by Cat Porter
“Grim?”
“Oh yes. Then your dark sense of hum—”
I kissed her. She stiffened, pushed at me, a grunt rising in her throat. I tossed my wine glass into the sea, grabbed hers from her hand and threw it overboard.
My fingers gripped the sides of her face tightly. “Kiss. Me.”
“Why?” she breathed against my lips.
“You liked my kisses last night, you begged for them. You—”
Her tongue lashed at my lips, breasts smashing into my chest, warm hands sliding around my neck.
Hell yes.
I took what she offered and took more. Wine, honey, heat, sea salt. Her tongue slid against mine, fueling my desire for her. I wrapped my hands around her bare waist, pressing into her sleek flesh, pulling her close against me.
The scream of an engine grew loud. Another roar and grind swerved past. I tore my lips from hers and shoved her behind me.
“Turo?” her voice breathless, her fingernails dug into my sides.
A jet ski roared past and another and another swiped through the dark blue water even closer to the Allegra. Two men on each jet ski, the ones seated in the rear with cameras in their hands focused on us.
“Sto thiálo!” Adriana spit out.
Pulling her back from the railing and into the dining room, I wrapped my arms around her and held her. “They were just taking pictures. It’s okay,” I murmured, brushing my lips against her temple.
She shivered. I held her tighter, rubbing her back, but her shivering wouldn’t stop.
“Is it always like this?” I asked.
“Always.”
17
Adriana
Turo ushered me inside the boat, his arm around me.
“You okay?” He searched my face.
“Fine.” I pushed his hands away, and he released me. “I’m fine.”
His jaw tightened even more. “Adri.”
I brushed my hair behind my ears. “I’m going to take a shower and—”
“Get some rest.” He glanced at his watch. “We have about three hours before we need to leave for the club.”
“Right.” I headed down the corridor toward my cabin, a hand trailing the wall.
“Adriana.”
His heavy voice stopped me in my tracks, and I turned back toward him. Turo’s brow was pulled together forming a stiff ridge over his eyes. “I’m sorry—I should have been more careful.”
“It’s not your fault, Turo. It’s the way things are.”
The way things had always been.
I went to my cabin and curled up on the bed. I didn’t want another private moment stolen from me. I gave them enough, all the time, but it didn’t matter, did it? Now they’d try to find out who Turo was and whip up some steamy “Adriana and her sexy bodyguard” story.
Something to look forward to.
I rolled over onto my back and replayed the memory of Turo’s firm grip on my flesh—I could still feel it. His throwing our wine glasses into the sea, kissing me, demanding from me. His biting looks, his deep kisses. I curled up on the bed. I hadn’t given myself over to it in a very long time. Giving myself over to Turo wouldn’t be difficult. From the moment I met him I could feel the earth under me giving way. A wild landslide. A landslide I was powerless to stop.
His kiss had dared me to kiss him back, a kiss that said he wanted to consume me, conquer me. And a piece of me wanted to be his captive. Last night at the club, I’d given in to the overwhelming urge to experience that dare blazing in his eyes. For once, I’d taken the chance and leapt. This was no ordinary attraction. A kind of high, a jolt, a shock that pulled my insides tight with a searing heat the moment he’d gripped me just now, his taste becoming mine.
My fingers went to my lips. I could still feel his possessive ferocity. ‘Kiss’ was such a sweet, charming, even simple word, but Turo’s version was anything but. His kiss was a portal to a shrouded mystery that called to something brutal, something volatile inside me, inside both of us. This was no kiss performance to impress or dazzle me, win me over like it had been with so many others. There was a connection, I’d felt it shudder through me. I saw it in his eyes, a moment of surprise then it had darkened.
I slid a hand over a breast and stroked, kneaded. What would his hand on my body feel like? I closed my eyes and saw his face, felt the heavy heat of those eyes on me, his touch. It had been so long, so long since…
My nipples hardened, my skin heated. I ached. That loneliness coiled inside me.
My hand traveled down my middle to between my legs. Bloody hell. His burning mouth on mine had lit a fire in me only moments ago. A fire that still blazed, and I didn’t want to let it die. My breathing deepened as my fingers slid under the waistband of my bikini bottom.
Yes, there. Like that. If he touched me here, would he be workmanlike or sensual and possessive? I was positive it was the latter; he would listen to my body, he would answer its call. My fingers moved faster. Was he hard right now? Was he relieving himself of that arousal in the shower at this very moment, water streaming over the muscles of his body?
His deep voice murmured in my ear, his eyes seared over me. His fingers dragged over my skin, his mouth. I stroked harder, a cry with his name on it escaped my lips, and I buried my face in the pillow.
Taking a deep breath, I knocked on Turo’s cabin door.
I tugged on the end of the short skirt of my dress as I shifted my weight on my damned heels. Why was I so nervous? Was it the party? Was it because I had fingered myself to an almost orgasm fantasizing about him less than two hours ago? Something I hadn’t done in forever?
I hadn’t felt this crazy combination of feelings and anticipation in a long time. No, not like this. This was exhilarating, a high.
I like him. A lot.
And I was fascinated by him too. Tonight we would be spending the evening together and I looked forward to it. Close together. With hundreds of other people, but still, close together.
“Come in.”
My stomach dipped at the sound of his strong voice. The strong, sure voice that belonged to the strong, sure man who saved me from bullets, paparazzi, but he hadn’t saved me from his tongue.
I pushed open the door. “Turo?”
He pivoted, and my breath caught in my chest. A towel was wrapped around his waist. Low, low on his waist. His skin shimmered with a sheen of water. He’d just gotten out of the shower. His shoulders, arms, chest were sculpted in hard lines and firm planes, a dusting of hair in all the right places. There was nothing overdone, trying too hard, imposing to impress; he was perfect. He took care of himself, and that was incredibly sexy.
Heat flooded my chest, swarming through my insides. “Oh, pardon, I—”
His eyes glittered in the beams of sunlight coming in through the small window of the cabin. He enjoyed my mental stutter as my eyes swallowed up his fine assets.
“No pardons necessary.”
“They never are with you, I think.” I grinned, my shoulders relaxing.
“Rarely.” He unfastened the towel, tossing it on the bed in one quick move.
Amán.
I stilled, my eyes bolting to his. Two could play this game. My intense curiosity to see his—I was very certain—generous endowment gnawed at me. I couldn’t help but notice it last night when he’d pressed against me during the first kiss. And earlier on the deck. My eyes remained locked on his.
He pulled on a pair of black boxer briefs that had been laying on the bed. He had all the time in the world. He stalked over to the closet, and my eyes fell on his sculpted rear. Those long, baggy American swim trunks had hidden a very fine bum. Muscular and round. The long muscles of his broad back moved as he pulled out a shirt and a dark suit from the closet.
“Wait. You’re still wet,” I said.
He stopped in his tracks as if I’d told him to freeze. I took the shirt and suit from his hands and laid them carefully on the tightly made bed. Picking up his damp towel, I patted the firm
flesh of his back with it, rubbing it down his arms and over his shoulders under his heavy gaze. His breathing audibly quickened.
“Do you need anything…pressed?” I breathed in his ear, keeping my tone matter of fact as I continued to rub over his chest. “That can be taken care of.”
“Could it?” he said, his voice husky.
“Oh, yes.”
He grabbed the towel from me. “Please.”
I went over to the side of his bed, picked up the telephone, and called the housekeeper, asking her to send someone to pick up Turo’s clothes for a quick press. Turo watched me as he brushed a hand down his mouth.
I hung up the phone. “On their way.”
Smirking, he tugged on the plush white Allegra bathrobe from the closet. He left the bloody robe open, and my gaze fell to his chest, down his firm, rippled muscles, chiseled one by one. My mouth dried, and a low noise growled in his throat, making my gaze return to his. He moved toward me. The gentleman beast.
A loud knock at the door and my body jerked at the sound. I opened it. The steward had arrived.
“Signorina?”
I gestured absently at the bed. The steward scooped up Turo’s clothes and left, charging down the hallway.
Alone again.
His eyes still on me, Turo drank from a small bottle of water and wiped at his mouth. “You look beautiful,” he said. “You always do, but you in that dress—” His eyes flicked downward and back up over me. He sucked in air as he twisted the cap back on the water bottle a bit too forcibly, and it cracked. “—spectacular.” The word came out hushed but incisively articulated, and my flesh heated. I was on a stage in a vast, dark theatre, a spotlight shown over me. Turo’s spotlight. All for him.
I cleared my throat. “Thank you. My cousin Silia is a fashion designer. This is from her new spring/summer couture collection.”
“Turn around.” He remained still, his voice coming out low and stern, cutting off my speech, my train of thought, my heartbeat.
I turned around, slowly, my heart pounding wildly under his fierce attention. Silia’s creation was a very fine silvery chain mail draped over a gauzy, white sheath, dipping low down my front, just covering my breasts. The dress was short, the bottom portion, just past my hips, was a web of embroidered silver flowers embellished with Swarovski crystals. My high-heeled, silvery beige sandals with the crossed straps on my feet gave me extra height. I’d sprayed a perfumed oil on my arms, legs, and chest for a bit of sheen and had done my makeup quite simply except for smokey eyeliner and deep red glossy lips. Large diamond stud earrings and an Alessio-designed skull ring flecked with tiny diamonds were my only accessories.
“Spectacular,” he murmured, his eyes finally resting on my legs. His shoulders moved under the thick bathrobe. “So, tell me what to expect at this party.”
“This beach club just opened last summer and they do very well as a restaurant bar and nighttime club attracting an international crowd that is willing and eager to pay. They started as a small restaurant but they’ve expanded and have lots of plans to keep on doing so. Think posh St. Tropez meets Greek Island. Their prices certainly reflect that. They also put on several concerts with some big name Greek singers. Tonight, we start with a fashion show with a number of models, all very theatrical. After that, it will be a nightclub experience. Alessio has a good friend from Norway who’s a famous DJ here in Europe coming to play. He’s been a big draw.”
Turo’s gaze darted out the cabin window. “There are more and more yachts out here since lunch, aren’t there?”
I followed his gaze outside. “Hmm. We’ve sold out.”
“Big crowd then?”
“Big crowd.”
“Are you up for that?”
“I have to be.” I sucked in a breath and pushed my lips into a smile.
“It’ll be crazy, but you’ll be fine. I won’t leave your side.”
His words, the intensity of his eyes made my pulse race. “Okay.”
He came closer. He didn’t touch me, but the air between us was charged. I shifted my weight to combat the sudden weakness in my knees, a quiver rolling through my tummy.
“Unless you want me to keep my distance,” he said.
“No, I want you to stay with me,” I breathed, my heart beating faster and faster.
“And if you need to get out of there, we get out,” he said. “I know you’re used to being in the spotlight, have done it hundreds of times before—”
“I have.”
“But after the shooting, tonight may be different.”
“Are you trying to talk me out of going?”
“No.” He shook his head slightly. “I only want you to be aware. It’s important you don’t push yourself too far. If you get uncomfortable in any way, you let me know. We leave or we just lay low in a quiet corner of the club. Whatever you need.”
Somehow I knew that if I got the least bit uncomfortable, he’d notice. I wouldn’t have to tell him.
“Okay.”
“Tonight may be important to Alessio, but it’s your night too,” he continued.
My heart thudded in my chest at his words, at the fresh, clean scent of his skin. He’d used the green tea and mint shower gel, just like I had, but now that fragrance mingled with his, became his, and made my insides curl tightly.
He took my hand and stroked my fingers. “You’ve worked hard. You deserve to enjoy this party and see it be a huge success.” His tenderness wrapped around my anxiety and dread like a velvet cloak. Easing them in softness and warmth, loosening their grip on me. My vision got blurry and I blinked the unshed tears away.
“Thank you,” I said. “That means a lot to me.”
He brought my hand to his lips. The featherlight brush of his mouth set off a rage of sparks on my skin.
“Well, Lovely, you’re ready to conquer the world on looks alone.” His fingers lazed a trail across my collarbone and those sparks exploded again.
That crooked grin of his was etched across his lips, but something softer flickered over his face for just a moment. “You’re very good at conquering, baby.”
18
Adriana
“There you are, beautiful!”
Kaspar lifted me in his arms, brushing his lips against mine. I pulled back from his embrace. “Good to see you.”
He placed me back down gently onto his narrow stage platform which had been set up over the shoreline of the beach club. Just beyond the stage, the sea sparkled with the lights from all the boats and yachts crowding the cove before us.
“Gorgeous as ever.” His infectious grin widened.
Kaspar wasn’t the most handsome man, but his outgoing personality and reckless enthusiasm for life were so charismatic and mesmerizing that he left you breathless; you wanted to be a part of his energy. We always flirted with each other, although he flirted with everyone. We’d snogged after a concert of his in Montenegro last summer, but that had been it. And that had been enough.
His bright blue eyes teased me as he raked a hand through that perpetually messy blond beach hair of his. “You never showed up in Abu Dhabi last September like you promised, sweetheart. You broke my heart.”
Dip a toe in, use the Alessio card, run the other way. That always worked for me, but then I’d met Turo. I’d dipped my customary toe in, but now, oh now, I craved a full bath.
“I know, Kaspar. I’m sorry,” I said. “Bad timing, I couldn’t make it happen. But I’m so glad you’re here. Did the sound check go okay? You have everything you need?”
“Yah, it’s good. All good.” For the third time he shot a quick look at Turo who stood to my side, but he quickly re-focused his attention on me. I could feel the barbed prickle of heat that was Turo’s glare. His annoyance was a force of nature.
Having security wasn’t unusual, and security guards were everywhere here. Huge, tall, ruggedly attractive men every five feet kept a close eye on everyone and everything. Turo may not have been large and brawny like all these superhero
types, but he was fit and sharply handsome, and he was my very own security superhero.
His dark tapered suit fit him perfectly, and every time our eyes met, my pulse raced and I found myself staring at him a bit longer than I should. And he, cocky devil that he was, always returned my looks with loaded ones of his own—part respectful appreciation, part protectiveness, part outright lust. That heady perfume still lingered in the air between us from the moment he’d taken my hand and guided me onto the launch earlier.
“You need a drink, love,” Kaspar said, gesturing at the generous shots of vodka being served with ice cubes that had colorful flowers frozen inside. Alessio had partnered with a trendy new Polish vodka company for tonight’s party. All organic ingredients and interesting flavors. Add the sculpted hand-painted glass bottle encrusted with Swarovski crystals and that was supposed to make it worth one thousand euros a bottle.
“I will, very soon. Too much to do just yet.” I winked at him.
If I had a drink now, it would be too easy to keep drinking, and I’d convince myself I was more at ease than I actually was. I was working tonight. Tonight I had responsibilities and I would see them through.
The screaming tension that had tightened my every muscle to the point of a full-on, dizzying, chest-crushing, cold sweat panic on the launch coming over had evaporated bit by bit under his shadow, and I felt much more comfortable than I’d expected to be. From the moment Turo and I arrived at the club, I pushed back my panic and focused on Alessio’s panic, the models’ last minute snafus, the restaurant manager’s thousand questions, the lighting designer’s issues, Theo, the PR man’s checklist. One by one, I answered questions, made decisions, insisted on changes, gave lots of hugs brimming with enthusiasm.
As the sun set and the club filled with people, my anxiety bit at the edges of my jagged pulse like a desperate wild dog wanting to get his way. But Turo’s presence at my side, at my back, him watching me insistently with those bright hazel eyes of his made the few embers of confidence inside me blaze to life again and the dog receded. Turo was a consummate professional, a constant presence, unobtrusive, but always there, always within my reach. And that uneasy panic that had become so familiar had been slowly dissolving.