by -Julia James
He eased them down, lifting her hips enough to free them from the rounded globes of her bottom, and slid her legs free of them. And then his hand returned to her.
If she had thought she could know no further bliss, she discovered with a breathless parting of her lips just how much bliss was yet to come. With the delicate, skilful tips of his fingers he played with her a while, exploring each delicate fold, loosening her, dewing her, readying her for his possession. And all the while his mouth worked its magic upon her breasts.
She was quivering with desire—aching with it, melting with it.
'Nikos—'^His name was an exhalation. An invocation. A plea.
He lifted his head and looked into her eyes. In the dim light they were deep, dilated pools. He smoothed his hand over her forehead. She gazed up at him, helpless with her desire. For one long, long moment he looked down at her.
She could not see his eyes. His face was shadowed, only the contours of his features visible.
He was the most beautiful man in the world.
'Nikos...' She breathed his name again, whispering it. Her thighs slackened as his hand moved from her, easing her legs apart.
He lifted himself and slowly, teasingly slow, glided into her, so smooth, so powerful that he filled her absolutely, completely.
For a moment, a brief, timeless moment, he stilled, and she could feel her muscles strain around him, enclosing him. Her fingers hovered on the smooth, warm skin of his shoulder s.
Then with absolute control he moved within her.
She felt the exquisite pleasure of his movement within her, stroking her, caressing her with the most intimate part of himself.
She sighed, sweet and susurrating.
Her eyes fluttered shut and she gave herself to the sensation. Her hands folded over his shoulders, feeling their strength, the smoothness of his skin, the muscles layered beneath.
So beautiful. He was so sublime, so male. And what he was doing to her was beyond words.
She breathed again, exhaling slowly, then breathing in again, taking him with her as she did so.
He went on stroking her, caressing her, and her body became one single point of sensation, just there, there, where her sensitivity was greatest, her arousal most exquisite.
She breathed his name again, her head moving slowly, as if submerged, and then, as if a slow underwater wave were welling through her, her body undulated. The sweetest honey was oozing through every vein, every nerve, reaching up, and up, and up—and releasing, out, out into her skin, her flesh, suffusing her body with one long, endless welling of sensation so exquisite she exhaled in a long, endless sighing.
And then, just as she felt the sensation begin to ebb, making her ache with the loss of it, he moved once more within her, and then again, in one slow, final, releasing surge, and the sensation was released in him, so it came again in her, again and again, over and over, wave after wave, sweetness after sweetness, until her body was a fusion of it, and nothing existed, could exist, would ever exist again. Her whole body was one exquisite, endless wave of sensation.
To the end, the very end, she let the sweet, honeyed wave carry her, oblivious to everything else, existing only in her own exquisite bliss. Until at last, at last it was no more, no last drop of honey remained.
She gave a long, languorous sigh, limbs slackening, muscles releasing.
Her eyelids fluttered. She should open her eyes, she thought dimly, vaguely. But her eyelids were too heavy, her limbs were too heavy.
'Nikos?' Her voice was a sigh.
A hand smoothed over her forehead.
'Shh...' he murmured.
'It was so beautiful...'
She felt his mouth on hers, soft and tender. Then he was coming down beside her, folding her to him, enclosing her.
'Nikos...' she breathed again.
His hand smoothed her thigh.
'So beautiful...'
Her eyes were heavy, limbs weak. Her breathing slowed, her heart rate calmed, and the warm peace of sleep crept over her.
* * *
Nikos watched her sleep, a smile curving his mouth. Her breasts rose and fell gently. They were soft again, soft and very beautiful, their skin paler than the surrounding flesh. His smile deepened. She could sunbathe nude here. There would be no one to see. The villa was his. He had bought it the day before yesterday, fully furnished, at the asking price. The agent had not been able to believe his luck. Nikos hadn't cared. One of the business appointments that he had used as an excuse to stay away from Janine that second day had been to take a helicopter trip here, to check • it out. He had bought it on the spot.
It was too beautiful not to possess.
His hand reached to smooth Janine's golden hair. Just as she was too beautiful not to possess.
A deep satisfaction filled him. He tried to remember the anger he'd felt about her, but it seemed impossible to recall. And it was irrelevant now, anyway. Janine would never go back to Demetria's husband—he had seen to that, irrevocably. His satisfaction deepened.
He curled a thread of hair around his finger. She really was so very, very lovely. Her body had melted around his, taking him with her in a fusion of the senses.
It had been good. Quite extraordinarily good.
He gave a soft, silent laugh. He had intended the experience to be incredible for her, not for him. That was, after all, the whole purpose of the exercise. To seduce her.
But she had made it incredible for him too.
He still wasn't really sure how. She had done nothing except accept everything he did to her. Absorb every sensation he aroused in her. Absorb it deep, deep within her. Then radiate it out again, as if she were molten in his arms.
It had been the intensity of her responsiveness that had aroused him so much, he realised. No other woman had ever responded to him like that.
He wanted to feel that response again.
He shifted position. He could feel his body reacting to that thought. He eased further back. Whatever he might want to do, first he must visit the bathroom. Then, when he returned, it would be time—oh, yes, time to rouse Janine from her slumber.
'Do you mean it? Do you really mean it?'
Janine's eyes were like stars.
Nikos raised his hand in a very Greek gesture. 'Of course. Why else should I have said we would stay here?'
'But your work—don't you have to be back in Athens?'
He shrugged. 'The villa is fully equipped—I can be online to my office whenever I choose. It will do perfectly well for a while. And I didn't buy this villa so that I would never get to spend time here!'
She shook her head. 'I still can't believe you bought a place like this just like that!'
He looked surprised. 'Why not? The villa is spectacular—and as an asset it will only increase in value. Property prices on Skarios are rising steadily as the island opens up for more tourism. It is a good investment. And—' his eyes washed purposefully over Janine '—it affords the privacy we need.'
He lowered his head to kiss her again. They were leaning, side by side, on the balustrade overlooking the pool. The sun had set. Above their heads the stars were pricking out, one by one. Ahead, the darkening sky was faintly tinged with a golden streak along the horizon.
A light wind was winnowing their faces.
As Nikos's mouth moved softly on hers Janine dared not think, only feel. This was bliss. When Nikos had told her just now about the villa, told her that it was his, that they were to stay here together, she had scarce dared believe it.
'I told you,' he had said, kissing her softly, 'that I could not stay away from you.'
She had searched his eyes. His expression had been full.
'I want you very much,' he had said, as softly as his kiss.
And he did want her—she'd had proof of that all the long, hot afternoon. Even now, as they stood here, his arm around her, she could feel the afterglow of his desire for her—of hers for him—in every part of her body.
Wonder fil
led her. Wonder that what she had wanted so much had come to her! That Nikos had swept her away to this beautiful private place to make love to her.
The outer world ceased to exist. Had ceased to exist since the moment when he had first kissed her here, and she had known there was but one destination for her. His bed.
She had gone gladly, rapturously, putting everything aside except this—this consummation of her desire for him. He had cast a glamour over her, woven a spell to enchant her, captivate her. And she could not resist him.
She leant against him, feeling his strength, his warmth. His arm tightened around her shoulder. Around her the world stilled, the moment captured. Time had stopped. She never wanted it to start again.
Nikos leant back in the wooden-slatted padded steamer chair set out on the terrace above the pool, sipping his beer and watching Janine swim slowly up and down. Her naked body parted the water, gliding forward, her blonde hair streaming behind her like a mermaid's tresses, iridescent in the submerged lighting of the pool, which turned every brush of water to champagne and limned her body with gold.
A near full moon was riding in the sky. Crickets clicked in the vegetation. Down below, on the beach, he could hear the low murmur of the sea. The faint wash from Janine's breast-stroke was the only other sound.
They had the world to themselves.
It felt good. Very good.
He took another mouthful of beer. When he'd first come here the moon had been nothing but a silver sliver. Since then the days had passed, timeless, measured only by the sun and the moon, by the intervals between making love to Janine.
Janine...
He let her name play on his lips.
In the water her body moved with sensuous grace. He watched her, feeling desire germinate yet again deep in his being. When she emerged he would take her again. So many times now...and each coming together had been unforgettable. Sensual, incredibly sensual, and her extraordinary responsiveness to him, which had so amazed him that very first time, had never abated, never ebbed. Every, every time he took her it was there, intensifying the experience beyond words, beyond rational thought.
But it was more than her responsiveness. He searched for a word that would fit, but it was elusive. Then it came to him.
There was a sweetness about possessing Janine that he had never expected. How could he have? She was a woman who had attached herself to a wealthy, married and older man, who was threatening his sister's marriage. There was nothing of sweetness in such an activity!
A faint frown crossed his forehead. The woman he held in his arms each night seemed so very different from how such a woman should be. A woman who took rich married men for her lovers! Such a woman as that he might feel desire for, yes, but other than that, nothing but contempt and anger... Yet those two last emotions were not there any longer, he realised, wonderingly. His frown deepened, How could that be? Where had those dark emotions about Janine Fareham gone? Where was his anger at what she had done to Demetria? Where was his contempt for her affair with Stephanos?
Why was the only feeling he now had towards her simply... desire? Pure, burning, incandescent desire. More overwhelming than he had ever known for any woman. All consuming, all powerful.
Why? Why was the woman in his arms, his bed, so different from what he had expected her to be as Stephanos's mistress? Here, with him, she simply didn't seem to connect with such a female.
His brow furrowed again. What was going on? And worse, why did he trouble himself with it? Trying to discover why it was that he felt now only desire for Janine Fareham—a woman he should hate, should despise, for the way she lived her life. A thread of unease ran through him, disturbing him.
He didn't want to think about her affair with Stephanos. He wanted to blot it out. Once again, as on the cruiser, he found himself wanting to think of Janine as if she were not another man's mistress.
As if she were simply his.
A slow smile curved his mouth. Well, she was his now, all right. He had brought her here and made her his own.
His eyes rested on her as she glided silently, steadily, through the silken waters, beneath the silver light of the moon.
So very beautiful... a timeless image to remember.
That was all he had to focus on. The simple fact that he wanted Janine Fareham—desired her more than any woman he could remember—and that he had got her.
He took another sip of beer. As he moved his hand moonlight glinted on his watch. Time, he thought, was marching inexorably on. Bringing Stephanos back to Greece, to the moment of inevitable confrontation.
He was not looking forward to it. It would be messy, and unpleasant—but it had to be done. For Demetria's sake.
And when it was over? What then? What would he do with Janine Fareham?
His smile turned mocking. Self-mocking. He already knew very well what he would do with her.
He was going to keep her. He wanted her far, far too much to let her go.
He was captivated by her. Captivated by her beauty, her sensuality, her sweetness. He admitted it. He hadn't wanted to be, but he was.
And he didn't want to fight it any more. Why should he?
He had achieved exactly what he'd set out to do—seduced Stephanos's mistress away from him and taken her himself. Whatever her reasons for having become his brother-in-law's mistress, she was finished with Stephanos now. He'd seen to that.
A stab of fierce, hard satisfaction went through him. Primitive, atavistic—and too powerful to deny. It might have been for Demetria's sake that he had started out on this course—but now he had a reason all of his own.
He wanted Janine for himself—and he didn't want Stephanos to have her.
The knowledge mocked him, but he didn't care. She had captivated him and that was that.
And where was the problem? There was no problem— Janine Fareham had been a problem only when she'd been a threat to his sister's happiness. That threat was over now—and he, he was free to enjoy her.
Desire her.
Sate himself on her.
Make her honeyed sweetness his own.
A sense of well-being eased through him. For as long as he wanted he would have Janine to himself. She was his, only his, from now on.
Nothing—and no one—could take her from him.
Janine walked along the sand. This early it felt cool to the touch, still shaded by the cliff from the morning light. Nikos was at his laptop, ensconced in the high-tech office, touching base with his affairs. For herself, she had time to wander on this beautiful, perfect gem of a private beach, letting the water wash around her feet as she walked slowly along, wondering at the happiness she felt. The air was clear, with not a breath of wind. The cruiser was gone from the quay, out on its daily journey to Skarios Town, where the crew picked up the provisions needed for the villa. Apart from when the chef came up to cook dinner, she and Nikos hardly saw them.
It was almost as if they were the only people in the world.
Like Adam and Eve, in a world new-made for them, and them alone.
She felt her heart squeeze. Something was happening to her, here in this beautiful, magical place. Something that overwhelmed her. That she could not deny, could not prevent. She halted, staring out to sea. The morning sun was pouring down upon its surface, making it too bright to look at. Little wavelets flowed over her bare feet.
Emotion welled through her.
An emotion she would not name. Dared not.
She didn't want to give it a name. Didn't want to admit it. Because what was the point of admitting it? She had given herself to Nikos because she could not have done otherwise. Because he desired her as intensely, as irresistibly as she desired him.
But there could be no future in it. None. She knew that. Knew it with a deep, deep pain that made her refuse to name the emotion that welled through her. He wanted her for now, that was all. He was as caught up with her as she with him, but for him, she knew with bleak certainty there would come a moment when it would
be over.
And what was the point? Oh, what was the point of dreaming of something that could never be? Not for a man like Nikos Kiriakis, for whom women were an endless stream.
For a second—a brief, tantalising, excruciating moment—she allowed herself to dream. Dream of a happiness so great that it would make her current state of bliss negligible in comparison!
Supposing—oh, just supposing Nikos felt the same emotion she felt. That same emotion that must not speak its name...
Supposing—oh, just supposing Nikos should turn to her . and take her hand, tell her he wanted her to be part of his life...
For just a few precious moments she let herself imagine such a thing.
Then, with a sigh, she went on walking.
She would have this time with Nikos, this precious time—the days of exploring each other's minds, the nights their bodies. And no one could take it away from her. Nothing could spoil it. It would be a precious, beautiful memory. Nothing could destroy it.
Cradling a glass of cold, fresh orange juice in one hand, Janine slid back the huge glass doors of the living room and stepped out onto the terrace. Nikos was already there, sitting at the shaded table, drinking coffee and reading the morning's paper. It had been delivered a short time ago, when the cruiser had returned from Skarios Town. She drifted up to him, feeling warm and languorous, her silky robe wafting around her. When she had come up from the beach Nikos had finished with his e-mails—and he'd been hungry.
But not for breakfast. He'd gathered her up in his arms, peeling off the strap-tied suntop and shorts she'd worn down to the beach to walk along the sand. He'd led her back to bed. Desire had lit his eyes.
An eternity later he'd shaved and showered while she slept in the aftermath of their passion, and now she was finally emerging herself, her body honeyed and replete.
She kissed his hair, and he lifted his eyes briefly from the paper to smile fleetingly at her, then took her seat opposite him. The day was heating, and she felt the strength of the sun even through the parasol.