by Anne Mather
‘Why?’ Angry eyes met his. ‘I’m not here to talk, remember?’
‘Maybe I want to get to know you.’
‘Maybe you wouldn’t like what you found out.’ She held her breath, scared how close she was to revelation, but also scared of his reaction. Because how could Xante believe she didn’t have another agenda, that her appalling finances had nothing to do with her feelings for him?
Feelings.
The admission came like a slap. There were feelings, real, solid feelings, which she had known were there all along. Because without feelings she would have never agreed to this. ‘Maybe if you knew the truth it would ruin things.’
‘You’re right.’ He thought about it for a moment then said it again. ‘You’re right.’ He ran a hand along the curve of her waist, reminded himself again of the real reason she was here. ‘It took me a while to get over Athena, but she did me a favour. Love is for fools, Karin. Always there is an agenda; always it is not as it seems.’
‘Not always …’ She could feel tears running down the back of her nose, because she didn’t want it to be so. She still wanted to believe that love could, did, always win in the end; she was arguing with herself more than him. ‘Look at your parents; they were in love.’
‘So you are left a fool, or you are left living a life in mourning.’ He shook his head, his the voice of reason. ‘It is better this way. This way—where we both know what we want, where there are advantages for both of us. And no one needs to get hurt.’
Except she was hurting already.
Missing him already, because surely soon he would be gone.
Since Xante had come into her life, it had changed. Somehow, despite the poor image he had of her, she had felt looked after. When trouble had come, she had someone she could call for the first time since her grandparents.
That day at Twickenham, she had felt safe with him by her side—and she felt safe now. Safe enough to kiss him. She had to kiss him, not because he demanded it, but because she wanted it too and very soon, she would.
She wanted to know what it felt like to be in the arms of a passionate man, to be held and caressed and made love to, before truth stepped in and claimed her. She wanted to just hold onto this moment for as long as she could, so she might take it out again at a future date and replay it.
He was stretched out beside her, still propped on his elbow, and as he reached to get his drink his shirt lifted, offering Karin a glimpse of his flat, toned stomach, of a snake of black hair … and this time Karin didn’t avert her eyes.
This time, Xante didn’t make a smart comment when he caught her looking.
‘I don’t bite.’ His voice was thick with lust, the air still and silent, and there was nowhere to hide. But this time Karin didn’t want to.
‘Promise.’
He pulled her towards him, his mouth on hers exquisite. His face was cold, his warm tongue rolling around hers, capturing it, sucking on it, and she could have kissed him like this for ever. Except kisses couldn’t last for ever, at least not a kiss as good as this one. He was pulling at her top, but she moved his hands away, instead sliding off his shirt, feeling the satin of his skin beneath her palms. He rolled her onto her back and, kneeling up, he straddled her, still kissing her as he did so, trapping her with his knees, his hands holding her wrists loosely above her head, just kissing her till she craved more contact, till her body was squirming beneath him. Her hips rose but he wouldn’t relent, just confined her in the delicious space that he had created, and tormented her so with his mouth till she could take it no more and she was rewarded with his full weight. Her skirt was up around her waist, his erection pressing hard into her groin, stroking her through his trousers. Karin stroked him back, the motion of her hips involuntary as she rubbed into him. He slid her panties down, and she could feel the cool air between her legs, then warm, patient fingers stroked her so slowly that for just a second she forgot and entered this gorgeous sweet place where it was only them. A place not sullied or tainted where her body was hers, and his was his, to do with what they would.
His other hand was moving to her blouse again, wrestling it from her waistband, and she knew Xante wanted her naked. It was for other reasons that she pushed him away this time. Now she wanted the moment that had eluded her for so long. She grappled with his heavy leather belt, her trembling fingers wrestling with the buckle, and then finally she held the delicious, strong length.
For Xante her tender exploration was more than he could take, his erection so fierce that he knelt up on his heels, holding her hips in his hands and even the short distance seemed too long now. He didn’t understand her. She was pleading with him to go on, purring his name, begging her demands. Yet her eyes were wide and he could feel an intimate resistance as he entered that had Xante in heady ecstasy. With each measured thrust she gripped him tightly; it was a case of one step forward and two steps back, and then he was in, and he just melted deep in to her. Since the first time he had laid eyes on Karin, she had consumed him—and now he consumed her.
For Karin, it was heaven.
Those shallow, first thrusts slowly beckoning her closer.
His maleness pressed on top of her, inside her; the sheer relief of a body that worked, that this man who had made her a woman, was swelling and bucking inside her.
She could feel his abandonment, feel this powerful man temporarily lose control, and she lost it too and gave in to a sensation that ripped through her body. A decadent rush of feeling shot from her spine to her scalp, made her thighs convulse, and took her head to a place where red was all she could see and skin all she could feel. Feel the rapid friction of him against her, the greedy pull of her centre as it accepted every precious drop. This frantic, urgent coupling taking place for Xante bought a heady relief, but there was a thud as he came down. Holding her in his arms, he stared up at the tree tops, running a hand along her goose-bumped arm. Xante could feel the thick flesh of the scar on her wrist, only he wasn’t feeling it idly.
For the first time, as he lay replete on the mountain with a woman in his arms, still there was more from her he wanted.
More, Xante was sure, than Karin would ever give.
CHAPTER NINE
THE Greek sun, even thin and weak in winter, still worked its magic.
He watched the tension slowly seep out of her. There was a pale smatter of freckles that had appeared on her upper thigh, Xante saw as she dozed on the day-bed beside him, wearing the white bikini he had bought her, but with a sheer-turquoise shirt tied around her midriff. A heavy, hand-crafted silver Byzantium bangle he had bought her when they had come down from the mountains and wandered through the village shops of his home town rested on her wrist, covering the scar he knew was there. Her creamy cleavage spilled out of the bikini top, the only ripe flesh on her lean slender body—yet Karin seemed to hate it, keeping herself covered when Xante wanted to see all of her.
They had returned to the villa and had stayed on for an extra couple of nights.
Karin slept a lot, ate fresh, good food, and walked on the beach every day.
The Aegean Sea was for once to Xante beautiful, still and peaceful as the sky turned orange. Yet it was Karin he was watching now, and wondering why the sex between them hadn’t rid his system of this woman.
Xante’s body tightened in recall at their love-making—which was what it had been; sex was such an inadequate word to describe the places they had taken each other to. But, despite the closeness, always Karin held back, always she left him wanting more.
Maybe in three months he’d become bored with her, Xante tried to tell himself.
Maybe in three months’ time he’d find that plummy accent grating, or her chaste ways irritating.
He wanted more from her.
He wanted an open door on the shower, and for her to swim naked in his pool. He wanted her to revel in the body she seemed so ashamed off, and he wanted more of her than he’d ever wanted from any other woman. Certainly more than Karin was pre
pared to give.
They were flying out in a couple of hours. Evening was creeping up too soon, and for all his power Xante realised how little he really had. Night would fall and dawn would follow, his plane would lift off at seven and by midnight it would all be over.
Which was as it should be.
Emotions confused things. Relationships should be treated like a good business transaction, Xante reminded himself—mutually beneficial—which this was. Their whirlwind romance was still making the papers. Xante Rossi, the fisher boy from Greece, was finally accepted as one of the English elite. His in-boxes were full of new contacts, new invites, a whole new world for him to enter—and Karin would have the rose back.
He should be delighted how things had turned out.
He was delighted, Xante told himself.
Only why, for the first time in years, did he suddenly want to stay in Greece for a while longer?
He was stroking the curve of her waist, just idly exploring the contours without really thinking, his fingers tracing the dip and then the rise to the curve of her hips. It was only when she moved a touch that Xante consciously realised he was touching her. Relaxed in sleep, she’d never been more beautiful, her body stirring at his tender command, as if in her dreams she was waiting for him to join her.
In that lovely place between sleep and wake it was so easy for Karin not to think about tomorrow, and the next day, and the future without Xante; so easy to just lie here and let his hands bathe her body. She had come alive in the last few days; with his skilled attention, Xante had taught her just how natural and beautiful love-making could be. She knew it would soon be over, knew this was to Xante, essentially a business transaction—yet it was so much more to Karin. Her body was awash with the first peace it had felt in years, a body that worked—and it was Xante who had revealed it, had brought her in closer contact with herself than she ever could have imagined.
Karin knew she was right not to tell him about her past. She didn’t want sympathy in the bedroom, didn’t want to share her pain, and she certainly didn’t want to reveal her financial predicament to the man who was waiting for her to do the very same.
And she didn’t want to say goodbye, but that was how it had to be.
He was stroking her stomach now so lightly; his touch was barely there, but she felt the ripples build inside so exquisitely. Her bikini was damp with arousal, her nipples like thimbles, so tender that just the weight of the fabric on them hurt. She didn’t want to open her eyes; all she wanted to do was feel. His other hand was lifting her hair; his breath was on her neck as still he stroked her, his mouth massaging the tender skin where her neck met her collar bone, his hand creeping inside her bikini bottom, stroking her sweet, warm place. Slowly his mouth continued to work down, kissing the top of her cleavage, and she wanted him so badly to take her breast in his mouth, except … Her head was thrashing with indecision; she was warm and pliant in his hands, but there was a frantic calculation going on in her head as to where her scar was, how much she could reveal without revealing it all. There was this ache for him to take her nipple in his mouth as his fingers slipped inside her top, his palm giving heavy attention to her breast as his mouth moved down.
It was her right breast, Karin told herself, the scar was the furthest from that one. And she squeezed her eyes closed as he moved the flimsy fabric just enough to accommodate her desires. Her hand was on high alert to halt him if he moved her blouse any further as her mind contracted to the delicious focus of his mouth nearing her tender peak. She was watching now, dizzy with desire, his fingers sliding deep within as first he licked her swollen nipple then he blew softly, doing it again and again till it begged to be kissed—which he did. She watched as those beautiful lips now worked her swollen flesh, sucking it, toying with it, teasing it till she wanted to weep in his mouth and come in his hand. Except his desirous mouth was moving again, his free hand toying with the tie of her shirt. But Karin knew she couldn’t let him, could almost see the shock that would surely end this delicious exploration.
‘Xante.’
She pushed him back, saw the blaze of confusion in his eyes.
‘Karin, I want to do these things.’
‘No.’ It was such a simple word, and for Xante a powerful one too. She could say no and mean it, didn’t have to justify or explain, because this wasn’t a relationship where you gave and took and worked on things; this was business. Karin was torn between want, need and shame, and she kissed him fiercely, straddling him as he pulled at the ties of her bikini bottoms. She sank onto him, crying out as he filled her with this contrary blizzard of feelings, because Xante demanded so much more of her than it was safe to give. He was holding her hips, angry almost as he ground into her, giving her what she wanted when he wanted to give her so much more.
His fingers were digging into her buttocks, his hips lifting off the bed, and he could see her breast free from its confines, wet where he had kissed her. He pulled her down and his mouth claimed it again, sucking hard as he pounded inside her and she could feel his confusion and anger. Karin was angry too, angry at a past that sullied the present, angry for all that she would leave behind tomorrow. She could be angry and that was okay; it felt wonderful. And he could be angry too, and still he could make her feel safe.
She could hear the moans and the tension, hear them hasten, and she wanted to watch him this one final time. Lifting her head, her breast wet and cold, she stared down at his beautiful face and black, angry eyes—she hated him, too, hated him for making her feel, for showing her just how good it could be. She was crying as she came, crying, because it was such a relief to feel, such a relief to go to dangerous places and have Xante beside her, inside her, to watch him come. She saw the pained look of pure pleasure on his face as still she came, weeping in sweet relief when finally it was over, because it hurt to give so much to this man, and it was actually a relief that soon it would end.
Afterwards, as he lay beside her, Xante had no idea what had happened. He tried to fathom what had taken place. Because there was sex, and there was sex, but with Karin it was always different. If there was a line, then somehow they had not just crossed it but had taken a leap to the other side, and there was no going back.
‘Karin.’ He actually had to clear his throat to drag some power back into his lungs. ‘Why won’t you …?’
‘Leave it, Xante.’ In one movement, she climbed off the bed.
‘You don’t even know what I was going to say.’
‘I don’t need to.’
‘When we make love …’
‘We have sex, Xante,’ Karin corrected. ‘That was the deal, remember? Sex for the rose, and I think I’ve kept up my end of the arrangement.’
‘Karin!’ He called her back as she headed for the bathroom. ‘What is it you are hiding?’
‘That’s none of your business, Xante.’ She was so close to telling him it actually scared her. She needed to get back to London, back to reality, so she could remind herself again why she couldn’t open up to him.
‘What if I want it to be my business?’
‘I’m a thief, Xante. No!’ She shouted the word when he opened his mouth to interrupt her. ‘Sex—that was what we agreed. My feelings aren’t up for sale.’
‘You’re no whore.’ He was off the bed now, catching her wrist as she turned for the bathroom. ‘That had nothing to do with the rose.’
She took back her wrist. ‘I’m not some tourist, kamaki boy; you don’t have to make me fall in love with you to get what you want from me. You don’t have to bleat out promises you have no intention of keeping. We had a deal. Now, if you’re not satisfied with the service, then I’ll give you a quick one on the plane as an added bonus. But apart from that I think we’re done.’
A filthy mouth didn’t suit her but then, Xante reminded himself as she slammed into the bathroom, the Karin he loved didn’t actually exist.
Loved.
He almost spat as the word came to mind.
&nbs
p; The woman he wanted was just an illusion.
As they headed out to meet the driver, Xante handed her a set of keys and the safety-deposit box address. They were both bristling with rancour, and the holiday was clearly over.
‘I won’t take you up on your charming offer,’ Xante said as he helped her into the car. ‘I don’t have to pay for sex.’
Even if it hurt, even if this was agony, surely it was better to keep him out rather than let him in? Taking the keys, she slipped them in to her purse and made it exceptionally clear that they were over.
‘You just did.’
He didn’t ring her, and neither had Karin expected him to after their bitter parting.
He didn’t text and neither did he email, and she knew that because she checked both her mobile and computer regularly.
There were no flowers to follow. Apart from a new set of keys on her key ring, and a heavy silver bangle which she never took off, there was no proof that anything had actually happened between them.
But there were changes.
No matter the circumstances of their arrangement, or the fact that it had never been his intention, Xante had empowered her. That small reprieve from her life, that small glimpse of being treated well and cared for, had made Karin realise that the unbearable was actually impossible.
That ten more months might just as well be ten more years; she couldn’t, wouldn’t, live like this for a moment longer.
Sitting at work, entering the late returns into the computer, Karin was trying and failing not to think about the lunchtime appointment with her lawyer.
Her lawyer.
Not an old friend of her father, or a contact he had once fostered.
Just a reputable name from the phone book, and hopefully a step in the right direction.
‘We have a problem.’
She didn’t look up, just blinked as her two worlds collided. Xante’s rich voice, too loud in the library, his scent replacing the musky book-smell. The beautiful hand that had touched her so intimately came into view as he handed her a thick white envelope.