‘It was complicated.’
‘Why?’
She glanced across the room, considering that. ‘There were other people in the picture. My mom. His parents. His work. Getting divorced after a few months would have been disastrous for him.’
‘And staying wasn’t disastrous for you?’
Surprised by his perception, she shot him another glance. There was a haunted look in his face that took her breath away. ‘I thought I could fix it,’ she said, finally, sipping her coffee, cheeks flaming with regret at that. How silly she’d been. How naïve. ‘I thought I could fix him.’
‘One person alone cannot fix a broken relationship.’ It was too insightful to be anything but personal experience. She opened her mouth to say something along those lines, but he spoke first.
‘It’s been a long time, since I’ve been with a woman. To be honest, I never expected to have sex again.’ Her jaw dropped at that. He was far too masculine, too virile, to even contemplate a lifetime of denial. ‘I reacted badly, afterwards. I am sorry if that offended you. Believe me when I tell you, my response had nothing to do with you.’ He leaned closer, so their faces were almost touching. ‘Everything about you was perfect, as I said at the time.’
Her heart leaped into her throat and her pulse went into overdrive. Stars shimmered in her eyes again, all bright and silver, and, of its own accord, one hand lifted to press to his chest. Not to push him away, but to feel his warm skin beneath her palm, to touch him because he was inviting her to. He was opening the door again, to the intimacy they’d shared.
And in that moment, it was all she wanted. To banish all thoughts of James and their marriage from her mind with simple, deeply pleasurable sex with this incredibly gorgeous man.
Chapter Five
‘WHAT DO YOU MEAN, AGAIN?’ she asked, and inwardly he smothered a curse. Because he was showing too much. Sharing too much. He was out of practice with people. Aside from his business manager, Theo, and an occasional meeting with some of his executives, Nikos hadn’t made conversation with anyone in a long time. And even then, that was business, not small talk. Not the run-of-the-mill, ‘getting to know you’ conversation. He’d forgotten how to hedge.
And this woman was listening with both ears, taking in everything he said and analysing it. Asking him for more than he wanted to share.
He simply stared at her, not willing to answer her question, even though he’d opened the door to it.
‘You said you didn’t think you’d ever have sex again. After what?’
‘I just mean I’m single. By choice.’
She wrinkled her nose, clearly not sold on the line. And he couldn’t blame her. Given the alacrity with which he’d dragged her to bed, he could hardly blame her for perceiving his active libido.
‘Why?’
‘Does it matter?’
It was like seeing her visibly retract. She shifted a little, blinking away. Another curse flew through his mind. He knew this wasn’t about Genevieve. Not really. He’d just met her, after all. It was the sense of failure that dogged him constantly. The awareness that he’d once held something beautiful in his hands, had been entrusted with Isabella’s life, her happiness, and he’d destroyed both. He pulled back a little, on the pretence of reaching for his own coffee and taking a long drink.
‘So, how does this work?’
His chest twisted. This? Was she referring to ‘them’? Hadn’t he been clear about that? Sex was one thing, but as soon as the weather cleared, he needed to find a way to get her off the island. There was a radio in the helicopter, and he could call to have one of his staff dispatch a boat to collect her.
‘I mean, you don’t look like someone who exists on tinned tuna.’
Relief flooded his body. She was talking about his life here, on the island. Her curiosity was natural. When he’d first come here, he hadn’t cared if he lived or died. He’d thrown caution to the wind, and somehow, the wind had caught him. Bringing him an abundance of food, of shelter, so, day by day, his new habitat became familiar. Home.
‘The island has plenty of food.’
She arched a brow. ‘Such as?’
‘There’s a whole ocean out there,’ he pointed out.
‘So you go fishing?’
He nodded once, as some of his earliest memories filtered through his mind. The smell of salt water, his father’s hands, strong and capable, helping him reel in a catch that might otherwise have dragged him off the jetty, his mother smashing octopus against the rocks, until it was tender enough to char over flames. They’d fished out of desperation, to stave off hunger. On a good day, his father would catch enough to barter for something else, like eggs, or bread.
‘Has anyone ever told you having a conversation with you is a little like getting blood out of a stone?’
‘I’m out of practice.’
