by Trish Morey
His following swift intake of air empowered her. He wanted her. Exposed to his appreciative gaze, her nipples hardened in the firm, goosebumped skin of her breasts. As much as she wanted his eyes to drink her in, her breasts craved the touch of his hand, his mouth.
She took one of his hands and held it against her. He smiled, squeezing his fingers around her flesh and following likewise with the other hand. He shifted his grip so that one hand supported her behind her back while he kissed her and eased her down flat on the bed. His kiss deepened, his hands once again exploring her breasts. It wasn’t enough. Just as he wanted to look at her skin, to feel her skin, she needed that contact too. As his lips traced down the line of her neck she scrabbled with the buttons on his shirt.
In a final flurry the sides of his shirt flew apart and she pulled him down on her so that her skin met his. Her senses sizzled as their warm flesh meshed and merged. Everywhere they touched felt like paradise, and a whole lot of reason to go on. When he suddenly pushed her away she felt cold, a sense of abandonment. But in a second he’d discarded the shirt and his mouth was back, seeking out the flesh of her breast, taking her nipple in his mouth, rolling its tight bud around with his tongue and sucking with such gentle, even pressure that she felt the layers of her old life being stripped away, leaving only that which Nick had tasted before.
He caressed each nipple in turn, the warmth of his mouth rendering them harder and more insistent, sending shards of sensation down to the base of her deepest need.
And while his tongue went to work her own hands explored his body, stroking and massaging his shoulders, his ribs, his stomach—wherever they could reach.
She felt each sculpted dip between his ribs, felt the play of muscle under skin and the touch of his satiny olive skin. And still it wasn’t enough. It wasn’t enough to be close. It wasn’t enough to touch.
For eight long years she had tried to shut this man out of her mind, tried to shut him out of her heart. But there was no denying the truth of how she felt. Now her body prepared to welcome him back inside, where she wanted him, where she needed him more than anything else.
He eased down the zip of her jeans and peeled them down her legs, collecting her panties and flicking off her sandals in the same desperate movement. His hands glided down her legs, gentle in touch but electric in intensity. Everywhere he touched sparked and fused. Desire rippled through her as the inevitable nearness of their union struck home.
He kneeled over her and took a deep breath, one hand now skimming over the skin of her stomach. She flinched slightly, knowing she was different from that girl who’d made love to him as a teenager. Since then this body had stretched, had borne a child, and she knew more than anyone of the telltale, even if somewhat faded proof of that. How would he react to that?
‘So beautiful, Alexandra. You are more beautiful than I remember.’
His words swelled her chest, bringing a smile to her mouth that was a mixture of pride and gratitude that he found her this way, that his eyes worshipped her. ‘Make love to me,’ she said, suddenly sitting up and stretching one hand out to him.
His actions spoke loud in response as, without taking his eyes from her, he unbuckled his belt and shucked off his jeans. And then he was naked, and it was her turn to catch her breath. All the dreams she’d had, all the nights she’d imagined Nick in her thoughts—they were nothing compared to the sight of the man who stood before her now.
She’d asked him to make love to her and only now did she realise what that entailed. She gulped down both wind and courage as she registered the sheer physical presence of him next to her. His abdomen, tight and muscular, the olive skin smooth and sheened, his hips, lean and strong, promising delivery of satisfaction—and beyond.
He reached out and took her hand. ‘Alexandra,’ he said, his voice husky, almost catching as he lowered himself down alongside her. He held her hand to his mouth and kissed the palm of her hand—a gesture so simple yet somehow so intimate that she was moved by the depth of feeling it inspired in her.
‘Nick…’ she said, before his lips found hers once more and there was no need for words of any kind. Their bodies spoke a language known only to them, his body wooing her with his strength and mastery, and her body responding to every subtle intonation and expression. His hands spoke of rediscovery, and her body sang with reawakening. His body spoke of his need, and hers answered it.
Pressure mounted within her until only one thing mattered and that was to have Nick fill her, to make the last nine years disappear in a blur of passion and desire. She clutched him, felt the slick sheen of his sweat at his lower back, and wished for him to fill her.
He kissed her and growled deep and low, pulling away. ‘One moment,’ he said, and then he was back—and when she realised what he was doing she almost cried out with relief. He was protecting her. While she was touched by his consideration, there was much more immediate cause to celebrate. At last! Soon he would be inside her and this long, dragging ache inside her would be gone.
He positioned himself between her legs, his hands at her hips. Without thinking she raised them in greeting and he accepted her invitation, nudging gently at first, then more insistently, before finally driving home the full glorious length of him.
Both of them stopped for a second, as if in awe of the moment. Alex felt her eyes widen with shock and pleasure combined. The moment held such clarity and purpose, as if both had been waiting too long for this moment to arrive and it was here.
Slowly at first he started moving, withdrawing, teasing, before filling her once more with his next thrust.
Alex moved under him, pleasure mounting into delicious torture, and she looked for release. It came in his next surging thrust and her immediate world exploded, again and again, as he filled every space inside her, just as he filled her heart.
They rocked together, feeling the tremors diminish, their breathing subside, their sweat-slicked bodies at last gentling, and Alex knew there would only ever be one man for her. How she’d managed to try and ignore the fact for the last nine years she had no idea. For now it was crystal-clear that there would never be room in her heart or her bed for any man other than Nick.
And he was leaving.
Breath stopped in her chest. He hadn’t said when, just that he was going back to Greece. In a few days or a few hours he’d be gone, and she would have lost him to another hemisphere once again.
His hand pushed some hair from her eyes, and, surprised, she turned to meet Nick’s dark eyes on her.
‘You are thinking,’ he said. ‘Tell me what you are thinking of.’
She smiled. ‘Just—thank you.’ It was the truth too. She did owe him thanks—thanks for showing a gentler side of him, a side she’d thought lost completely under the bitter armour he’d built up around himself over the last few years, thanks for showing her that the man she’d thought lost was still there, deep down inside him.
His eyebrows and lips rose together, and his hand drew a line down the side of her face and down to her breast, circling the nipple.
‘Thank you for asking me. Now it is my turn to ask you.’ His hand traced down to her navel, again circling. In spite of its recent release, her body stirred in delicious response. ‘Make love to me, Alexandra.’
She felt him harden alongside her, felt the nudge of his erection against her thigh, and anticipation rose in her once more. His mouth sought hers and she didn’t need words to give her agreement. She conveyed it in her kiss, in the touch of her hands, and in her body’s response.
He was going home to Greece. But before he went she would ensure she had enough memories to take her through the long, lonely nights of the future. Memories of Nick. Memories of love.
She made love to him, and morning moved into afternoon and then into evening. They stopped to eat, sharing a salad and bread and memories of Crete, then shared an evening walk, hand in hand, along the beach, before falling into bed again as evening became night.
Alex yawn
ed after their latest lovemaking and nestled into the space between his arm and his body. With his free arm he stroked her shoulder, almost hypnotising her. It had been a perfect day. Her body felt exhausted, yet at the same time exhilarated. Muscles she’d long forgotten about already voiced their protest.
She was deliciously close to sleep. ‘When are you leaving?’ she asked softly.
His hand stopped and pulled away to rub his forehead. ‘A few days.’
Alex felt her heart squeeze tight. She’d known he was leaving, but still disappointment consumed her. But why should one day’s lovemaking make any difference to his plans? She’d never believed it would—had she?
But what of a son? Would he stay if he knew about his son?
She licked her swollen lips. ‘Is there anything that might make you reconsider?’
‘I have businesses back in Greece. Now that Dimitri is here, there is no reason for me to stay. I have to go.’
He didn’t hesitate with his response. She should feel grateful he’d made his intentions clear. She closed her eyes and nodded into his shoulder. ‘I know.’
So he was going. And tomorrow she would tell him about Jason. At least they would have a chance to meet each other before he left. Tomorrow. First thing tomorrow…
He was gone. Alex looked at the pillow next to her, devoid of everything but the impression of Nick’s head. Her ears strained for sounds of running water—the shower—a kettle? But there was nothing to hear. The silence of an otherwise empty house wrapped around her. Only the sounds of early-morning bird calls drifted in from outside, like the bright needles of sunlight squeezing through the gaps in the curtains.
She reached out an arm. The bed was cold. Where was he? She sat up, looking over the edge of the bed, but the floor only held her own discarded clothes.
Suddenly wide awake, she jumped up and scrabbled into her robe, trying to ignore the ache of rarely used muscles. She checked the kitchen and bathroom. She kneeled on the sofa and looked through the front curtains. But even a peek out of the front window revealed nothing but her own car in the driveway.
She looked around the room for a note or message. But there was nothing.
Nick and every trace of him had disappeared. She collapsed down onto the sofa. Some time early in the morning he’d sneaked out of her bed and out of her life.
‘You’re a fool, Alex Hammond, a prize fool,’ she told herself, anger replacing her shock at discovering his undercover departure. ‘How could you have fallen for that?’
After all, ever since his arrival he’d been after her to jump into bed. Now she had, and where was he? Gone. Long gone.
It was clear he’d got what he wanted.
Tears pricked at her eyes, but anger at her own actions forced them back. She sniffed. ‘A silly fool,’ she repeated, heading off to the kitchen to put on the kettle. He’d conned her well and good. All that stuff about leaving any talk until tomorrow—well, he clearly wasn’t interested. He’d had no intention of staying and hearing any of it. Clearly wasn’t interested in her or her life. He never wanted to know—otherwise why wouldn’t he have stuck around?
Now he would go back to Greece and never know about his son. Well, it would serve him right.
Alex jiggled a teabag while her teeth toyed with her bottom lip. Only that didn’t solve anything. Nick still needed to know he had a son. But with Jason’s birthday tomorrow there was no way he was going to know before the event.
She flicked the teabag out into the sink and sat down at the table, trying to get her thoughts under some sort of control.
She should have insisted on telling him about Jason before they’d made love—only it had been easier not to. She hadn’t taken much convincing. There was little chance he’d have wanted to make love to her after a revelation like that, and at the time that had seemed the most important thing. Amazing how your hormones could replace logic with lust.
The phone rang and she jumped. Just maybe…
But it was Tilly, confirming what time she should arrive for the party tomorrow. Alex recited the details, trying not to sound too disappointed, and briefly explained that Sofia’s ‘wedding’ was off. She rang off and checked the time on the wall clock, and clunked her brain out of what-ifs and back into reality.
Jason was due back after lunch. Since she’d written off yesterday she now only had a few hours to do what she needed to get done for tomorrow’s holiday Monday party. She had to get moving.
CHAPTER NINE
THEY were all there. Jason and seven of his school-friends, including Matt and Jack, took turns at slapping the piñata hanging from the clothesline with a broomstick while Alex and Tilly escaped inside to put the final touches to the party food.
Her parents had already called from Perth, to wish Jason happy birthday and good fortune. Alex wished they could be here, but it wasn’t too long until Christmas, which would be even better.
The cake was all ready—a huge chocolate mud cake, iced to resemble a soccer ball—with eight candles positioned all around, ready to be lit at the right time. She’d take that outside when they’d finished with afternoon tea.
Alex smiled to herself as she heated the last of the sausage rolls. Everything was going so well. It was a bright day, Jason was having the time of his life and the kids were all having fun. Just perfect.
The doorbell rang as she was carrying the last of the food out to the outdoor seating on the rear verandah. She hesitated, sure all the invitees were accounted for.
‘I’ll get it,’ Tilly called. ‘It’s probably just someone collecting money for a good cause. You go on.’
Alex smiled gratefully and backed out through the screen door, carrying her load in both hands, to be met with squeals and yells of triumph. The final blow had been delivered to the piñata and sweets rained out over them. Eight boys immediately dropped to the ground, scrabbling for the most booty. She couldn’t help but laugh at the sight.
She heard footsteps coming through the kitchen. ‘Tilly,’ she called, ‘come and see. This is too funny.’
Tilly stepped through the door. ‘It seems we have another guest.’
Alex turned, only to see Nick follow Tilly onto the verandah. Blood drained from her face to congeal in her gut. At just one glimpse of him memories of their lovemaking surged back, memories of being close, of how he’d pleasured her, how she’d pleasured him…
Everything had been so perfect. So why had he left? And why was he back? She tossed up her chin and looked from one to the other. ‘What’s going on?’
Tilly scowled at her sister. ‘Hey, don’t be like that. Nick just apologised for losing me the best contract I’d ever had. And he’s brought Jason a present—look.’
Alex dragged her eyes down to the package he held, frowned, and then looked back to his face.
‘What are you doing here?’
‘I came to see you, as it happens, and I remembered what you’d said about your son’s party. I hope you don’t mind, only I don’t have much time before I leave.’
‘Of course she doesn’t mind,’ said Tilly. ‘Lovely of him to think of Jason—don’t you think, Alex?’
Alex looked at Tilly, who was smiling too encouragingly.
‘I’m sure Jason will appreciate the gesture,’ she went on, and Alex could swear she could just about hear Tilly’s teeth grating, forcing her to respond in the affirmative.
She swallowed and forced a bare smile to her face. ‘Thanks. I’m sure he’ll be very pleased.’
She looked over to the boys, who were now busily comparing the spoils of war, and sought out her son. He was there, in the middle, and pain knifed through her heart. She stole a breath and found a new emotion filling the gouge the knife had made—exhilaration. After eight long years father and son would finally meet.
Would they like each other?
She called out to Jason and he looked up, noticing for the first time the stranger beside her. He stuffed the sweets into his pockets and ran over, looking curiou
sly at the visitor.
‘Jason,’ she said, with one hand around his waist, as he was already getting too tall to put her arm comfortably around his shoulders any more, ‘this is Mr Santos, a—colleague of mine. He wants to meet you.’
‘Pleased to meet you, Jason. Happy birthday.’
He looked up at Nick, then down at the present, and then over to his mother as if checking it was okay. She smiled and nodded her head and he seemed to relax, shaking Nick’s hand and saying hello.
‘I forgot to get a card; I hope you don’t mind,’ said Nick, handing over the present.
‘Nah, that’s cool. Thanks, Mr Santos.’
‘Call me Nick.’
Jason looked up curiously from his unwrapping. ‘Sure—thanks, Nick.’ Then his attention went back to the present. ‘Oh, cool! Guys! Check this out. Wow! A World Cup soccer ball. Who wants to have a kick?’ He turned away to share his prize with his friends and then turned back. ‘Gee, thanks Mr Sa—I mean, thanks, Nick.’
Nick smiled and reached out a hand to ruffle his hair.
‘My pleasure. Go and have a kick with your friends. I hear you’re pretty good. I used to play a bit myself.’
Jason looked sideways up at him. ‘You want a kick too?’
Nick nodded. ‘Sounds good to me,’ he said, heading off after Jason. Before long the small backyard was full of eight kids and Nick, standing as far apart as they could get in the tiny space, kicking the ball to each other, dribbling it around the lawn, and practising headers between them. While they practised their tackling Nick was doing some pretty fancy footwork, successfully evading the kids trying to tackle him.
Alex could do nothing but stare after them, wondering what on earth was happening. ‘Close that mouth,’ Tilly suggested, ‘before some bird builds a nest in it.’
Alex looked at her. ‘Did you see that?’
‘Yep. They say boys never grow up. Looks like they’re right. Now, help me get some covers for this food. I suspect afternoon tea is going to be late.’
Ten minutes later the two women sat down and watched the others play while they enjoyed a cup of coffee. Alex was glad for the chance to think. Nick had said he’d come to see her—what was that all about? Or had he remembered she wanted to talk—was that why he’d come back?