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CHAPTER EIGHT
SHEMOVEDQUICKLY, as though jumping into a pool, throwing herself at him with all her body, lifting her lips to his at the same moment he wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her against him, kissing her right back, his mouth dominating hers, claiming it and holding it. Shards of something like certainty burst through him, because something about that kiss on this beach felt a thousand kinds of right and he knew then that he’d brought her here for this exact reason. Not because he’d thought they’d have sex, but because there was something so pure and right here, that it felt like a place to be free of all the restrictions that had been dogging them ever since she arrived in his office and suggested this marriage.
His tongue duelled with hers, tasting her, flicking her mouth, as his hands drew her down onto the sand, a fierce need erupting inside of him, demanding more, making him want her a thousand times over, so he rolled her onto her back, the water lapping gently at their feet as he kissed her, tasting her sweetness and being deluged by memories of that long-ago night when a similarly urgent need had rolled through them.
She made a whimpering noise that sent his senses into overdrive, so he pushed at her shirt, gliding it up her body until she lifted her head off the sand so he could remove it altogether, revealing her beautiful breasts contained in a lacy bra. He groaned, the sight one he wanted to hold in his memory for all time. He savoured the moment of seeing of her just like this, with the sun striking rays of gold across her body, her eyes glinting with sensual heat, and then he kissed her again, running his hands over her, feeling the softness of her skin, the smoothness of her hips, before he pushed at her shorts and she lifted her hips, inviting him to remove them, kicking her legs to get them off faster, until she was wearing only a pair of briefs and a bra and his own pulse was so frantic he wondered if he might be about to have a heart attack.
But wild horses were at his back, and Theresa’s frantic cries were passion-soaked and urgent, so he moved his lips to her throat, then lower, flicking his tongue over her decolletage, tasting her sweet saltiness, then to her breasts. Through the fabric of her bra, he clamped his teeth around her nipple and felt a wave of masculine possessive heat when she shuddered against him, and suddenly this wasn’t enough. He needed so much more.
He pushed at the fabric urgently, releasing her breasts, cupping them, holding them, feeling their weight in his hands, rubbing his hands over her puckered nipples so she arched her back in silent invitation and he brought his mouth to hers, swallowing her cries as water lapped at their feet, gently, warm, heavenly sweet.
He was urgent, there was something wild and frantic driving him, something that was completely beyond his control. He pushed at her underpants, sliding them down her legs, his breathing forced, rushed, as he stared at her then, naked beneath him, so stunning and pale against the sand, so trusting and so completely his. He groaned, because even when this felt so inevitable and right, on some level it felt wrong too, because she was Stavros’s sister and he’d already had to make his peace with what their relationship had morphed into. Guilty or not, he surrendered, pushing out of his own clothes quickly, until he was naked before her, his arousal straining, hard and desperate, and her eyes, so round in her delicate face, fell to it, to him, staring as though she’d never seen a man before.
‘Alex,’ she moaned, lifting her hands, reaching for him, her cheeks pink, her lips swollen from his kisses. ‘Please.’
But right as he was about to succumb, to give them both what they wanted, reality burst into his brain, well-worn habits drawing him to a stop. ‘I don’t have any protection,’ he hissed, cursing himself for not bringing his wallet. Her cheeks grew pinker.
‘It’s okay,’ she mumbled, so his heart slammed into his ribs and he had to stay very still to stop from immediately lowering himself to her and taking her, claiming her, as he’d wanted to do ever since she walked into his office. ‘Remember, I’m on the pill,’ she said. ‘And I’m clean. I’ve been tested.’
‘Me too,’ he said with relief, sinking to his knees, between her legs, staring at her as though she were some kind of magical sea creature, as though this were a dream. And perhaps it was. It felt far more likely that she’d change her mind or disappear into the ocean than it was they’d actually make love, and yet she didn’t make a single move to leave.
She reached for him and this time he dropped lower, so her hands curved around his arms, drawing her to him, and he kissed her again—it felt like coming home.
He couldn’t stop.
His mouth ravaged hers and she whimpered, and he felt strong and powerful and terrifyingly vulnerable, brought to his knees by the strength of his need for her. She lifted her legs and wrapped them around his waist, holding him close, and though he wanted to pull back, to slow down, he couldn’t. His body was independent of him, acting of its own volition, seeking hers, so he drove into her without even realising it, only her cry and his own guttural groan heralded his intrusion.
‘God, Alex,’ she called his name into the sky; he loved the way it sounded on her lips, heavy with passion. Her nails dragged down his back, scoring red marks, and she lifted her hips. ‘Don’t stop.’
‘I’m not going to,’ he promised, moving inside of her, feeling her tightness, the muscles gripping him as he moved, his body racked by pleasure, his needs almost overwhelming him, so he had to slow down, even when he felt as though a rhythm had overcome him. He pushed up and watched her, watched as he moved and she reacted, understood what she loved, where she was most sensitive and he teased her there, pulling out and hovering a moment before taking her again, driving her wild, to the point of incandescence, and then she was calling his name with more urgency and he was inside of her, feeling her muscles squeeze and release, losing her control completely as he swallowed her euphoric cries into his mouth, kissing her until her breath had calmed. Then, he began to move all over again, barely giving her time to recover, stoking her to new heights of desperate need, and this time, when she fell apart, he was right with her, his own release overcoming him, so he wrapped his arm around her and held her close as his body was racked with pleasure and release, and he was aware only of the sound of their breathing, of the pleasure that had exploded around them, making him feel strangely, perfectly at peace, for the first time in a long time.
His weight on her body was its own aphrodisiac. She lay beneath him, conscious of everything in that moment. Of the warmth of the sun, the lapping of the waves, the grit of the ancient sand beneath her, the hair on his chest, the strength of his frame, the heat of his skin, the hawing of his breath, the movement of his chest, everything. She lay perfectly still, as though it was somehow vital to feel this and relish it, to commit it to memory, to savour these feelings. As though she was aware they were hers only for a finite time. As though she knew regret would follow.
And perhaps it would, but in that moment she could only be glad, beyond words, because it felt to Tessa as though Alex had woken up an important part of her, as though he’d brought some of her back to life again.
Mortifyingly, tears dampened her eyes and she blinked furiously to clear them, but too late.
He pushed up, his body stiffening. ‘Theresa?’ The way he said her name made her chest heave. She bit down on her lower lip. Emotions deluged her—which was exactly what she wanted to prevent from happening.
‘Yes?’ She forced an overbright smile to her face, but it was belied by the salty tears filling her eyes.
‘Are you okay?’
Surprised, she dragged her gaze to his face, to his grim lips, and shook her head, pressing a hand to his chest.
‘I wasn’t gentle,’ he muttered. ‘I couldn’t... I was—’
‘No, God, no, Alex. That was—’ She bit harder into her lip. ‘Honestly, perfect,’ she mumbled, heat filling her cheeks as he jerked inside of her. But concern had him moving, rolling away and then standing, his back ramrod straight as he took a step towards the beach, his back to her, his attention focused on the distant horizon. Impatient with herself and desperate for him to understand, she stood, moving quickly to his side. He didn’t look at her, but she could see from the set of his face that dark emotions coursed through him.
She reached for his shoulder, squeezing his bicep, so he turned to face her, his eyes loaded with self-loathing.
‘Alex, I wanted that to happen.’
A muscle jerked in his jaw, as he lifted a thumb to her cheek, wiping away the tear there. ‘Did you?’
‘I’m not crying because I regret it.’ Though I’m sure I will. ‘I’m crying because it was so, so good and in the course of my marriage I honestly came to believe I didn’t have a sexual bone in my body. I thought what we shared all those years ago was some kind of illusion. I didn’t know...’ She shook her head. ‘The way you just made me feel, the way I feel now, truly, I have no words to express what this is like. I’m just... I’ve spent so long wondering if this part of me is dead, and now I know it’s not. There’s nothing wrong with me.’
His eyes bored into hers, his emotions unreadable. ‘No, agape.’His voice was gruff. ‘There is nothing wrong with you.’
