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Out of the corner of her eye she could see Apollo run a hand through his hair. ‘Look,’ he said, ‘we’re here for a few days. I’ve got some business to attend to with the resort they’re building and I’ve been invited to an opening of another resort on Santorini, not far from here, later this week. You’re still recuperating, so take this time to rest and it might help your memory.’
Sasha looked at Apollo. She couldn’t see his eyes behind his shades. Just the hard line of his jaw. That decadent mouth. The width of his shoulders and the breadth of his chest. Her heart beat faster. ‘You’re not leaving me here, then?’
Apollo’s jaw clenched as if her words had affected him. ‘I’m not a gaoler, Sasha. When we leave here, we’ll sign divorce papers and we’ll be able to move on with our lives.’
‘Move on with our lives.’
Whether her memory was back or not. Suddenly the thought of going back into a world she couldn’t remember was beyond intimidating. At that moment she’d never felt so alone.
Sasha looked vulnerable to Apollo, with a tiny frown between her eyes. Pale face. Very slight and slender. Yet he could remember the innate strength of her body as she’d taken him in so deeply he’d seen stars. The press of her breasts against his chest, nipples like bullets.
He took a deep breath, fought for control. He heard himself saying the words before he’d really articulated them to himself. ‘I told you, Sasha, I’ll make sure you’re in a safe and secure environment. You won’t be expected to navigate a world you don’t remember if your memory hasn’t yet returned.’
Something flashed in her eyes, an emotion Apollo couldn’t decipher. ‘Thank you. I appreciate that...after everything...’
She looked away from Apollo and gestured with a hand. ‘This is paradise. Thank you for bringing me here.’
Her expression had turned indecipherable. Her voice and tone as if she were a guest. For a moment Apollo had to battle the urge to take her arms and force her to look at him, force her to reveal the emotion she’d just hidden from him.
Disgust at himself made him say something curt about checking work emails and he strode off the terrace, every cell in his body crying out for another taste of the woman who had torn his life asunder.
During the days following their arrival on Krisakis, Sasha found that with the peace and tranquillity she was finally feeling totally recuperated. A
nd also it gave her mind time to settle too, and absorb all the revelations. The fake pregnancy, the divorce. Her behaviour.
Questions kept niggling at her—what had happened between them when she’d met Apollo and had then pretended to be pregnant? Why would she have done such a thing?
She still couldn’t remember sleeping with Apollo. But she suspected she was remembering in her dreams, which were becoming more and more vivid and erotic. Last night she’d dreamt of him again.
They’d both been naked and he’d been kneeling between her legs, pushing them apart. She’d felt gauche, self-conscious, but all of that had dissolved in a pool of electric heat when he’d lowered his head and pressed kisses up the inside of one thigh.
She’d been shaking, trembling with need. Body dewed with a fine sheen of perspiration. And then he’d hooked her legs over his shoulders and he’d put his mouth to her right there, at the centre of her being. His tongue and mouth had done such things to her—she blushed in the late afternoon heat just thinking about how his tongue had felt, thrusting inside her.
She’d woken up, her nightshirt clinging to her damp body, heart racing, inner muscles clamping around a phantom erection. Mortified, she’d dived into the shower in a bid to bring herself back to reality.
She took a deep shuddering breath and forced her mind away from disturbing dreams. She didn’t know what was worse—inhabiting her body in the dream or watching herself making love to Apollo from a distance. Both were equally disturbing.
She liked this time of the day best, late in the afternoon, when the intense heat of the sun had died down and it was more bearable. She’d found books on the well-stocked shelves of the informal living room and was reading a very unchallenging thriller. What did they call them? A cosy mystery? It was perfect for her exhausted and frayed brain.
She woke late most days, and wondered if she’d always had a habit of sleeping in. She was too scared to ask Apollo when he appeared every evening for their dinners on the terrace for fear of what he’d say.
He’d been gone every day from early, much like he had in Athens—presumably tending to business on the other side of the island.
They were both careful to stick to neutral topics at dinner, but Sasha couldn’t ignore the growing pull she felt towards him. The throbbing undercurrent of electricity that sprang to life as soon as he came near her.
As if on cue, the small hairs stood up on the back of her neck and she heard a movement and looked around to see Apollo walking out to where she sat on a sun lounger near the pool, under an umbrella.
She was glad of the light covering of a kaftan over her swimsuit—the only one she seemed to own—as her body reacted to seeing him. And the memory of that dream. His clothes didn’t help to calm her pulse. He was wearing board shorts and a polo shirt that showcased the bulging biceps of his arms and the hard pectorals of his chest. She saw dark hair curling just above the top open button.
As he came closer she said quickly, ‘I’m wearing sunscreen. Factor fifty.’
Was that the slightest twitch at the corner of his mouth? He sat down on the lounger beside her and Olympia appeared with a tray holding two tall glasses of homemade iced lemonade.
He smiled at Olympia. ‘Efharisto.’
The woman smiled back, looking ridiculously pleased with herself. Sasha couldn’t blame her.
Sasha watched as his Adam’s apple moved up and down as he took a gulp of the drink. Even that movement was sexy. She took such a quick gulp of her own drink to calm her ragged nerves that she coughed and spluttered. Immediately he was beside her, a hand on her back. ‘Are you okay?’
