedly he remembered they’d spent the night on the third floor. He pounded down the stairs, bypassing the second floor as it was largely reserved for his bedroom and offices, and emerged on the ground floor.

  The second he saw her he breathed out a low, soft breath.

  She was cradling a mug of tea, curled into a large white armchair, her eyes fixed across the room. When he entered, she blinked up at him as though he was the last person she expected to see, despite the fact it was his house. Her smile was self-conscious and sweet. The sweetness lodged an odd ache deep in his gut.

  He didn’t often see them like this; the women he slept with. Vulnerable and … as people, rather than just bodies.

  She had pulled on her jeans and t-shirt but without the red bra. Perhaps out of coyness in the light of day she’d wrapped a blanket around her shoulders to hide the fact.

  “I hope you don’t mind,” she said softly, lifting her tea a little higher. “I helped myself.”

  “I missed you when I woke up.” His words were husky. She swallowed, the delicate muscles of her throat bunching visibly. Fascinated, he knelt right in front of her, pushing her legs apart so he could lean in and kiss her lips.

  Elle felt flushed by guilt.

  Could this plan possibly work? Would he feel worried enough by the threat of her disclosing the fact they’d slept together to be compelled to take over his father’s agreement to pay for Filip’s school fees? She kissed him, but arrows of pain were shooting through her. He would never touch her again when he knew the truth. He would hate her, and he would be right to. She was using him. She was using his beautiful body and voracious appetite for the most mercenary of reasons.

  Her mother had done this all her life; she’d slept with men, taking what she could from them by whatever means possible. And to what end? She’d died broke, scorned, drunk and bitter.

  Panic was in her bloodstream. “I’m hot,” she said against his lips, not sure if it was desire, guilt, or the warm summer’s morning that was causing her skin to tingle red.

  “Are you?” He stood, pulling her with him, keeping his arms wrapped around her waist. He lifted her easily, straddling her legs about his waist and kissing her as he walked through the apartment.

  She closed her eyes, exp
eriencing the moment fully for it would not last long. Soon she would have to leave and plan her next move. How to make the most of what they’d shared and the photo Hannah had taken?

  But first?

  Could she get to know him better? To discover if he knew of Filip?

  Maybe, and hope flared in her chest, just maybe she could get his help without pressuring him. Perhaps if she were honest, he would offer?

  The water around her legs startled her and she broke the kiss with a squawk. He was waist-deep in the swimming pool before she realised it. Elle squealed but he kept walking, until she was submerged to her shoulders. “What are you doing?” She laughed, surprising him by tilting her head back and wetting her long blonde hair. It drifted behind her like a pale fan.

  She was beautiful, but obviously not vain. She’d washed all that make up off at some point, and fresh-faced she looked even prettier, and far younger. He kept her cupped tight to him until she righted herself. “My clothes are wet.”

  He nodded, his expression one of mock seriousness. “Well then, you’ll just have to stay here until they’re dry.”

  Her stomach clenched. Is that what he wanted? For her to stay longer in his house?

  “I haven’t finished with you yet,” he murmured, dropping his mouth to hers. His tongue was a force she was powerless to resist, and as he kissed her, he slid his hands under her top so that he could feel her wet, full breasts in his palms.

  “Perfect,” he said with a shake of his head. “I would take you right now if I had protection.”

  She felt disappointment flare in her chest.

  “Are you on birth control?” He asked, kissing her neck and then taking an earlobe into his mouth and wobbling it between his teeth.

  “No,” she said softly, the single word loaded with regret.

  A frown tugged at his lips. “That surprises me.”

  Her pulse began to fire for a wholly different reason. Would someone like she had pretended to be the night before have been on the pill? Of course. She bit down on her lip and pushed away from him a little. “It doesn’t agree with me.” She kicked away, swimming to the other side of the pool.

  Her jeans were heavy though and he passed her easily, reaching the polished marble edging before her. He didn’t attempt to touch her though. He pressed his elbows onto the surface and laced his fingers together. His eyes were intense and she felt again how many similarities he had to Filip.

  “What is your business in Athens?” It was a casual question but guilt made Elle flush.

  Elle tread water beside him, bracing herself on the edge of the pool as he was. She stared forward, at the screen formed by the hedge, and beyond it the beautiful dawn sky. “Family stuff,” she said with total honesty, shrugging her shoulders. A breeze caressed her cheek. “And you? This is home?”

  He nodded, tilting his head to stare at her profile. “Most of the time.” He reached across and ran a finger over her cheek, chasing the breeze. “I have places in London, New York, Paris.” With each city he named he nodded a little, a gesture Elle found endearing. “I travel a lot for business so I need to be comfortable.”

  Her look was droll. “Yes, I can see you like creature comforts.” She spun, propping her elbows on the edge of the pool and staring inwards at the mansion. And it was a mansion, she realised properly now, in the breaking light of day. The sheer quantity of glass blew her mind; enormous doors that overlooked Athens in one direction and the pool area in another. Three stories high, it was a bonafide compound.

  “As do you, I suspect.”

  Oh, if only he knew! A smile tickled her lips as she thought of the flat she shared with Hannah, and Filip when he was home from boarding school. Most of the furnishings had been scrounged from yard sales and second-hand stores, though Elle’s eye for style had resulted in a fashionably eclectic mix of bohemian pieces.

  “Who doesn’t,” she answered lamely, for he seemed to be waiting for a response. Would he help her? It was a burning question now. “You live here alone?”

  He pulled a quizzical face. “Of course. What, do you think I have a wife hiding somewhere in the attic, Rochester style?”

  She flushed. “I didn’t mean that. I was referring to family.”

  “Koukla mou, I am twenty nine years old. Do you imagine I live with my parents still?”

  It was such a ludicrous suggestion that she laughed. “I guess not.” She kicked into the middle of the pool, graceful despite the denim, and did a pirouette in the water. “Do you have brothers? Sisters?”

  “No. There is only me.” His expression was shuttered in a way that she couldn’t analyse. If she knew him better she might have been able to understand what had caused him to close off from the conversation. Was it secret-keeping? Did he know of Filip after all, as Hannah had suggested? Did he know, but refuse to care? Or was it simply that he’d only buried his father recently, and that he was – naturally – mourning him?

  “I have a brother,” she said, her own face showing clearly the affection she felt for Filip as she spoke. “I don’t see him often though. He’s at boarding school. I miss him.”

  “I see.” So her brother was still at school? An unpalatable idea occurred to him, one he instantly needed to dispel. “How old are you?”

  She laughed again, and he realised he liked the sound of it. “Older than I look,” she promised, swimming back towards him and wrapping her legs around his waist. She didn’t stop to reflect on how perfectly natural the intimacy felt. “Old enough that you should have no compunction in taking me inside and ravaging me again and again.”

  The invitation seemed to tumble from her without permission, and without her knowledge. It was as though he had unlocked a box within her, one she hadn’t even known she possessed, and it was filled with words, ideas and desires that were not of her making, yet were of her completely.

  “Old enough to vote?” He asked, wading through the water and moving up the stairs. He held her easily around his waist, not caring that they were leaving a trail of pool water on the tiled courtyard.

  “Yep.” She ran her hands through the hair at his nape, her eyes filled with mirth as he stared at her.

  “You’re being deliberately evasive.”

  “Yep.” She laughed once more. “We’ve brought half the pool with us.”

  He dropped her to her feet and lifted her shirt in one motion, discarding it with a loud splash at their feet. Her jeans were much harder to remove; they were skin-tight and the water meant he had to kneel down to peel them from her body. But he was nothing if not determined and within a moment he had stripped her naked.

  He stood and cupped her face. “Tell me your age.”

  She grinned and wrapped her fingers around the elastic of his boxer shorts. She began to ease them down, and though they moved easily, she did as he had and knelt to the ground. At eye-level with his powerful arousal, she briefly faltered, before pressing a chaste kiss on the flat skin just beneath his belly button. He jerked in response and she felt a thrill of feminine power. With fingers that were shaking slightly she gripped his hips and stood. “Old enough that you don’t need to worry.”

  She couldn’t have said why she was being so cryptic, she knew only that she liked teasing him. She enjoyed withholding information from him, for she sensed he was a man who needed to know everything about everyone. Information was, after all power, and Christos Rakanti was nothing if not powerful.

  “Are you going to take me to bed?” She asked with hooded eyes, her fingers dropping to his length.

  He groaned. “No.” He placed his hands on her shoulders and pushed her gently, so that she fell back onto the sofa. She made a sound of surprise as he came to lie on top of her. His kiss was demanding and emotional. Strange since there was so little emotion in what they were doing.

  This was chemistry, pure and simple.

  “Wait here.” He pressed himself against her and then stood. He reappeared quickly, in the act of protecting them both from any unwanted
consequences of this union. And though she’d borrowed several pages from her mother’s playbook, getting pregnant to a man she hardly knew was definitely not one of them. Elle was grateful that he took the matter so seriously, but even as he thrust into her she wondered if he was so pedantic about it because he knew of Filip. Had he grown up with the spectre of unwanted children and determined never to find himself in such a situation?

  She couldn’t give the notion any proper attention though, as her mind began to fog with the now-familiar whirls of desire and lust that he alone could invoke. She dug her nails into his back as an orgasm came at her thick and fast. She lifted her pelvis and he thrust deeper, taking control of her body as though he was designed to do so.

  His hands ran over her skin and he committed every single inch of her to memory. She would be the stuff of his fantasies. When she was long gone, she would fill his dreams. She was perfection. He took one of her dusky pink nipples into his mouth, revelling in her breasts’ sweet fullness. He laced his fingers through hers, lifting her arms above her head as together they rode the wave of release, their breathing in unison, their voices raised.

  It was perfect.

  He fell onto her afterwards and through his chest he could feel her heart racing like a panicked sparrow. He liked that he could do that to her. She had the experience and confidence of a woman who did this often, but he didn’t care. Her heart was racing for him and he knew that she was as driven wild by their coming together as he was.

  He pulled out of her with a sense of regret, already anticipating their next union. He stared down at her, adding her sweet face to his collection of memories. “I’m starving.”

  She grinned. “Same.”

  His smile was, without a doubt, the sexiest thing she’d ever seen. His face was … strong. The word came to her out of nowhere, and it was perfectly apt. From his square jaw to defined eyes and the confident set of his mouth, he was a man so obviously in control that it took her breath away.

  He stood and held a hand out for her. She put hers in it and followed him into the kitchen. He slipped into a door to his left and returned with a couple of white robes.