I kissed her passionately. “God, I love you.”
“I know,” she responded simply.
15
I stirred slowly from sleep, consciousness returning in the darkness of Chrys’s room. Last night after dinner, we went for a drive, talking about everything and nothing until the stars blanketed the sky. We’d returned to his room, not mine, and simply held each other until sleep claimed us both.
I reached across the bed, expecting to find Chrys sleeping beside me, but his side was empty. Blinking away the last traces of sleep, I pushed myself up on my elbows, scanning the shadowy room.
That’s when I spotted him in the corner, shirtless, illuminated by a single lamp. He sat behind what appeared to be an easel,completely absorbed in whatever he was doing, unaware I was awake. His brow furrowed in concentration as his hand moved with confident strokes.
“What are you doing?” I asked, my voice still husky from sleep.
Chrys startled, then smiled when our eyes met. “You’re awake, aggelé mou. I’m drawing.”
“Drawing?” I pulled the sheet up instinctively, though I was still wearing my clothes from yesterday. “Since when do you draw? And at two in the morning?”
“I couldn’t sleep. And I’m not a professional or anything. Just something I’ve done since I was a kid.”
Curiosity piqued, I slid out of bed. “Can I see?”
“Sure, but remember, I’m not finished.” His warning held a note of uncertainty. “It’s just a rough sketch.”
I padded across the floor to where he sat, moving behind him to peer over his shoulder. What I saw made me freeze, my breath catching.
The drawing depicted me lying in the sand at Thalassía, completely nude, my body relaxed and satisfied, curls splayed around my head like a halo.
The detail was exquisite—the texture of my hair, the curves of my body, even the small birthmark on my hip. Most striking washow he’d captured my languid, peaceful, completely vulnerable expression in the aftermath of our lovemaking.
“Chrys... this is...” Words failed me. “You lied,” I finally managed, finding my voice. “You’re not justnot a professional, you’re phenomenal.”
He chuckled, setting down his charcoal pencil and turning to face me. “I don’t share this side of myself.”
“Why hide this talent?” I reached past him to touch the edge of the paper, still stunned by what I was seeing.
“Because it’s mine,” he said simply. “Not for sponsors or fans. Just for me.” His eyes met mine, vulnerable in a way I rarely saw him. “And now for you.”
He stood, his hands finding my waist. “I have to leave in a few hours,” he murmured, his lips brushing my neck. “Milan awaits.”
I tilted my head, giving him better access as his kisses traced a path to my collarbone. “I wish you weren’t going.”
“Then come with me,” he whispered.
“I can’t,” I reminded him. “I have work to do here.”
His sigh was warm against my neck. “I know. I respect it, even if I don’t like it.”
His hands slid down from my waist, gripping my hips and pulling me against him. I could feel his hardness pressing into me, sending a wave of heat through my body.
We kissed, our tongues dancing and exploring each other’s mouths. I wrapped my arms around his neck, pulling him closer, my body aching for his touch.
He broke the kiss, his lips trailing down my jaw, nipping at my earlobe. His hands roamed my body, sliding under my shirt to caress my breasts. I moaned softly as his thumbs circled my nipples, drawing out a moan from deep within me.
Chrys lifted my shirt over my head, tossing it aside. “I want to taste you,” he murmured.
Dropping to his knees, his hands slid down my body, taking my shorts and underwear with them. I stepped out of them, baring myself before him.
Chrys looked up at me. “You’re exquisite, aggelé mou,” he whispered, his breath warm against my skin.
