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The following days became an exercise in frustration, a test of his willpower and the intensifying thrill and uncertainty that maybe he might not acquire his prey this time.
From afar, Christos watched Alexis charm the villa staff with halting Greek phrases she was determined to perfect, first when her gowns arrived and he happened upon her in the living room of their suite, trying them on with the help of a young maid. Their eyes met across the small mountain of boxes and frivolous tissues, her face flushed a delicate pink as she stood there, her curvy body lovingly outlined in a satin slip, and her bare thighs and legs delivering a fresh punch of lust into his groin.
‘There are way more gowns than I remember ordering,’ she said, indicating the garments strewn around her.
He leaned in the doorway, hands thrust into his pockets, another first as he basked in the previously boring exercise of watching a woman try on clothes. ‘I may have let myself be talked into expanding the collection on the premise that future engagements will necessitate their use.’
‘Future engagements?’ she echoed.
‘Costas is right. Perhaps it’s time to make our union a little bit more...public.’
‘What does that mean?’
‘It means I intend to let the world know you’re my wife when we leave here.’
Her eyes were wide and her lips parted when he walked away; she was a little perturbed to notice he was smiling.
After that he found himself watching her, increasingly aware of and intensely absorbed by her movements around the villa. Like when he found her sunbathing by the pool, the lime-green bikini clinging to her glorious, sun-kissed skin making his entire body clench in fierce need. Her exploration on the beach, usually before sunset, when the sun cast dazzling golden light in her hair. Their meals with Costas were equally absorbing. She’d shed her shyness and indulged Costas’s wicked banter with a sharp wit he found entertaining.
But the nights were the most taxing of all. To give himself a break from that battering of his libido, he waited a clear hour before joining her in their suite. Not that it helped. She might have got over her reticence on their first night but Alexis tossed and turned in her sleep for several minutes after he’d slid in beside her, making him painfully aware of her graceful limbs, of the rich thickness of her hair almost reaching out to him across the pillows, of her bewitching scent that insisted on wrapping itself around his senses and especially around his manhood, keeping him hard and on the edge of his control as she gleefully slept on.
His only consoling thought was that maybe she wasn’t having a particularly easy time of it either. He called her on it four nights later, as she was about to excuse herself to let him spend a few minutes alone with his grandfather. But tonight, Costas had pleaded tiredness and retired before coffee was served, leaving them alone.
Christos caught her arm before she could make her escape. ‘Wait.’
Slowly, she sat, her eyes flicking warily to his. ‘What is it?’
‘Are you ready to give me your answer?’ he asked, unable to drag his gaze from lips she’d painted a luscious, kissable gloss.
‘What makes you think it’s changed?’ she parried, although the faintest flush tinged her skin.
‘I’ve seen how you grip that pillow between us. How you tuck it between your legs when you sleep, as if to alleviate a certain ache. You grow breathless around me, and I’ve noticed the way your eyes follow me when you think I’m not looking.’
Her mouth opened in shock. ‘You’re unbelievable!’
‘I’m simply observant. Do you protest because it’s the truth? Or because I’ve noticed?’
‘Shut up!’
He laughed.
She gave an unladylike growl before tossing her napkin at him. He batted it away before leaning in close.
‘You need an outlet? Feel free to use me instead, matia mou,’ he offered, then had the pleasure of seeing her eyes turn that liquid chocolate he craved.
‘Thanks for the offer but no, thanks. The only thing I want to do now is go to bed.’ Her face flamed on the heels of her words. When he laughed again, her lips pursed. ‘I meant alone...’ Then at his raised eyebrow, she growled again. ‘You know what I mean,’ she whispered angrily.
It pleased him that, even het up, she was being discreet enough not to give the game away. Then he sobered up as sharp realisation hit him. He didn’t want this to be a game. He wanted...
‘What is it?’ Her question held sudden tension.
He released her, snatching his thoughts away from the sudden need for the unthinkable. For things he’d never craved or wanted. Things that would eventually only spawn hatred and recrimination. He had the emotional scars to prove it after all. ‘You can go.’
‘That wasn’t what I asked,’ she replied stubbornly, standing her ground. ‘What’s going on in that brain of yours?’
Christos rose from the table, closed the gap between them with a single step. ‘Do you really want to find out, koukla mou?’
