Her hands moved of their own accord behind his back, fingers splayed wide as one moved higher, and the other lower, to the curve of his muscular buttocks, and lower still, to curve around one cheek. He cursed softly in his native tongue, and her eyes widened at the sheer passion that infiltrated the word. Making her feel as though he’d never known anything quite so perfect as this. Making her feel as though she were the beginning and end of everything he’d ever wanted, even when she knew that wasn’t true.
She had no idea what had brought him to this island—nor did she want to know. That wasn’t what this was. It didn’t matter to Genevieve if he was someone who made a habit of seducing women, or if he did this rarely. She didn’t care if he had a string of girlfriends in his past. None of that mattered. He wore no wedding ring, and for this night, he was hers, just as he’d said.
She didn’t even need all night, she thought with a flicker of her lips, as she swayed her body forward so her breasts brushed against his chest. Flames exploded through her, starting at her nipples and quickly eradiating her entire body. Her eyes widened in surprise.
‘I didn’t know…’ she said, then quickly tapered off at what she’d been about to admit. That she hadn’t known anything, ever, could feel this good.
He caught her chin with one hand, tilting her face up to his, so their eyes locked and his stormy sky gaze searched hers. ‘Do you want me to touch you,koukla?’
Her skin flushed at his use of the unfamiliar word, but also at the question. She wanted him to touch her, yes. She just didn’t have the confidence to say as much. How she hated her ex-husband then, for what he’d taken from her. For how much he’d undermined her, and made her doubt herself as a sexual being.
‘I—’
His finger lifted higher, to trace the outline of her full lips. ‘It is an easy yes or no question.’
‘Easy for you, perhaps,’ she whispered.
His eyes roamed her face with lazy indolence, as though he were reading her like an open book. She stood there, incapable of looking away, of shrugging off his gaze. Incapable, too, of hiding her thoughts, she suspected, because a moment later he said, ‘Will you tell me “no”, if you want me to stop?’
She sucked in an uneven breath and nodded slowly.
‘I need to hear you say it,’ he said, but his body moved closer, so his erection pressed against her. She swallowed past a strange tightening in her throat.
‘Yes,’ she said, the word barely a whisper. But it was good enough for the man in front of her, whose eyes flared at the verbal consent. His hands fell to the bottom of the shirt she wore, and he moved quickly to remove it, halfway ripping it over her head to reveal her naked breasts, so she didn’t have time to feel self-conscious or embarrassed, to worry about the flaws her ex-husband had been all too ready to point out. Breasts that were too small, for example. She’d been ashamed, for so long, but the way Nikos’s eyes fell to and devoured them almost as though they were the answer he’d been seeking all his life…everything inside her flared to life. And it only got hotter when he swore, as if he almost couldn’t bear it.
‘Christos,’he murmured, dropping his head then, to whisper against the indentation of her jawline. ‘Were you sent by the gods to torment me?’
She didn’t have enough mental acumen left to ask him what he meant. Besides, in the small part of her brain capable of any kind of thought, she wondered the same thing. Was he a creation of her mind? Had she, in fact, crashed on the shore and fallen into a state of delirium? Surely that made more sense than this…
‘Am I tormenting you?’ she asked as he dropped his mouth lower, to her décolletage and then to her breast, tracing lines across it with his tongue before drawing one nipple into his mouth and sucking on it hard enough to make her groan as ecstasy overtook her completely. No one,ever, had made her feel like this. Stars literally flooded her eyes, making everything in the room sparkle with silver and gold, and her hands went, of necessity, to his shoulders, clinging to him there for dear life.
‘You are everything I shouldn’t want,’ he said, making her wonder why, yet she couldn’t ask the question.
His jaw was covered in stubble and it itched her chest as he dragged his mouth to her other nipple now, but in a way that only added to her heightened sense of awareness and arousal. His hand shifted to her waist, digging into the elastic of her underpants—still a little damp from the storm—and pushing them down her legs, until she was able to step out of them.
It all happened so quickly, and he was so close, so again there was no chance to feel self-conscious of her nudity, because a moment later he was lifting her as though she weighed nothing—which she supposed to a man of his stature was true—and carrying her across the rustic cabin towards the solid bed at the centre.
He placed her down on it with a mix of urgency and reverence, and no sooner had her back connected with the surprisingly comfortable mattress than his mouth was chasing hers, kissing her in a way she’d never known she could be kissed. In a way that wasn’t inquisitive or tentative, and in a way that wasn’t all wet and tongue-ish, as her husband had kissed. This was the exact opposite. It was a kiss that was firm and commanding, a kiss of need that made her whole body feel alive with sensations. It was a kiss that could surely only be a beginning, because she ached for—no, needed—so much more. All of this, all of him, just for as long as the storm lasted. As if to underscore that, lightning burst beyond the window, casting the cabin in a flood of light, before the thunder rumbled right overhead. She was only conscious of it in the back of her mind though—every part of her was absorbed by this. Him. And wild, uncontrollable need.
His knee parted her thighs even as he continued to kiss her, and those hands of his, big and in control, roamed her body as if he was seeing her with his touch. Over the undulations of her small breasts, to the neatness of her waist, lower, to her thighs. Then she squawked a little at the unfamiliarity of that touch, so he lifted up and stared at her, eyes darkened by passion, and said, ‘Do you want me to stop?’
She could feel the heat bursting through her face but she shook her head with a wildness that was born purely of the desperate passion he’d invoked. ‘Definitely not.’
His smile surprised her, because he seemed very much like a man who didn’t smile often—and she enjoyed seeing it.
His hands on her thighs were just as demanding as she’d given him permission to be, separating them so her legs were spread wide, and he stared down at her sex in a way she might have longed to hide from, if this had been anyone and anything else. But somehow knowing him to be just a stranger, who she would never see again, gave this whole encounter a surreal quality that washed away any of her usual self-consciousness and doubt.
Or maybe it was the way a sensual awareness was overtaking every part of her, so she was burning up with the wild, untamed desire he had invoked, and the only solution, in the face of that, was absolute surrender.
When his mouth shifted downward, over her flat stomach, and then lower still, to her most intimate self, and his tongue began to lash against her, she cried out, the sharp sense of pleasure tormenting her, so she arched her back and cried his name, even as the shock of his intimate kiss was pulling her out of the moment.
No one had ever kissed her there. She’d never known this. And it was sublime. Absolutely, achingly sublime.
His tongue was quick and insistent, his hands holding her legs wide when she might otherwise have brought them together, purely because the pleasure he was lavishing on her almost bordered on too intense, but she could only lie there and let him obliterate all sense and reason, as the walls of everything she thought she knew about herself and her sexuality came tumbling down, tipping her over into her very first orgasm. Her very first true sexual pleasure.
It was fast and intense and completely all-consuming, so she pushed up onto her elbows as the waves exploded over her, leaving her throbbing from head to toe with the heady rush of release. ‘Oh my God,’ she whispered tremulously, fighting back tears at the overwhelming realisation that she was, in fact, capable of sexual pleasure and need after all. It just took this kind of Greek god to stir it to life…
‘You taste like heaven,’ he muttered, and though the words were flattering, she heard something in his voice that made her pause. Something that briefly marred the pleasure and euphoria she was surfing. Because he sounded resentful. Angry, even. But why?
