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‘But she walked away. I never saw her again.’
Anger twisted inside him, a hot, irrational anger at her mother for hurting her so badly. ‘Then she was a fool,’ he said fiercely, looking down into her eyes. ‘It wasn’t your fault she turned her back on you. That was her decision. And it was the wrong one. She should have been there for you no matter what you’d done because that’s what being a parent is all about.’
‘But maybe if I hadn’t been so angry, if I hadn’t let my emotions get the better of me... Maybe if I hadn’t been so weak—’
‘You weren’t weak,’ he interrupted flatly, so there could be no doubt. ‘She was the weak one to turn her back on her child. Not you.’
She didn’t speak for a long moment, only looking up at him, the currents ebbing and flowing in her gaze. Then she said, ‘I’ve told you something. Now it’s your turn.’
But he didn’t want to do that, to have her painful past get lost in the mire of his, so he only shook his head and kissed her again, slow and sweet.
She’d given him a gift and he wanted to mark it.
‘Xerxes, stop,’ she murmured against his lips, but without any real conviction.
‘Let me, Callie,’ he whispered. ‘Let me make it better.’
And when she sighed, her hands against his chest starting to caress, he kissed her deeper, tasting that fire, the hot passion she tried to hide beneath the mask of the impassive guard.
Well, he didn’t want her hiding it. He didn’t want her locking it down or thinking it was a weakness. He wanted her passionate. He wanted her wild. He wanted her burning for him.
He resumed his trail of kisses, down her neck and further down, finding her breast then flicking his tongue across one hard nipple. Then he took the tip into his mouth, sucking on her gently at first, then harder, making her cry out.
He tormented the taut peak, teasing it with his tongue and then the edges of his teeth, before turning his attention to her other breast.
She shuddered, twisting beneath him, panting, her body lithe and strong and so achingly beautiful. Her skin was flushed with pleasure, her eyes closed, her mouth open. She looked thoroughly and completely seduced.
He kissed his way down her flat stomach, spreading her thighs, finding his way to the soft nest of curls between them. She was all slick and wet and hot, her hips shifting restlessly, wanting more, so he gave it to her, laying his mouth on her. She cried out, her body jerking, and when he parted her slippery flesh with his fingers and began to explore her in earnest, she sobbed.
He drew it out for as long as possible, giving her as much pleasure as it was in his power to give, making her sweat and drawing more raw, desperate cries from her.
And then, when she was as balanced on the knife edge of pleasure as he could get her, he pressed his palms down on her thighs, holding them wide. ‘Scream for me,’ he murmured against her damp skin. ‘I want to hear how well I’ve satisfied you.’
Then he flicked his tongue against her one last time and she screamed and screamed and screamed.
CHAPTER EIGHT
AFEWDAYSLATER,Calista got up after a lazy afternoon nap, pulling on one of the sundresses that Xerxes had finally relented and bought her. She’d wanted something more practical, but he’d told her the soldier was currently on leave, which meant she could let the woman out to play.
Initially she hadn’t been entirely comfortable with that, but after a day or two of passion in his arms she’d let herself relax, and when he’d sat down with her and a laptop, getting her to choose some pretty dresses from a high-end designer website, she’d given in. And after five minutes her reluctance had turned into delight as she found herself admiring fabrics and styles. Something she hadn’t let herself do in years.
Xerxes had bought everything she’d shown an interest in and they were brought the next day by helicopter. He’d insisted on a fashion show, which had then turned into a strip show as she’d changed out of different dresses in front of him, teasing him in a way that made him laugh as well as making his gaze flare with heat. Until he’d finally taken her down on the floor of the lounge in a bout of passionate lovemaking.
The white cotton dress with the straps that tied at her shoulders was his favourite, mainly because it was so easy to take off, and so she put that one on then padded down the hallway, hungry and wondering where he was.
They’d fallen into an easy rhythm over the past couple of days, one that consisted mainly of sex and food, followed by lazy conversation, sleep and then maybe a dip in the pool or a visit to the beach at the foot of the cliffs beneath the house, and a swim in the sea.
Calista forgot about her control. Forgot about her armour. She loved that he flirted with her, making her laugh with his outrageousness, and then demanded that he teach her to flirt with him. She ended up being a natural and every time she made the gold in his eyes gleam and his beautiful mouth curve, it felt like a victory.
But she was still missing one thing.
She’d hoped that by forcing herself to tell him about her mother, he’d reciprocate with something about himself. To talk about the significance of the scars on his body and why he hadn’t wanted her to touch him, but he didn’t. He didn’t mention them again.
Yet the more days that passed, the more desperate she was to know. That it was a painful topic, she understood, and she didn’t want to cause him pain. But talking about her mother with him and having his fierce protectiveness turned towards her had felt like balm to an aching wound. She hadn’t had someone care about her feelings, about how she’d been hurt, for a long time.
And now she wanted to do the same for him. To be the balm to whatever wound had hurt him. Of course, she shouldn’t be wanting that, because that was getting emotional and emotions weren’t supposed to be part of what they had together.
But that didn’t stop her wanting it.
