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‘I don’t want to cry,’ she said.
‘Tomorrow,’ he said, and kissed her...softly at first.
Roula had guessed she was going to get gentle Galen, all tender, now that he knew the truth. Except she didn’t know Galen, nor the way he could kiss her in full view of Athens.
He sucked at the tip of her tongue, just a bit, and then he sucked at her bottom lip. And then, when she thought she knew his kiss, he changed it. He kissed her so hard, so deep, that if the sky hadn’t been navy then it might have turned pink, for he was devouring her with his mouth and then denying her his kiss.
They were right on the edge, looking at each other, almost challenging each other—to what, neither quite knew.
‘Come inside,’ he said.
She knew she must, or they would be arrested, or filmed, or who knew what.
He led her not to his bed, but to the most beautiful bathroom in the world.
‘Are we having a bath?’ she asked.
‘Takes too long to fill,’ Galen said. ‘Maybe later.’
‘I love your bathroom.’
‘It’s the best.’
She looked in the mirror and he stood behind her. ‘Why are we in here?’
‘So I can look at you,’ Galen said. ‘At us.’
He looked stunning, end-of-the-night beautiful, and somehow her dress looked even better in the soft antique mirror and she could admit something.
‘It feels vain, but I think I look beautiful...’ She couldn’t stop looking—not so much at herself, more atthem.
‘Tonight, everyone is beautiful. Monday, not so much...’ Galen said.
Roula did not want to think about Monday, and she didn’t have to right now—because he was undoing the little hooks on her dress between deep kisses to her shoulder, and she watched his lips on her skin and the gentle suck of his mouth. Every now and then the hooks irritated him, so he gave in and pressed his hands into her breasts, kissed her neck as she watched.
‘I don’t want to leave a mark,’ he said, getting back to the little clasps. ‘Not a good look for your first day at work.’
She flushed with tense anger as he brought up Monday again, when they would be no more, but then he dealt with the last clasp and exposed her breasts.
Roula stared at them, all white and creamy, and the ridiculous thing was it was as if she had never really seen them before—well, at least not until Galen. She had just stuffed them into a bra. Now they fascinated her. He was stroking them from behind and his head was lowering, so she could only see his hands. He kissed the notches at the top of her spine, and then her scapula as if it was the most vital part of her. She had barely known it existed, let alone that his mouth upon it might make her want to fold over.
‘I’ve wanted to do that all night,’ he said, coming up to stand. ‘And this...’ Galen said, and he helped her step out of the dress so she stood only in lacy knickers and heels.
‘Look,’ he told her.
‘Galen...’
She was the only one near naked, and she knew it would be a whole lot easier to be buried in his kiss than to confront the sight of herself in the mirror. ‘Galen behind glass,’ she said, looking at his hands on her stomach. His fingers were creeping into the lace, and she told him one of her secrets. ‘I touched myself once, thinking about you.’
‘Did you?’
Roula nodded. ‘Before...’
‘I like knowing that.’ He was kissing the skin between her neck and her shoulder.
‘I didn’t know what I was doing.’
‘Show me.’ He took her hand and he guided it down, and his hand was over hers.
