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She swallowed, shifted. ‘I’m not sure I can do that.’
Actually, she was certain she couldn’t. Her only experience of kissing a man had been brief and botched and bumbling.
He stared at her for a long moment, then took a step closer—close enough that even in the fading light she could see the stubble forming on his jaw, the flecks of green and gold in his eyes.
‘In that case we have a problem. For this to work we both need to feel sure...’
There was a shimmering beat of silence.
‘But maybe I could help,’ he said softly.
Something was happening. The room was changing, shrinking, growing darker. She was changing too. Her body was humming. She could feel tremors of heat pulsing through her, swirling up inside her like flames drawn up a chimney.
What did he mean? How could he help—?
Her brain stalled, her heart stopped as his lips brushed against hers. And then his hand slid over her jaw to cup her cheek, and he lowered his head and fitted his mouth to hers.
It was like a thousand stars exploding. She felt all breath leave her body. Around her the air grew thick and heavy. Inside, everything started to melt.
Her eyelashes fluttered shut. This was nothing like any kiss she had experienced or could have imagined. His mouth was hot and hard, and the touch of his lips sent a fierce tingling heat straight to her belly. She arched helplessly against him, her hips meeting his, her fingers scrabbling against his arm, blindly, greedily kissing him back.
He made a rough sound in his throat, wrapping his hand around her waist and pulling her closer. The hard press of his body made flames roar through her, burning everything in their path, her hopes, the failure of her day, all logical thought so that there was nothing except Achileas and this devastating, demanding fire of need and longing...
‘Effie—’
He pulled her closer, then moved back, pushing her away as if in some strange, one-sided tug-of-war. Opening her eyes, she looked up at him dazedly. His hand was still cupping her face, but the blue of his eyes was rolling back like a tide turning.
Stunned, made mute by what had just happened and by its abrupt ending, she glanced past him, trying to steady herself, to get her bearings. In the early evening sunlight, her flat looked both familiar and yet strange and new, almost as if she was in a dream.
But her grip on his arm was real. And so was that kiss.
A few tendrils of her hair had escaped to curl loosely against her collarbone, and she watched, mesmerised, as he reached out and wound one round his finger.
‘Problem solved,’ he said softly. ‘All we have to do is agree to the terms of our arrangement and then we sign a contract, you sign an NDA, and we’re good to go.’
She stared up at him, fighting to keep her tremulous, lambent reaction to him to herself. Because of course it hadn’t been real for him. He had simply wanted to prove a point—and he had.
Unequivocally.
‘So, do we have an agreement?’
His voice was rough, impatient, and she felt her stomach clench. But it would be different next time. She would be different. She would know what to expect. Besides, when they were alone and behind closed doors there would be no need to kiss at all, and they wouldn’t kiss like that in public.
They weren’t going to kiss like that ever again.
This deal was not about kissing. It was about easing an old man’s mind, and it was about money, and afterwards she would have money. Real money. Enough to set up her business and give her mum the kind of care and comfort she deserved.
And okay, it was ‘unorthodox’, perhaps even a little crazy but it wouldn’t be like her parents’ marriage, and that was what she dreaded the most. Ending up in a relationship where nothing was as it seemed. Where trust and truth were vague, treacherous, shifting sands. At least this marriage to Achileas would have clear boundaries. Strict rules of engagement. There would be no secrets or lies between them.
Inside her head she heard a tiny click, like the hands of a clock stopping, and she let her gaze wander round the room, seeing it as if she had never looked at it before. This morning she had woken up thinking today would be the first day of her new life. It was what she’d hoped and planned for so long.
And now there was this. There was him. Achileas.
He hadn’t been part of that plan...
But he could be.
‘Yes. We have an agreement,’ she said quietly, and she felt a sharp rush of adrenaline and an eager anticipation that startled her with its intensity.
A flicker of triumph darkened his eyes to black. ‘I’ll have the paperwork sent over.’
