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“Did you explain it to her?”

“I felt I had to, and I think she deserved the truth.”

Something flashed across Rose’s face. “And what is the truth?” she asked, a hint of challenge to her voice, and Christos stared at her.

“What do you mean?”

“What did you tell her?”

He let out a little impatient sigh, not wanting to go through it again, and especially not with Rose. “Just the essentials, Rose. People will be curious, and I’m not ashamed.”

“I’m not, either,” she fired back, and they stared at each other in a way that felt like an impasse.

“Good,” Christos finally said. He wanted to put this behind him—whatever this even was—and enjoy the party. Enjoy Rose. The last thing he wanted right now was an argument.

To his relief, she seemed to feel the same, because the spark went from her eyes, and she touched his hand again. “I’m ready for this party to be over,” she confessed, and Christos inclined his head in wry acknowledgment.

“Me, too.” He wanted to be alone with Rose, to recapture the connection he knew they had, and let it both comfort and strengthen him. He squeezed her fingers. “Soon,” he whispered, just as someone tapped a glass to begin the toasts.

Chapter Eighteen

The hotel was quiet and dark all around them as Rose and Christos stepped into their penthouse suite from the hallway. Esmerelda had her own suite on the floor below, and after an endless evening, they were finally alone.

Rose couldn’t keep a groan from escaping her as she eased off her shoes. Behind her, Christos closed the door softly. They were really alone, she thought, in a way they hadn’t been yet, not truly. And despite the unspoken tensions of the evening, she wanted to put it all behind them. She wanted to reassure both Christos and herself that what they had was real and true, because it was. Tonight would prove it.

“You were magnificent tonight,” Christos told her, coming to stand behind her, his hands resting lightly on his shoulders.

Rose turned, so her breasts brushed her chest, and her breath hitched. “So were you.”

He smiled down at her, and Rose laid her hands on his chest, so she could feel the steady beat of his heart beneath her palm. Why, she wondered, did she feel so shy? Maybe because the last time they’d talked about this, Christos had turned away. Maybe also because she was just as innocent in the ways of seduction as she had been then.

But she didn’t want to be anymore.

She tilted her head up toward his, her pulse leaping in her throat. She was so ready for this…and she was almost positive Christos was, too.

A slight frown marred Christos’s forehead as he gazed down at her. “Rose…?”

“Kiss me,” she blurted. A soft smile curved his mouth before he obliged—tenderly, sweetly, as he had always been kissing her—and not how she wanted to be kissed right now. “I mean really kiss me,” she said. He eased back to study her face, his gaze moving slowly over her as if looking for clues.

“Are you saying…” he began, and she nodded.

“Yes,” she admitted on a wobbly laugh. “Yes, Christos. This is probably the clumsiest seduction known to man, but yes, that is what I’m saying.”

He laughed softly, a sensuous sound. “You’re seducing me?”

Rose laughed back, no more than a wobble, because this still felt so very new. “Well, trying to.”

“I think,” he mused, “I’m the one who should be seducing you.”

Rose let out a shaky breath of relief. “I would very much like to be seduced,” she told him, her tone heartfelt, and Christos’s expression darkened in a way that made her stomach flip.

“And I,” he told her, “would very much like to seduce you.”

He kissed her again then, just as sweetly, but only for a moment before it deepened into something that was far more primal, possessive and intent. His hands slid to her hips as he anchored her to him and his mouth continued its delicious onslaught. Rose’s mind spun, her body melting as she leaned into him, kissing him back with a ferocity that she feared was clumsy but no less heartfelt. She wanted to show him that she loved him, even if she hadn’t yet managed to say the words. And she felt Christos was showing her, too.

He stepped back, his breathing ragged, the color high on his cheeks. Then wordlessly he took her by the hand and led her into the bedroom. Moonlight streamed in from the windows, silvering the lagoon outside as well as the huge bed right before them. Everything was still, silent, like a hushed breath.

Christos turned to her. In one easy movement, he undid the bow at the back of her neck. Her gown slithered down her body, pooling at her hips.