One-Click Buy: November Harlequin Presents

by Susan Stephens

  He hadn’t realised quite what a spectacular body she had been hiding under the loose, floating dresses and skirts she had been wearing since she had arrived at the villa a few days before. It had been obvious that her shape was supremely feminine, curved in all the right places, but he hadn’t been able to guess at this. If he had noticed the pallor of her skin a moment before, now he saw how the flow of her blood just beneath the surface flooded her smooth flesh with a soft pink glow that gave it a lustre like the finest pearls. Against that paleness, the gleaming darkness of her hair was shocking, especially when combined with the unique soft colour of her eyes.

  Her shoulders were softly rounded, curving down to slender arms, and in the vulnerable hollow where they joined the base of her neck—one of the most entrancing parts of a woman, he had always believed—her pulse beat hard and fast, betraying the way she was feeling.

  Just for a moment he caught her eyes, saw the way she was watching him and felt his own heart kick hard as her darkened gaze locked with his. Was she really so unsure of herself? He tried a smile, aiming for the encouragement he believed she needed.

  ‘You look—beautiful.’

  And he meant it. Meant it in a way that he would never have thought possible. It was as if, just for a moment, as she’d got to her feet something in the world had slipped, tilted, and then clicked back into place. But it wasn’t quite the same now. Not quite as it had been before.

  But for the life of him he couldn’t say how.

  He couldn’t think about it now. He didn’t want to think about it. What he wanted to think about was the woman who stood before him, tall and slender and so, so feminine in the clinging one-piece.

  ‘Beautiful…’

  Her legs were longer that he’d ever imagined, seeming to go on for ever from the high-cut legs of the costume, and the way that it clung to every curve, smoothed over the swell of her breasts, the neat indentation of her waist made his mouth dry with hunger. He wanted to reach for her, pull her towards him, enfold her in his arms and kiss her senseless.

  Hell, he wanted to do so much more than that!

  Something of what he was feeling must have shown in his face and he saw those rich lashes lift even higher as her wary eyes widened.

  Her hands fluttered up again, came to rest above the scooped neckline of the costume, crossing over, covering the rich curves of her breasts and the shadowy valley between.

  ‘No…’

  His tone was sharp and, stepping forward, he caught hold of those concealing hands, pulling them away from her, gently but firmly. And although she tensed for a moment, clearly thought about resisting, she gave in and went with him, a faint sigh escaping her as her white teeth worried at the fullness of her bottom lip. A lip that he could see was trembling in spite of her efforts at control.

  ‘No…’ Andreas repeated, more softly this time. ‘No, agape mou— never hide yourself from me. Never.’

  ‘But—you—I…’

  Her voice was just a breathless whisper and she seemed to struggle to get the words out. It wasn’t just her lip that was trembling now; he could feel the faint tremors that shook the fine lines of her body as his arms came round her, supporting her when she seemed so nervous that she might actually fall.

  ‘No…’ he said again, leaning forward to press the words against her mouth. ‘Never be shy with me. Why would you want to hide such loveliness, when any man would delight in seeing you—holding you…?’

  ‘I…’

  Never be shy with me…

  Becca barely heard the words above what seemed like the sound of a million buzzing bees inside her head, humming wildly and loudly as they whirled and twisted in a crazy flying dance that made her thoughts spin, her senses blur. Andreas thought that she was trembling all over because she was shy; because she was apprehensive as to what the man she was with would think of her when she first exposed her body in the clinging swimming costume to his assessing gaze. And he couldn’t have been more wrong.

  Or, rather, he was right but in a back-to-front sort of way.

  She was nervous all right, apprehensive definitely, but not for the reasons he thought. Not because it was the first time he had seen her this way, wearing so little—but because of the exact opposite. Because she knew he had seen her dressed this way before and she didn’t know if seeing her dressed in the costume again would remind him, jar loose whatever blockage was closing off his memory of the past from the reality of today, bring him back to himself in a rush.

  And she was scared stiff that he was going to repeat his behaviour of that day and throw her out of the villa before she had a chance to talk to him, to even try to explain.

  ‘Andreas…’

  Her mouth was so dry with fear that his name had an embarrassingly squeaky sound, and she caught herself up, swallowing hard to try to ease the constriction in her throat.

  ‘Thank you…’ she managed, sounding better at least, but not much.

  To her astonishment Andreas shook his head, sending the black hair, still wet from his swim, flying around his head.

  ‘Ochi—no again.’

  Somehow his use of his own language made his voice richer, deeper, more sensual, so that Becca caught in her breath as she heard it. And when he laid a single forefinger against her lips to silence her she felt her senses swirl again but in a very different way this time. The scent of his skin filled her nostrils, tantalising her nerves. She had to fight against the urge to open her mouth just so…and let her tongue slide out to curl around it, him, know the taste of his flesh on hers.

  ‘I am the one who should be thanking you.’

  ‘For—for what?’ Becca questioned against his hand.

  ‘For staying.’

  ‘But you asked me to—and I was supposed to…’

  ‘That is not what I mean.’

  Looking deep into her confused eyes, Andreas moved the restraining finger, lifting it to the middle of her forehead and tracing his way along her hairline, stroking a gentle pathway round to her temple and down along her cheek, sliding it under her chin to lift her face to his.

  ‘Don’t you know that in a way you’re the person I know best? The others—Leander, Medora—I don’t remember the last year I spent with them—but that doesn’t matter so much to me. We are as we have always been. But you—you’re the one I feel I’ve come to know in the days you’ve been here. The one I’ve grown closer to. And I want to be closer…so much closer…’

  ‘Oh, don’t!’

  The cry escaped her in a panic, before she had even considered what she might say if he asked her to explain her reasons for the protest. She couldn’t let him go on like this—couldn’t…

  But Andreas wasn’t listening and the next moment any chance she had of saying more evaporated in a rush as those strong fingers under her chin exerted just a little bit more pressure, tilting her face up higher, coming closer to his. And his mouth came down on hers in a kiss that stole all thought away and took her senses with it.

  Andreas’ kiss started out slow, almost light, but in the space of a heartbeat it had moved from gentle through enticing until it got to hungry and insistent. And in spite of her fears, or perhaps because of them, Becca found that she didn’t have the strength to fight him. She didn’t want to fight him. With the realisation of how much she still loved him right at the forefront of her thoughts, she gave herself up to that kiss, melting into his arms, feeling their strength tighten around her, holding her close.

  She was pressed up against him, against the warm expanse of his naked chest, with her head resting on the hardness of his shoulder, under the smooth stretch of tanned, golden skin. The black haze of hair that covered his chest was soft underneath her chin and she sighed and rubbed her face against it, feeling it tickle her. Under the clinging swimsuit her breasts tightened and stung with need, the hardened nipples pushing against the constricting cloth, and desire was a heated, pulsing pool low down in her body.

  ‘Becca…’

 
; Her name was a raw sound on Andreas’ tongue, thick and guttural, the sound of a hunger that matched her own.

  This time when he took her lips again his kiss burned and demanded, his arms crushing her to him. And Becca went willingly, the thunder of need in her heart drowning out any weak voice of attempted caution. This was what she wanted; what she needed now. She didn’t care about the past, had no thought of the future. What she wanted was right here in the present. Hers for the taking.

  And she was going to take it.

  She had spent almost a year mourning the loss of this passion in her life, hating the way that world seemed cold and hard and empty without it. Now she had one chance—probably one last chance—to experience the scalding pleasure of being here, where she most wanted to be, in Andreas’ arms, with his kiss crushing her mouth, his hands hot and hard on her. And it was what she most wanted in all the world.

  Those powerful hands were stroking over her skin, moving down along the straight line of her spine, leaving burning trails in their wake as if his touch was actually hot enough to mark her, brand her as his for all time to come. The feel of it made her moan aloud, arching her back like a small, sensual cat that stretched into a caress.

  The movement brought her right up against him, against the heated swell of his powerful erection, a potent force that she felt almost as strongly as if she were naked, there was so little clothing to come between them. Just the heat of it made her breath catch in her throat and she swayed softly, turning her whole pelvis into a caress that had him snatching in air in a rush like a drowning man.

  ‘Becca!’

  It was half protest, half encouragement and he clamped his big hands on the tight curve of her buttocks, holding her still, but keeping her pressed hard and tight against his burning flesh.

  The words he muttered in her ear were in thick, rough Greek, and so incomprehensible to her, but she didn’t need to know the language to understand, at the most basic, primitive level, exactly what he was saying to her. And it was something she wanted to say right back.

  ‘I want you…’

  She choked it out, the knot of need in her throat almost preventing her from finding her voice.

  ‘Want…want…want you!’

  ‘Nai…’

  His response was as rough-voiced as her own, but he didn’t need speech to show her he understood—and shared—the yearning that was clawing at her deep inside. With a swift, sudden tensing of the powerful muscles in his shoulders and back, he swung her off her feet and up into his arms, turning towards the still open door behind him.

  ‘Andreas…’

  A sudden rush of embarrassment at the thought of being carried through the house like this brought his name to her lips.

  ‘What if we meet Medora—or Leander—on the way?’

  But Andreas shook his head instantly, dismissing her concerns with a smile.

  ‘We’re all alone,’ he told her with a deep intensity that seared all the way along every nerve path until it made her toes curl tightly in response. ‘No one will bother us. And I’m sure as hell not making love to you on the pool-house floor.’

  Becca barely noticed the journey through the house—up the stairs. It was only as Andreas shouldered open a door and carried her over to the bed that she realised where they were.

  The master bedroom. The room that should have been theirs when they were married. The room that she had never shared with him—at least to sleep. Had some unconscious part of his mind directed his footsteps this way, or was it simply coincidence?

  The question left her head as soon as it had entered it because in the same moment Andreas lowered her to the floor, sliding her down the length of his body as he did so. And before her feet had actually hit the ground, he had hooked his fingers into the thin straps of the swimsuit and peeled them off her shoulders, down to her waist…

  His mouth followed the same path, kissing his way from the hollow where her hungry pulse throbbed, and down over the curve of her breast, making her catch her breath in shocked delight.

  ‘I know, kalloni mou…’

  She could hear the smile in his voice, feel it on the lips that caressed her skin, and her own mouth curved into a wide, brilliant smile of pure delight, her head going back as she gave herself up to his skilled caress.

  ‘It’s how I feel too. How you make me feel.’

  His head was moving even lower now as the little that was left of the lavender-coloured costume was eased from her, his mouth caressing every inch of the creamy skin he exposed. When he paused to let his tongue slide into the shallow indentation of her navel, drawing a sensual circle all around it, Becca could not hold back a small cry of response, her hands coming out, clutching at his hair, twisting in the black, silky strands as she held him closer to her.

  He was kneeling before her now, helping her to step away from the bundle of lavender Lycra, tossing it aside without even looking, his attention totally focused on pleasuring her. The feel of his kisses over the cluster of dark hair between her legs made her writhe in sensual anticipation in the same moment that she tugged at the hair she held, wanting him closer, needing more of him, his heat against her, the scent of his body enclosing her. She wanted him everywhere, all of him, and every kiss, every touch made her hungrier, needier than ever before.

  ‘Anypomonos— impatient!’ Andreas laughed, the warmth of his breath feathering over her skin, stirring the curls, whispering around the sensitised opening between her legs. ‘But I like that in you. I like to know that you’re as hot for me as I am for you.’

  ‘Know it…’ Becca managed in a broken whisper, feeling the flood of need moisten her most intimate core, her breath catching in her throat as he began to kiss her once more—but reversing his path this time, caressing up and up until that tormenting, knowing mouth was pressed against the warm underside of one tingling, aching breast.

  ‘Know it…’ she said again, this time on a heartfelt sigh. ‘I want you—need you…’

  Now that he was upright again she could touch him herself, release her grip on his hair, only to explore more of his powerful male body, letting her needy fingers wander over the hot, tight skin, smooth the potent muscles that flexed and tautened beneath her touch. She didn’t know where she wanted him the most, his hands at her breasts, teasing the straining nipples into harder, tighter peaks, his mouth on hers, his slick tongue probing in heated imitation of the more intimate invasion she longed for. She wanted all of him, above her, on her—inside her.

  ‘These will have to go.’

  It was a muttered reproach as her fingers encountered the waistband of his shorts, tugging impatiently, pushing them down, a sigh of satisfaction escaping her as she exposed the smooth warmth of his waist, the firm, muscled stretch of his buttocks. But then, as the shorts fell to the floor and he kicked them aside, not taking his attention from the devastation his hands and mouth were working on her, she let her hands slide between them, closing over the hottest, hardest part of him and smoothing her thumbs down its straining length. Her heart kicked sharply, her own hunger growing, pooling hotly between her legs as she heard his groan of anguished pleasure.

  ‘Witch!’ he muttered hoarsely, tearing his mouth away from hers to drag in a gasp of much-needed air. ‘Tormentor—temptress…!’

  And with a hunger too strong for care, too ardent for gentleness, he half lifted, half pushed her backwards, tumbling her down onto the bed so that she landed on the pillows with a gasp, her legs splaying out from the shock of her landing.

  Andreas came down beside her before she had a chance to recover. His hands reached for her breasts, cupping them and lifting them to his mouth, his wicked tongue encircling each pouting nipple in turn, drawing erotic patterns around them, making her squirm and sigh in restless need before he concentrated all his attention on one, drawing the distended peak into his mouth and sucking softly.

  At the same time his long body moved over hers, powerful, hair-roughened legs coming between her splayed on
es. Pushing them even further apart, he settled himself so that the heated force of his erection just touched the central core of her body, so near and yet so far from offering her the complete fulfilment that she yearned for.

  ‘Andreas!’ she muttered in impatient protest, clenching her jaw tight over the needy words that almost escaped her. She wouldn’t beg…‘Don’t tease…’

  ‘Tease, agape mou?’ he questioned softly, a wicked smile on his lips—but one that was belied by the haze of passion that clouded his eyes, the slash of heat that scored the wide cheekbones. ‘What makes you think that I am teasing? I merely want to make sure that this is what you want. That—’

  ‘You know it’s what I want!’ Becca clenched her hands into tight fists and pounded them against the rock-hard wall of his chest so close above her. Andreas grabbed at the flailing hands, holding them round the wrists and bringing them down on either side of her, holding her prisoner.

  ‘Do you?’

  ‘Oh, I do—I do—I do—Andreas—please…’

  ‘Ah, well, when you ask so nicely…’

  Andreas shifted slightly, pushing himself closer, almost where she wanted him…and then pausing again.

  ‘Andreas…’ Becca began warningly.

  ‘Then who am I to deny a lady?’

  ‘You—!’

  Whatever she had been about to say was broken on a sharp cry of fulfilment as Andreas abandoned all pretence at teasing and eased himself into her waiting, welcoming body in one long, hard thrust.

  ‘Andreas!’

  This time his name was a wild, keening sound of delight, one that was pushed back into her throat as his mouth clamped down hard on hers, his strong body moving against hers, setting up an erotic rhythm that made her pulses throb in heady delight. Closing her eyes tight, the better to enjoy the feeling, she arched against him, abandoning herself to the sensual pleasure of his possession.

  In the space between one frantic heartbeat and the next the smouldering embers of need sparked into wild, burning flames of hunger. Hunger that knew no restraint, allowed for no holding back. Finding themselves free, Becca’s hands reached for Andreas, clamped tight over those powerful shoulders, her nails digging into the warm flesh of his back, a sob of excitement escaping her as she gave herself up to the glorious sensations they were creating between them.