The Greek Boss's Demand (8 page)

It was impossible not to respond, not to match his passion with her own pent-up desire. He wasn't marrying Sofia! Her heart sang with the knowledge, though there was no time to analyse why. Not with Nick's taste in her mouth, his breath merged with hers and his touch set her body alight.

Her hand found a gap between shirt and jeans and her fingers immediately took advantage, seeking the skin beneath. A deep sound issued from his throat as she found the hot flesh beneath and found what she was looking for—skin-to-skin contact. She forced the shirt higher, until both her hands could roam his back, feeling the tight play of muscles as his arms moved over her.

‘Today we will make love.' His voice was a husky
whisper against her ear, so that she felt it more as vibration than as sound.

She wasn't about to argue. His simple statement of fact was beyond argument. They both knew it. This time they would make love. A small tremor, filled with expectation and promise, moved through her.

His head pulled back a fraction from hers. His eyes were dark and smoky with desire. Desire for her. She saw the eyes of the young man on Crete all those years ago and breath caught in her throat. The eyes he'd turned on her back then were hers again.

And she knew in that instant that she still loved him. Totally, utterly, completely. She loved him and she'd never stopped loving him through all the years. It wasn't just her body that was Nick's. Her heart belonged to him too.

‘Your boy—when is he due home?'

She swallowed, reluctant to break the mood but knowing that this secret between them had to be revealed. ‘Nick, I have to tell you something. I—'

‘When will he be home?'

‘Tomorrow—he's gone camping overnight.'

She caught the gleam in his eye, the smile that rocked the corners of his mouth. He gently shook his head and shooshed her with a finger to her lips. ‘We've both said too many words.' In one easy movement he lifted and swung her into his arms. ‘Tell me tomorrow. Now it is time we made love.'

He kissed her again, and she kissed him back,
grateful that now nothing was going to stop their inevitable, inescapable date with destiny.

Today they would make love.

And tomorrow she would tell him about his son.

Still kissing her, he headed down the narrow side hallway. The kitchen waited at the end of the hall and two doors led off to the left in between. He paused at the first door and she shook her head under his lips. He continued to the next.

She pushed it open with her foot and he carried her inside the high-ceilinged room, decorated in Victorian shades and dominated by an old iron-framed double bed. She shuddered against him as she thought of the bed, of Nick with her, and he squeezed her tightly, as if sensing her nervousness.

Then he eased her down gently, so gently, as if she might break, in the centre of the bed and gazed deeply into her eyes, into her soul. ‘I want to see you naked,' he said. ‘I want to see your skin. But first…' He reached behind her head to prise open and slip out the clip holding her hair in its tight, twisted knot. With his other hand he shook the hair free, until it spilled around her shoulders in a wave of blonde foam.

He made a rough sound of approval, deep in his throat, held her face in his two hands and kissed her gently on the lips. ‘And now to feel your skin.' He sat alongside her on the bed and eased her light knitted top over her head. He threw it to one side and stopped, riveted, his eyes hotly on her.

She sat there, his intense dark gaze upon her, recognising the appreciation and sheer desire therein. As if spellbound, he reached out a hand and touched her skin. Her breath tracked in sharply and he sighed as her chest swelled in response. Lightly his finger traced the line of her champagne lace bra, burning her skin as his fingers followed the strap down from her shoulders, circling each breast so gently she thought she would explode. He took his hand away and his knuckles brushed one nipple—instinctively her back arched in response and in a second both hands were gone. She knew just where a second later when she felt her bra relax, its rear clip manipulated open. A moment later her breasts felt the freedom of the air as he swept all trace of the bra away.

His following swift intake of air empowered her. He wanted her. Exposed to his appreciative gaze, her nipples hardened in the firm, goosebumped skin of her breasts. As much as she wanted his eyes to drink her in, her breasts craved the touch of his hand, his mouth.

She took one of his hands and held it against her. He smiled, squeezing his fingers around her flesh and following likewise with the other hand. He shifted his grip so that one hand supported her behind her back while he kissed her and eased her down flat on the bed. His kiss deepened, his hands once again exploring her breasts. It wasn't enough. Just as he wanted to look at her skin, to feel her skin, she needed that
contact too. As his lips traced down the line of her neck she scrabbled with the buttons on his shirt.

In a final flurry the sides of his shirt flew apart and she pulled him down on her so that her skin met his. Her senses sizzled as their warm flesh meshed and merged. Everywhere they touched felt like paradise, and a whole lot of reason to go on. When he suddenly pushed her away she felt cold, a sense of abandonment. But in a second he'd discarded the shirt and his mouth was back, seeking out the flesh of her breast, taking her nipple in his mouth, rolling its tight bud around with his tongue and sucking with such gentle, even pressure that she felt the layers of her old life being stripped away, leaving only that which Nick had tasted before.

He caressed each nipple in turn, the warmth of his mouth rendering them harder and more insistent, sending shards of sensation down to the base of her deepest need.

And while his tongue went to work her own hands explored his body, stroking and massaging his shoulders, his ribs, his stomach—wherever they could reach.

She felt each sculpted dip between his ribs, felt the play of muscle under skin and the touch of his satiny olive skin. And still it wasn't enough. It wasn't enough to be close. It wasn't enough to touch.

For eight long years she had tried to shut this man out of her mind, tried to shut him out of her heart. But there was no denying the truth of how she felt.
Now her body prepared to welcome him back inside, where she wanted him, where she needed him more than anything else.

He eased down the zip of her jeans and peeled them down her legs, collecting her panties and flicking off her sandals in the same desperate movement. His hands glided down her legs, gentle in touch but electric in intensity. Everywhere he touched sparked and fused. Desire rippled through her as the inevitable nearness of their union struck home.

He kneeled over her and took a deep breath, one hand now skimming over the skin of her stomach. She flinched slightly, knowing she was different from that girl who'd made love to him as a teenager. Since then this body had stretched, had borne a child, and she knew more than anyone of the telltale, even if somewhat faded proof of that. How would he react to that?

‘So beautiful, Alexandra. You are more beautiful than I remember.'

His words swelled her chest, bringing a smile to her mouth that was a mixture of pride and gratitude that he found her this way, that his eyes worshipped her. ‘Make love to me,' she said, suddenly sitting up and stretching one hand out to him.

His actions spoke loud in response as, without taking his eyes from her, he unbuckled his belt and shucked off his jeans. And then he was naked, and it was her turn to catch her breath. All the dreams she'd had, all the nights she'd imagined Nick in her
thoughts—they were nothing compared to the sight of the man who stood before her now.

She'd asked him to make love to her and only now did she realise what that entailed. She gulped down both wind and courage as she registered the sheer physical presence of him next to her. His abdomen, tight and muscular, the olive skin smooth and sheened, his hips, lean and strong, promising delivery of satisfaction—and beyond.

He reached out and took her hand. ‘Alexandra,' he said, his voice husky, almost catching as he lowered himself down alongside her. He held her hand to his mouth and kissed the palm of her hand—a gesture so simple yet somehow so intimate that she was moved by the depth of feeling it inspired in her.

‘Nick…' she said, before his lips found hers once more and there was no need for words of any kind. Their bodies spoke a language known only to them, his body wooing her with his strength and mastery, and her body responding to every subtle intonation and expression. His hands spoke of rediscovery, and her body sang with reawakening. His body spoke of his need, and hers answered it.

Pressure mounted within her until only one thing mattered and that was to have Nick fill her, to make the last nine years disappear in a blur of passion and desire. She clutched him, felt the slick sheen of his sweat at his lower back, and wished for him to fill her.

He kissed her and growled deep and low, pulling
away. ‘One moment,' he said, and then he was back—and when she realised what he was doing she almost cried out with relief. He was protecting her. While she was touched by his consideration, there was much more immediate cause to celebrate. At last! Soon he would be inside her and this long, dragging ache inside her would be gone.

He positioned himself between her legs, his hands at her hips. Without thinking she raised them in greeting and he accepted her invitation, nudging gently at first, then more insistently, before finally driving home the full glorious length of him.

Both of them stopped for a second, as if in awe of the moment. Alex felt her eyes widen with shock and pleasure combined. The moment held such clarity and purpose, as if both had been waiting too long for this moment to arrive and it was here.

Slowly at first he started moving, withdrawing, teasing, before filling her once more with his next thrust.

Alex moved under him, pleasure mounting into delicious torture, and she looked for release. It came in his next surging thrust and her immediate world exploded, again and again, as he filled every space inside her, just as he filled her heart.

They rocked together, feeling the tremors diminish, their breathing subside, their sweat-slicked bodies at last gentling, and Alex knew there would only ever be one man for her. How she'd managed to try and ignore the fact for the last nine years she had no idea.
For now it was crystal-clear that there would never be room in her heart or her bed for any man other than Nick.

And he was leaving.

Breath stopped in her chest. He hadn't said when, just that he was going back to Greece. In a few days or a few hours he'd be gone, and she would have lost him to another hemisphere once again.

His hand pushed some hair from her eyes, and, surprised, she turned to meet Nick's dark eyes on her.

‘You are thinking,' he said. ‘Tell me what you are thinking of.'

She smiled. ‘Just—thank you.' It was the truth too. She did owe him thanks—thanks for showing a gentler side of him, a side she'd thought lost completely under the bitter armour he'd built up around himself over the last few years, thanks for showing her that the man she'd thought lost was still there, deep down inside him.

His eyebrows and lips rose together, and his hand drew a line down the side of her face and down to her breast, circling the nipple.

‘Thank you for asking me. Now it is my turn to ask you.' His hand traced down to her navel, again circling. In spite of its recent release, her body stirred in delicious response. ‘Make love to me, Alexandra.'

She felt him harden alongside her, felt the nudge of his erection against her thigh, and anticipation rose in her once more. His mouth sought hers and she didn't need words to give her agreement. She con
veyed it in her kiss, in the touch of her hands, and in her body's response.

He was going home to Greece. But before he went she would ensure she had enough memories to take her through the long, lonely nights of the future. Memories of Nick. Memories of love.

She made love to him, and morning moved into afternoon and then into evening. They stopped to eat, sharing a salad and bread and memories of Crete, then shared an evening walk, hand in hand, along the beach, before falling into bed again as evening became night.

Alex yawned after their latest lovemaking and nestled into the space between his arm and his body. With his free arm he stroked her shoulder, almost hypnotising her. It had been a perfect day. Her body felt exhausted, yet at the same time exhilarated. Muscles she'd long forgotten about already voiced their protest.

She was deliciously close to sleep. ‘When are you leaving?' she asked softly.

His hand stopped and pulled away to rub his forehead. ‘A few days.'

Alex felt her heart squeeze tight. She'd known he was leaving, but still disappointment consumed her. But why should one day's lovemaking make any difference to his plans? She'd never believed it would—had she?

But what of a son? Would he stay if he knew about his son?

She licked her swollen lips. ‘Is there anything that might make you reconsider?'

‘I have businesses back in Greece. Now that Dimitri is here, there is no reason for me to stay. I have to go.'

He didn't hesitate with his response. She should feel grateful he'd made his intentions clear. She closed her eyes and nodded into his shoulder. ‘I know.'

So he was going. And tomorrow she would tell him about Jason. At least they would have a chance to meet each other before he left. Tomorrow. First thing tomorrow…

 

He was gone. Alex looked at the pillow next to her, devoid of everything but the impression of Nick's head. Her ears strained for sounds of running water—the shower—a kettle? But there was nothing to hear. The silence of an otherwise empty house wrapped around her. Only the sounds of early-morning bird calls drifted in from outside, like the bright needles of sunlight squeezing through the gaps in the curtains.