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And yet he was still lying to her.
He turned away from the restless sea.
Even after she had revealed so much of herself to him, he hadn’t told her the truth about Andreas. He lacked her courage, and he hated that. But he couldn’t tell her that his father had never wanted him. Or that even now Andreas’s love and acceptance came with a condition.
How could he do that when she was the condition?
Later. He would tell her later, when everything between them was more settled, and after that they would face his father together. Then, when it was all over, she would leave, and he would get on with his life. A life without his dark burden.
His eyes narrowed. In the bedroom Effie was awake, and right now there was a new item at the top of his agenda. In fact, there was only one item, one agenda...and he walked towards her.
‘What are you doing out here? Apart from wearing too much clothing.’
Effie jumped. A pair of warm hands slid around her waist and Achileas’s stubbled jaw grazed her throat as he kissed her softly.
‘I was just watching the boats. There’s so many of them today.’
His fingers tiptoed beneath her shirt—his shirt, technically—and instantly she could feel herself sliding into that yielding place between the warmth of his hands and the sudden pounding of her heart.
‘It’s that time of year,’ he murmured. ‘It’s the Galanólefki Ball this weekend.’
‘What’s that?’
He moved closer, and she felt more of that same mix of weakness and wonder as his body fitted around hers, hard where she was soft.
‘It’s an annual fundraising ball in aid of a selection of children’s charities, hosted at the Hipparchus Observatory in Athens. A glitzy gala night attended by local luminaries and global celebrities. Or that’s what it says in the papers.’
His mouth had found the sensitive hollow just below her ear and she felt her pulse leap beneath his lips. Resisting the urge to let him explore further, she turned in the circle of his arms.
‘What is Gala...? Gala—?’ She stumbled over the word, distracted by the miraculous contours of his bare chest.
‘Gal-an-ó-lefki,’ he said slowly. ‘It’s what the Greeks call their flag. Like you have the Union Jack. It means blue and white. That’s the dress code. It’s a big deal. Wall-to-wall billionaires, and it does a lot of good. The ticket price alone raises millions.’
His eyes tracked the flotilla of white yachts slicing through the blue waves and she sensed that he was debating something.
‘Actually, Arete is one of the sponsors.’
‘It is?’
They were talking easily. Like a couple, in fact. She was still coming to terms with that. With how much things had changed between them over the last few days. Three days, in fact. Three days since she had told Achileas the truth about her father’s gambling and her mum’s illness.
He had been angry. Of course. He was Achileas. But he had put his anger aside and he had held her against him, his arms tight around her body, as if he wanted to keep her safe. Wanted her to know he would keep her safe.
And she wanted that too. But most of all she wanted him.
Her throat was suddenly so dry it hurt to swallow. It was three days since she had lost her virginity, and her knowledge of sex and bodies—both her own and his—had grown exponentially hour by hour. Three days in which the half-formed fantasies she’d had about sex had been swept away by a man who had initiated her into an A to Z of positions and techniques that she was pretty sure few people even knew existed.
Her stomach cartwheeled. Somehow, he made sex feel like the most natural thing in the world, and intensely, mind-meltingly erotic. She simply couldn’t imagine a better first lover.
A better lover.
Her ribs were suddenly too tight. Not that they were making love. She might be new to all this, but she understood enough to know that even though it felt like a wildness in her blood this was just sex.
‘You sound surprised.’ He was staring at her intently, an eyebrow raised, the blue of his eyes rivalling the spring sky above their heads.
She shook her head. ‘I’m not surprised. I know you can be a good person.’
In bed, he was gentle, teasing, sometimes fierce and demanding. But he was always patient and generous and focused on every beat of her blood.
