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She remembered him that first day. All soaking-wet muscle and barely suppressed impatience as he’d forced her under the shower. Even then, sick and grief-stricken, she’d barely been able to take her eyes off his magnificent body.
And now … she had the right to do more than look.
Mesmerised, she watched him lather the soap between his hands, slowly, methodically, and then reach behind her to put it down. His breath was warm against her face as his hands, slippery with soap bubbles, skimmed across her collar-bone, down the curve to her breasts, where he slowed and circled, till she bit down on her lip to stop from calling out. She reached for his shoulders, needing his strength to stay upright as the slow, erotic swirl of his hands weakened her knees.
‘There are so many things I’ve been wanting to do with you, Sophie.’ His voice was a low rumble and his smile was taut as his hands smoothed a path down her ribcage, into the indentation of her waist, out across the flare of her hips and then lower.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
SOPHIE NEVER WANTED to move. She could stay like this forever.
She was sprawled in the largest, most luxurious bed she’d ever seen. The rich cotton sheets were soft against her skin. Her body felt light, almost weightless, but at the same time ultra-sensitive, after hour upon hour of lovemaking.
Even now she felt a warm curl of satisfaction deep in her belly at how well-loved she’d been.
No wonder she didn’t have the strength yet to raise her head or open her eyes.
Last night Costas had been so voracious in his need for her. Under his tutelage she’d responded uninhibitedly. They’d taken each other to peak after peak, as desire was rekindled time and again.
He’d been boldly demanding. Outrageously seductive. Fiercely passionate. And incredibly tender.
He’d brought tears to her eyes more than once. And the way he’d watched her so intensely, refusing to turn out the light precisely, he said, because he needed to see her. She shivered, remembering the intensity of his regard. At first she’d been reluctant, preferring to hide her responses to him. But th
en she’d discovered just what he meant, as she watched him lose control for her. Just for her.
That was the reason she felt so good.
It wasn’t just the sex. It was the bond, so strong now between them that she knew he felt it just as much as she did.
Maybe this time when he woke there’d be time for conversation, for declarations.
She wriggled, snuggling down beneath the sheet.
It took her a while to realise that for the first time since she’d seen Costas stalking out of the sea towards her, she couldn’t feel him. All night he’d been close, touching, embracing, stroking. Teasing. As if he couldn’t bear her as far as arm’s length from him.
Which had suited her just fine.
Sophie swiped her foot across the bed.
Nothing.
She frowned and dragged her hand across the sheet till her arm stretched across the centre of the mattress. It was cold.
She frowned. The bathroom? She couldn’t hear anything. But the rooms were soundproofed. Heat scorched her throat and cheeks as she remembered Costas reassuring her last night that she could be as loud as she liked and no one but he could hear.
She opened her eyes and saw it was morning. Not only that—it was late. The glare of full sun rimmed the curtains. She rolled onto her back and found herself alone.
A cold weight settled in her stomach, pressing down.
Ridiculous. There was nothing wrong. Costas was probably in the shower, maybe even waiting for her.
She threw back the sheet and crawled to the end of the bed, aware now of the dull, delicious ache of muscles rarely used. She was a little self-conscious by the time she reached the door to the en suite bathroom. But that was ridiculous. After all that had happened between them there was no need to be.
Nevertheless she paused and knocked.
No answer.
She rapped harder with her knuckles, waited for the door to swing open and Costas to smile down at her, his eyes glittering with secret promise.
