by Lucy Gordon;Sarah Morgan;Robyn Donald;Lucy Monroe;Lee Wilkinson;Kate Walker
‘I’m not everyone else.’ He put the papers down in front of him and fastened his seat belt. ‘I can’t run a global business if I’m restricted by the schedule of a commercial airline.’
‘So you have your own plane.’
‘I have my own fleet of planes,’ he corrected her gently. ‘Five at the last count, so that all the members of my senior team are able to be mobile and still work while travelling. It makes commercial sense.’ He reached out, took a glass of champagne from the flight attendant and handed it to her.
‘I don’t drink.’
‘Then start,’ he advised in a silky tone, placing the glass down on the table in front of her. ‘It will help you relax and that would be a benefit for both of us. I find you incredibly uptight and tense, which does nothing for my stress levels.’
Something in the look in his slumberous dark eyes made her feel even more uneasy and she couldn’t help but remember the conversation they’d had about his stress levels. He’d said that he needed sex to relieve the tension.
She looked away, so tense that she couldn’t ever imagine being relaxed again. It was just him, she thought, sneaking a look at his handsome face as he switched from English to Greek to talk to the stewardess. He made her nervous. Looking at the stack of papers demanding his attention, she remembered his comment about needing an antidote to stress and gave a little shiver. He hadn’t been serious about that, she told herself quickly. He just liked to make her feel as uncomfortable and embarrassed as possible.
But, all the same, she reached for the champagne and took a small sip, deciding that she needed the courage. She still couldn’t quite believe that she was on her way to Greece but one glance out of the window directly opposite confirmed that they were high above the clouds.
Nikos rose to his feet to take the conference call and she was left to her own devices, listening with just one ear as the conversation conducted in rapid Greek turned from emerging markets to the rise in oil prices.
Being fluent in his language brought her no closer to understanding what he did, she thought wryly as she settled back in the sofa and picked up a magazine from the table by her elbow. She knew from Tiffany that he owned hotels and a shipping company but all the newspaper articles she’d read on him said that his genius lay in finance.
Resigned to the fact that his goals and interests were entirely foreign to her and were likely to remain that way, Angie scanned the magazine, ignoring an article on the latest fashion in beachwear in favour of a piece on the ancient site of Knossos on the island of Crete.
It was only when the plane eventually landed, more than four hours after they’d taken off from London, that she realised she hadn’t even asked where in Greece they were going. After he’d finished his conference call, Nikos had settled himself on the sofa opposite and proceeded to work his way through an enormous pile of papers, occasionally signing his name, occasionally making notes in the margin.
‘Are we on your island?’
Closing his briefcase and releasing his seat belt, Nikos rose in a fluid movement. ‘The island doesn’t have a runway big enough for a 747. We are on the island of Crete.’
She stared at him. ‘You have a house on Crete?’
‘A villa. When I’m not in New York or Tokyo, I commute between here and Athens during the week. I use the island at weekends and when I have a particular desire for privacy. Don’t look so worried.’ He handed the papers to the flight attendant, who took them and melted into the background. ‘Crete is full of ancient sites and bits of broken pottery. You should feel right at home, Dr Kyriacou. If you develop withdrawal symptoms from the Museum, you can always go and dig in my garden.’
Ignoring the faint sarcasm in his voice, she followed him out of the aircraft, telling herself that maybe things weren’t going to be so bad after all. Four hours closeted in an aeroplane with him had been enough to show her that he was a complete workaholic. He clearly couldn’t stand the sight of her, which meant that she was going to be pretty much left to her own devices and what better place to be left alone than Crete, with its amazing history?
All she had to do was stay out of his way and everything would be fine.
They drove from the airport along the coast just as the sun started to set. Fingers of fire spread across the sea and in the distance mountains loomed, dark and mysterious. By the time the driver paused outside a set of large electric gates it was almost dark.
Nikos was talking into his phone again and Angie watched while the gates swung open and the car moved slowly up a long curving driveway illuminated by delicate lights. Glimpsing orange trees laden with fruit, she inched further forwards in her seat, enchanted. She wanted to get out of the car and explore but the drive seemed to go on for ever. Obviously Nikos Kyriacou valued his privacy, she thought dryly and was just wondering whether they were ever going to arrive when they took a final curve in the long driveway and pulled up outside the villa.
Feeling daunted, she followed him up the steps to the entrance. Inside, she paused in the hallway, her eyes immediately drawn to a pot, displayed on a simply designed table.
‘Oh, my goodness—’ As if in a trance, she stepped closer, lifted a hand as if to touch and then stopped herself. She turned to look at him, disbelief in her eyes. ‘Is it—?’
‘You tell me,’ he drawled, stepping to one side as his staff hurried past him with luggage. ‘You’re the archaeologist.’
‘It’s early Minoan,’ she breathed, turning her head again and running her eyes over the pot. ‘An amphora—a storage jar. It’s a fabulous piece.’ She couldn’t hide her surprise. ‘I had no idea you were interested in archaeology. You never—’
‘We haven’t exactly had time to discuss our hobbies, have we?’ The sardonic lift of his dark brow indicated exactly what he thought of her line in conversation. ‘I’m Greek. All Greeks are interested in their heritage.’
But not all Greeks could afford artefacts of this rarity, she thought to herself. ‘Do you have anything else?’
‘You want me to show you my etchings?’
She made an impatient sound and turned away, flustered. ‘It’s impossible to conduct a conversation with you.’
‘Good, because I’ve done nothing but talk all day and I need a rest from it. Are you hungry or do you want to go straight to bed?’
‘Bed sounds good,’ she muttered immediately, grateful that he’d given her the option of just retiring for the night. She was exhausted by the events of the day. Exhausted by him. Bed would provide a welcome sanctuary from his ice cold scrutiny and his sarcastic line in communication.
He took her hand in his and led her up the curving staircase towards the first floor. ‘All the bedrooms have balconies overlooking the sea.’ He flung open the first door and she gave a gasp of delight.
The heavy silk cover draped over the four-poster bed was scattered with pink rose petals, some of which had floated down on to the exquisite rug which covered the tiled floor. A wall of glass opened on to the balcony and she could hear the gentle sounds of the sea. ‘It’s stunning.’
He pushed the door shut with the palm of his hand, a frown on his handsome face as he noticed the bed. ‘I’m afraid my staff occasionally get a little carried away.’
‘I like it,’ she said hastily, glancing towards the door. ‘I’ll be fine now, thanks. You don’t have to stay.’
‘Unfortunately, I do.’ He lifted a hand and released the knot of his tie. ‘I had a very stressful working day.’
She stared at him, her heart stumbling in her chest. ‘You’re not sleeping here.’
‘That’s right. I’m not. I’m far too wound up to sleep.’ He strolled towards the window and dropped his tie over the back of the chair. Then he shrugged out of his jacket and slowly undid the buttons of his shirt while she watched, frozen to the spot. Surely he wasn’t seriously intending to—
‘I need a bath,’ she said quickly, ‘so don’t wait around for me. You just go and do whatever it is you need to
do to relax. Get changed and enjoy a glass of ouzo, take a dip in your pool—’
‘I’ve already told you my favourite method of relaxation.’ The shirt joined the tie and the jacket over the back of the chair and she quickly looked away, but not before she’d caught a graphic glimpse of bronzed, muscular chest covered in curling black hairs. ‘But by all means freshen up. The bathroom is the door to your right.’
Grateful to have been offered an escape, she shot through it quickly and bolted it firmly behind her. He didn’t mean it, she told herself firmly, trying to breathe slowly and calm her pounding heart. He was just joking about his favourite method of relaxation.
He wasn’t interested in her. He’d made his opinion on that subject quite clear and that was fine because she didn’t want his interest.
If necessary she’d stay in the bathroom until he’d had time to fall asleep.
Feeling in need of relaxation herself, she walked across the room and stared at the buttons on the wall, trying to work out how to run water into the enormous sunken bath. Still trying to work it out, she added some designer bath foam from the wide selection left in a pot and then experimented nervously with a few different knobs until a powerful jet of water shot out of the taps, filling the tub in seconds.
Even knowing that the locked door was between them, Angie still hesitated before pulling her dress over her head and slipping out of her underwear.
He was just trying to shock her, she thought to herself as she slid under the scented foam. Trying to frighten and intimidate her. He was angry because she had the upper hand. She’d forced him to be celibate—to think about his relationships.
Enjoying the feel of warm water and the delicious scent of the bath foam, she closed her eyes and started to feel a little better. The feeling lasted until she heard the distinct sound of a door opening.
Her eyes flew open and widened in shocked disbelief as Nikos strolled towards her dressed only in a pair of black silk boxer shorts. His shoulders were broad and bare, his legs long and well muscled and he was the epitome of prime manhood.
‘I locked the door.’ Her voice was a horrified squeak and he gave a careless shrug.
‘There are two doors, agape mou. Evidently you didn’t lock both of them.’
Chapter Seven
‘GET out.’ Even though the bubbles covered her completely, she slid deeper under the water, her voice an outraged squeak. ‘I want privacy.’
‘You should have thought of that before you proposed marriage and imposed no end of restrictions on my lifestyle.’ Without a flicker of hesitation or modesty, he slid his boxer shorts off and joined her in the bath.
Shocked by such a blatant display of manhood, her immediate instinct was to shoot out of the water but that would have meant parading naked in front of him and she didn’t have sufficient confidence in her body.
Unlike him.
He obviously had no qualms whatsoever about stripping naked in front of her. He hadn’t even turned sideways or attempted to cover his modesty with a towel. He was a vision of bronzed, muscular perfection—a tough, athletic male whose claim that he needed sex was supported by the unmistakable power of his extremely large erection.
Deciding that parading naked was less daunting than remaining in the bath with him, she eyed the pile of soft fluffy towels but, before she could make a dash for it, she felt his hand clamp around her wrist.
‘You can’t—’
‘Yes, I can.’ Without further argument, he pulled her across his lap. She squirmed and tried to stand up but the bubbles had made the water slippery and anyway he was much, much stronger than her. She wriggled again but then felt the hard thrust of his erection against her thigh and froze. Her eyes met his and saw humour there, along with an emotion far more primal and basic.
‘Sorry, but I did warn you,’ he murmured softly as he slid an arm round her waist and brought his mouth down on hers.
The touch of his lips sent a bolt of fire through her pelvis and she gave a gasp of shock which turned to a moan of disbelief as his tongue slid between her parted lips and he kissed her with a degree of erotic expertise that she’d never before encountered.
She felt the rough scrape of male stubble against her face, felt the hardness of his thighs under hers and then her eyes drifted shut and she was transported into a different word, a sensual world where thoughts no longer mattered. Where feelings were the only thing that counted.
The warm scented water lapped around her, his mouth moved seductively over hers and then she felt the strength and pressure of his hand at her waist, urging her closer. Her hand rested on his chest and she felt the steady beat of his heart under her fingers as she dizzily tried to remember why this situation didn’t feel entirely right.
But, before she could make an attempt at rational thought, his fingers brushed across her nipple and she gave a cry of shock. Excitement stabbed hard through her body and she squirmed against his hard thighs, trying to ease the sudden nagging ache deep inside her.
Without lifting his mouth from hers, he dragged his fingers over her nipple again, this time repeating the caress until she could stand it no longer and dragged her lips from his so that she could gasp in some much needed air.
She heard him mutter something in Greek, something that she didn’t understand, and then he buried his face in her neck and she threw back her head with a low moan as she felt the hot brand of his mouth burning her bare skin. Her whole body was on fire, shivering and burning with need, and she felt the leisurely slide of his hand from waist to hip, felt him move her slightly and then felt the confident stroke of his strong fingers close to the heart of her femininity.
She gave a half-hearted wriggle in an attempt to protect herself but she was weakened and dizzy and he simply parted her thighs with a gentle but decisive movement of his hands and then she felt the intimate probe of his touch as he slid a finger deep inside her.
It felt so deliciously good that she gasped in shock, her vision blurred as she clutched at the hard muscle of his shoulder, her whole body trembling and tense, everything focused on the clever stroke of his fingers. Deep down she knew she ought to resist but she had no idea how to stop him, had no idea how to subdue the wicked sensations that threatened to consume her body.
Her breathing shallow, her fingers dug into his arm. Then his mouth found hers again and his tongue traced her lips in an exploration so shockingly sexual that the throb in her pelvis intensified to almost intolerable levels.
Lost in the devastation of his kiss, she was dimly aware of the skilled, knowing movement of his fingers but she couldn’t work out what he was doing because his touch seemed to be everywhere and it felt impossibly, maddeningly good. Her body felt different, everything felt different, and she moaned against his mouth and squirmed against his hand, desperate for something, but she didn’t know exactly what. But he seemed to know exactly what she needed because he continued his relentless assault on her senses until she felt her body suddenly explode in a shower of sensation and felt herself tighten around his seeking fingers.
Shaken and weak from the experience, she dragged her mouth away from his and buried her face in his shoulder, far too embarrassed to look at him. Now that some of the unbelievable tension had eased, she felt incredibly shy but he didn’t give her a chance to hide because he rose to his feet with her still in his arms, yanked a warm towel from the pile and strode through to the bedroom.
‘Nikos—’ her voice was strangled and shaking with embarrassment ‘—I’m dripping on the carpet. I’m naked—please, just let me—’
‘I don’t care about the carpet and you don’t need to tell me that you’re naked,’ he drawled softly, dropping the towel on to the centre of the bed and lowering her on top of it. ‘I can feel that you’re naked. I’ve had you rubbing against me for the best part of an hour.’
An hour? She stared up at him in disbelief. Had it really been that long?
The knowledge that so much time had passed and she hadn’t ev
en noticed left her even more embarrassed. But nothing was more embarrassing than lying naked with him poised above her, his gaze roaming freely over her body.
She tried to cover herself but he caught her arms and gave a faint smile.
‘A bit late for modesty,’ he said huskily, ‘since I’m already intimately acquainted with your body.’
Riddled with insecurities about herself, she tried to roll away from him but he shifted in a smooth movement and came down on top of her and she gasped.
‘Why are you doing this? You know I’m not your sort of woman—’
‘At this precise moment you’re exactly my sort of woman,’ he assured her in heavily accented tones as he lowered his mouth to within a breath of hers. ‘You’re damp, naked and still a bit weak after your first orgasm. Speaking as a man, it doesn’t get much better than this.’
Shock mingled with another far more dangerous emotion as she felt the bold thrust of his arousal against her thigh. She tried to use the last of her logic before it deserted her. ‘I’m overweight and I don’t know anything about sex.’
‘I know enough for both of us,’ he assured her arrogantly, his hand sliding slowly down the length of her body as if to prove his point. ‘And you’re not overweight. You have fabulous breasts. You feel soft and womanly and very, very tempting, agape mou.’
His voice alone was a seduction and she forgot that no man had ever spoken to her in such a way and found herself closing her eyes as the same delicious heat started to spread through her lower body. She didn’t want this, but she couldn’t resist.
‘Open your eyes.’ His soft command cut through the haze in her brain and she did as he ordered and then wished she hadn’t because there was something in his dangerous dark gaze that made her shiver. He was the ultimate male animal, king of the beasts surveying his chosen mate.
And he’d chosen to seduce her.
‘This time I want to watch your expression.’ His eyes held hers and then he rolled away from her body and lay on his side, his eyes drifting slowly down every quivering inch of her body. ‘I can’t believe you cover such an amazing body under those awful clothes.’