by Sarah Morgan
‘But I’m learning fast.’
‘Too fast—’ He rolled her under him and brought his mouth down on hers. She felt the erotic slide of his tongue and there was a whoosh of heat through her body that settled itself in her pelvis. The feeling was so maddeningly good that she shifted her hips against him.
He cursed softly and flattened her to the bed. ‘You’re beautiful.’
Without giving her a chance to answer, he continued his intimate exploration of her body, the wickedly sensual stroke of his tongue driving her wild. Pleasure arced through her as he toyed lazily with the tip of each breast and she wriggled and arched, trying to ease the growing ache low in her pelvis.
No one had told her she was beautiful before but he did so now, again and again, in English, in Greek, and with his lips and hands until she was a writhing mass of sensation.
She hadn’t known it was possible to feel this good about herself.
‘Stop moving,’ Stefan groaned. ‘You have no idea how hard you’re making this for me.’
It was hard for him? For her it was torture, and when she felt him shift his weight and slide his hand over her quivering abdomen she thought she was going to explode.
‘Please, now,’ she begged.
He gave a ragged laugh and trailed his mouth lower. ‘No way. I’m just getting started, koukla mou.’
‘But I really want you to—’
‘I know you do,’ he growled, sheer overload of desire lending an edge to his voice, ‘but I want it to be good for you. Trust me.’
She wanted to tell him that it couldn’t possibly be anything but good, but the smooth slide of his hand to the top of her thighs robbed her of the power of speech. His clever fingers lingered for a moment, tormenting her and magnifying the ache until she was no longer aware of anything except her own physical need. He touched her there and she sobbed with pleasure because he knew everything she didn’t and wasn’t afraid to show her.
She rocked her pelvis against him and instantly he moved his hand.
‘Not yet. Stop moving.’
‘I can’t.’
‘You will. Just lie there. Just—don’t move.’ He locked his hand round her wrists and lifted her arms above her head. ‘Hold on and don’t let go until I give you permission.’
Her hands touched the cool metal of the pretty iron bedframe and she curved her fingers around it, holding on as he’d ordered, out of her mind with sheer overload of sensation. She wanted it all. The scent of his skin. The feel of his hands, his mouth, his body— ‘Please, Stefan—’
‘I don’t want to hurt you. I won’t hurt you.’
‘Please—’
‘Don’t speak.’ His voice thickened with raw need, Stefan parted her thighs.
She was surprised she didn’t feel embarrassed because it was full daylight, but she knew nothing she ever did with him would embarrass her—not even this.
This was his mouth on her, his tongue on her and in her, and she heard someone sobbing and realised that the sound was coming from her throat. He spread her wide, opening her to his gaze and his mouth, and his only concession to her innocence was his patience. With each skilled slide and lick of his clever tongue the warmth grew to heat, and it spread and consumed her until holding onto the bed felt like holding on for her life, because it was the only thing anchoring her. He demanded everything and she gave him what he demanded because she was no longer in control. He was.
It was almost a relief to feel the first fluttering of her body but he immediately stilled.
‘No. Not yet.’ His voice was rough. ‘Relax. Do you hear me? Relax.’
She was almost crazy with the need and she tried to move her hips against his hand, but he withdrew his fingers from her gently.
‘Not yet. I want to be inside you when you come. I want to feel it. Be part of it.’
Her eyes had closed but now they flickered open and she was treated to a close-up private view of sheer masculine power. Dressed, he was gorgeous, but undressed he was spectacular. Bronzed skin sheathed smooth curves of hard muscle and the dark hair that hazed the centre of his chest trailed down over his flat stomach and disappeared out of view. But she’d already seen and she knew, and she wanted to know more.
‘Then do it,’ she begged hoarsely. ‘Do it now. Please. You’re driving me crazy.’
‘So impatient.’ A sexy smile hovering on his mouth, Stefan shifted over her and curved her leg behind his back. ‘I’m going to torture you with pleasure,’ he murmured against her mouth, ‘until you’re mindless and begging—’
‘I’m begging now.’ Her gaze collided with his and every bone in her body melted under the fire in his eyes. ‘It’s you. You make me—crazy.’
His thick dark lashes lowered fractionally and he lowered his mouth to hers again, his kiss teasing and seductive. ‘This is just the beginning.’ The subtle stroke of his tongue and his skilled exploration of her mouth left her shaking and Selene kissed him back, her uninhibited response drawing a similar degree of reaction from him.
She was dimly aware that Stefan had pulled back slightly—that he was reaching for something from the table by the bed.
A moment later he slid one hand into her hair. Dazed and desperate, Selene’s eyes collided with the fierce passion in his.
‘If I hurt you, tell me,’ Stefan said thickly, his other hand sliding under her writhing hips as he lifted her against him.
She could feel the male power of him but she was so wet, so ready, and she knew he’d done that for her, done everything he could to make her first time good.
His body felt hard, male and thoroughly unfamiliar. She closed her eyes and held her breath, just waiting, waiting, conscious of his leashed power and superior strength and wondering how this could possibly work out well despite his skill.
Braced for discomfort, she was surprised by his gentleness and care.
She’d expected him to thrust, but he entered her slowly, carefully, and she held her breath, the feeling of warmth and fullness taking her by surprise. She felt him pause and then his mouth brushed hers as he kissed her gently.
‘Relax and open your eyes. I want you looking at me. If I’m hurting you, I want to know.’
She opened them.
Her heart slamming against her chest, Selene stared up at him, her gaze trapped by his. It was clear how much each slow, purposeful stroke was costing him and Selene slid her hands over his shoulders, feeling tension under hard, sleek muscle.
And then he did thrust, as if he could no longer help himself. He thrust deep and she held her breath because it felt like too much.
Buried deep inside her, Stefan sensed the change in her and paused, his breathing uneven and his eyes darkened to a dangerous shade of black. ‘You feel incredible,’ he said thickly. ‘Tell me you’re OK—say something.’
But she couldn’t speak. Couldn’t find any words to express what she was feeling. All she could do was move and when she did that the breath hissed through his teeth.
‘I’ll take that as an indication that I’m not hurting you.’ He groaned, dropping his mouth to hers. His kiss was raw, passionate and hotly sexual, the skilled slide of his tongue winding the excitement tighter and tighter until Selene was aware of nothing except the building tension in her body.
Each controlled thrust of his body was designed to draw the maximum response from hers until the ache inside her grew agonising, her need for him a ravenous hunger that swept away sanity. Heat engulfed her as he drove her towards the peak with a smooth, expert rhythm and then her body tightened and she was launched into an entirely different world, a world that consisted of nothing but her and this man—just the two of them, blended in every way that mattered. Overwhelmed by sheer physical excitement, she was trapped in a vicious cycle of pleasure that sent spasm after spasm of pulsing ecstasy th
rough her thoroughly over-sensitised body and drove him to the same point.
It was the most perfect moment of her life.
And when she finally emerged from that suspended state of erotic intensity, Stefan kissed her gently and rolled onto his side, taking her with him, stroking her hair away from her face with a hand that wasn’t quite steady.
‘That,’ he said hoarsely, ‘was incredible.’
Dazed, Selene kept her face against his shoulder, but he gave a low laugh and forced her to look at him.
‘You’re not hiding from me.’ He stroked her flushed cheek with gentle fingers, his gaze searching. ‘Are you OK?’
Lifting her head, Selene tumbled into that dark gaze. ‘I feel amazing,’ she mumbled. ‘It’s better than champagne.’
Humour in his eyes, he drew her head to his and kissed her. ‘Much better than champagne...’
Still dazed by her own shocking reaction to him, Selene closed her eyes.
She’d been worried her dream wouldn’t live up to expectation, but it had.
He made her feel utterly desirable, irresistible and beautiful, and she’d never felt like that in her life before—had never imagined it was possible to feel like this. ‘Thank you,’ she murmured, wrapping her arms around his neck. ‘Thank you for making it special.’
He muttered something inaudible in Greek and lowered his forehead to hers. ‘I am now officially addicted to your body.’
Selene smiled up at him, feeling like a cross between a goddess and a seductress. ‘I think I’m possibly addicted to yours, too.’
‘Good. In that case I’m going to break one of my unbreakable rules and keep you here for another night.’
That statement was a reality check. A dark cloud passing in front of the sun. A reminder that this part of her life hadn’t officially started yet. Soon. ‘I can’t do that. I have to go home.’ Disappointment thudded through her and he lifted his head and frowned.
‘Why?’
‘I have to get back to Antaxos.’
‘I thought you wanted to assert your independence?’
‘I do. And to do that I have to go back to Antaxos.’ She told herself that was her decision. She was going back for her mother, not her father. And nothing, not even the thought of going home, was going to spoil this moment. Her active mind quickly spun a scenario where she was living here with Stefan, spending her days with her body tangled with his.
She stared up at him, wondering if he was imagining the same thing, but his handsome face was inscrutable.
‘Returning home isn’t asserting your independence. It’s regressing.’
‘It’s just a temporary thing.’ She’d kept her plan secret, protected it as carefully as a mother would her child, desperate for it to grow, but all her defences were ripped away after the intimacies they’d shared. ‘I have to get back to the island before my father returns and discovers I’ve gone. If he knows I came to you it will be difficult for me.’
‘Returns?’ There was a sudden tension in his shoulders. ‘You mean he isn’t there?’
‘No. Once a year he spends a week on Crete. That’s how I was able to get away.’
She wondered why they were spoiling the moment by talking about her father.
She wondered why he was suddenly so still. Why his expression was guarded.
‘So you were hoping to return and leave again without him knowing?’
‘Of course. Why do you think I came to you? Why do you think I dressed as a nun? He never would have let me leave had he been on the island. I’ve planned this for so long—you have no idea.’
‘Why go back at all? Stay here with me.’
The invitation was so tempting. ‘I can’t do that. There are things I need from the island—’ Years of playing a part stopped her revealing that final secret part of herself. It was how they lived. Pretending that this was normal. Keeping up the show for the outside world. ‘Important things. But I don’t plan to stay for any time at all. I have to be away again before he returns.’
‘Because you’re afraid he won’t want you to leave? Stand up to him.’ His tone cooler, Stefan eased himself away from her and sat up. ‘Show him you’re a grown-up and he might treat you that way.’
Missing the intimacy, Selene sat up, too. ‘You don’t know my father.’
‘I know that being independent means taking responsibility for your actions and owning them. There is no reason to hide this from him. Tell him you’re with me. Show him you’re not afraid.’
She was afraid. She’d be a fool not to be and she wasn’t a fool.
Selene thought about what happened when someone stood up to her father and she thought of her mother, alone and vulnerable on Antaxos.
‘I can’t do that. Not yet.’ The magic had gone so she slid from the bed.
She felt different.
She felt beautiful.
She was aware of herself in a way that felt new. And she was aware of him. Of the way he watched her as she picked a dress from the clothes he’d bought her. Of the way he looked, his eyes hooded and his jaw shadowed by blue-black stubble.
‘Come back to bed. I’ll fly you back to Antaxos later if that’s what you want. We’ll pick up whatever it is you need and then you can come back to Athens with me. I’ll help you with your business.’
‘I have to do this by myself.’
She walked into the bathroom and turned on the shower, letting the jets of water slide over her body. Closing her eyes, she reached for the soap but he was there before her.
‘This soap smells like you.’
She smiled and pushed her soaking-wet hair away from her face as he slid his hands down her body. ‘It’s my soap. It comes in the same three scents as the candles.’
‘At least you know a bit more about seduction now.’
As he kissed her neck she closed her eyes, but this time the anxiety twisting inside her prevented her from relaxing.
Reluctantly, she pulled away from him and grabbed a towel.
‘I have to go.’
It felt urgent now, to get this done so that she could start her new life. Excitement bubbled under the feeling of apprehension. She walked back into the bedroom and picked up the pretty linen dress she’d chosen from the clothes he’d provided. Her hesitation was driven by years of living with her father. He wasn’t here, and yet she could hear his voice telling her to change into something more suitable. Telling her that the dress was too short, too eye-catching, too—everything.
Then she remembered her father wasn’t going to see her wearing it.
From now on the only time she heard his voice would be in her head.
There would be no row because this was the last time she was going home and her father wouldn’t be there.
Stefan strolled back into the bedroom, a towel knotted around his lean hips.
Determined not to be distracted, Selene let her own towel drop to the floor and reached for the dress.
Behind her she heard the sharp intake of his breath. Assuming his response was because she was naked, she lifted her head and smiled at him. He was looking at her body.
‘Theé mou, did I do that? I hurt you?’ He was across the room in three strides, his hands gentle on her arms as he turned her and took a closer look at her back and then her arms. ‘You have bruises. Finger-marks.’
Selene twisted away from him and pulled the dress over her head quickly. ‘It’s fine. It’s nothing.’ It wasn’t nothing, of course, but it wasn’t anything she wanted him to know about. It was her past and she wanted it to stay in her past.
His face was suddenly pale. ‘I thought I’d been gentle.’
‘You were gentle. You were brilliant. Honestly, Stefan, it’s nothing—’ She stumbled over the words, feeling guilty that she had to let him think th
at but unable to give him an alternative explanation. ‘And now I really need to go.’
‘You should have told me I was hurting you. I would have stopped.’
‘You didn’t hurt me.’ No way could she tell him, or anyone, the truth—and she didn’t need to because she was fixing it. ‘I just bruise easily, OK? It’s nothing to do with you.’ Not looking at him, she scooped her damp hair into a ponytail.
Now that the moment had come, she just wanted it over with. She wanted to get it done. ‘I’ll take the ferry to Poulos and the nuns will take me back by boat.’
‘I’ll take you back to Antaxos.’
‘No! Someone might see you and call my father. I can’t risk him knowing I’ve left the island. I need a head start on him.’
‘Selene—’ His tone raw, Stefan dragged his hand through his hair and shot her a look she couldn’t interpret. ‘He probably already knows.’
In the process of sliding her feet into her shoes, she assumed she’d misheard him. ‘How can he possibly know? He’s with one of his women. He won’t be home for another six days.’
‘He knows because he will have seen the photographs.’
‘Photographs?’ Selene stared at him, her brain infuriatingly slow as she tried to make sense of what he was saying. ‘What photographs?’
‘The photographs of us together. You and me.’
‘Someone took photographs?’ Selene felt physically nauseated. The bag slipped from her hand. ‘How could they? This is your home. There were no journalists. Please tell me you’re joking.’
‘I’m not joking.’
‘No—’ She felt the colour drain from her face, felt her fingers grow cold and her body sway. She saw the sudden narrowing of his eyes as he saw the change in her.
‘I don’t see why it would bother you. Nothing else has bothered you. Drinking too much champagne, waking up in my bed, having sex—’
‘That’s different. My father doesn’t know about any of that.’ Or at least she hadn’t thought he did.