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Ofcourseit was going to feel amazing. Everyone knew there was nothing as effective as delayed gratification. Didn’t he enjoy his own hard-earned wealth more than those of his contemporaries who had inherited theirs, because he’d known real hunger and real poverty? And so it was with Mia. He’d waited a long time for this. Again, he frowned. Of course he hadn’t actuallywaited—for that would imply something had been missing from his life. Or that he’d intended for this to happen—which, of course, he hadn’t. It had happened by chance—it wasn’t some far-fetched concept of destiny, because there was no such thing. Just as there was no such thing as love, or happy families, or a whole list of meaningless things which people wasted precious time trying to attain. What the hell was asoulmateanyway? he thought contemptuously.
A sense of resolution crept over him. All he needed to do was to have as much sex with her as possible, before she flew back to her very different life in England. His lips hardened. A glut of intimacy would make their entrance into society as newly-weds that bit more convincing and it would also give thisthinga chance to burn itself out.
And he wanted it to burn out.
He needed it to burn out.
He wanted her out of his head, once and for all.
Slipping his other hand between her thighs, he edged his thumb upwards to slide over her swollen bud and she wriggled her hips appreciatively.
‘Theo,’ she whispered, her breath growing more rapid as, delicately, he began to strum lightly against her satin heat.
‘What?’ he whispered as the smell of her sex filtered into the air and he breathed it in, like oxygen.
‘I don’t know,’ she said drowsily. ‘Just Theo.’
‘Do you want me?’
Still she didn’t open her eyes, but she opened her thighs. ‘What do you think?’
But Theo didn’t want to think. Not any more. He didn’t want to do anything except be inside her. Deep and hard. Hot steel against cool silk. He wanted to make her scream, over and over. He wanted to imprint himself on her body so indelibly that any man who came after him would be incapable of giving her this much pleasure. But as he sheathed himself with another condom, he found himself consumed by a sensation he didn’t recognise. A sensation which was powerful and all-consuming, which demanded definition.
It was delayed gratification, he reminded himself as he eased himself into her tight wetness.
Nothing more complicated than that.
CHAPTER EIGHT
MIAOPENEDHEREYES. Outside the enormous and unfamiliar window the sky was as bright as a field of cornflowers, and in the distance she could see the sapphire sea glinting in the morning sunshine. Still drowsy, she looked around. She was lying on a huge bed, completely naked and completely alone. Spotting the ruffled sheet, which must have fallen to the ground, she reached down and hauled it up over her aching breasts, using her free hand to push back the tangle of curls which was flopping wildly over her face.
Like an animal in the undergrowth, she grew very still, listening intently for sounds—the whoosh of a shower, perhaps, or the brushing of teeth. But there was no sight or sound of the man who had spent the night giving her the kind of pleasure she’d only ever dreamed about. She plumped up the soft pillows and leaned back against them. They’d had sex so many times, she’d lost actual count. At one point—it must have been past midnight because none of the servants were in the house—Theo had gone down to the kitchen to forage for food because the grumbling of her stomach had made her realise she hadn’t eaten a thing all day.
She had fallen on the Greek salad and delicious bread, the garlicky hummus and succulent slices of melon, and washed them down with some more of the lemon drink they’d had earlier. She remembered Theo watching her with a look of wry amusement on his face, telling her that it was rare to see a woman enjoying her food so much. She wasn’t sure if she liked the sound ofthat. And when they’d had their fill, he had lifted a spoon to trickle some thick dark honey into her belly button and then spent a frustrating age licking it out, so that by the time his sticky tongue had flickered between her thighs, Mia had orgasmed almost immediately.
Anxiously, she glanced down at the sheet, looking for any tell-tale signs of their sexual antics—as a maid she was used to rapidly assessing the state of bedlinen—but thankfully there was no leftover honey to make the servants gossip.
She blanched. The servants! What would they say when they discovered—as they invariably would if they were doing their jobs properly—that her bed hadn’t been slept in? Should she creep in there now and ruffle it up, the way they did in films?
Slumping back against the soft pillows, Mia expelled a huge sigh. None of this was supposed to have happened, and part of her despaired at how easily Theo had managed to manipulate her. For a start he had extracted her agreement that they would masquerade as a married couple, in order to please a dying man. How insane was that? And then he had seduced her. No. That would imply that what had happened had been one-sided, or that he’d had to persuade her, when the truth was that she had grabbed at the experience eagerly.
Had she really taken off her clothes in front of him, stubbornly refusing his help with her zip? Yes, she had. Had she really—this had been much later in the night, of course—taken him in her mouth and heard him moan with pleasure as she had swallowed the salty essence of him? Yes, that too. Again, Mia sighed. He had left her physically satisfied, but he’d left her feeling emotionally vulnerable too. Why else was she lying alone in this great big bed, feeling as if he had ripped away a layer of her skin, leaving her longing for the sort of things which were never going to happen? Come to think of it—wherewashe?
As if on cue, the door opened and Theo walked in, dressed in dark trousers and another pale silk shirt. His black hair looked damp and his skin gleamed like burnished gold. He looked full of energy and vigour, but his ebony eyes were cool and unfathomable.
‘Good morning.’
His voice was cool, too, as if nothing out of the usual had occurred last night, and Mia’s mushrooming vulnerability only increased, which probably explained why she didn’t return his civilised greeting and came out with a blunt and needy question instead. ‘Where have you been?’
He raised his eyebrows. ‘I went for a swim.’
‘Aswim?’ she questioned.
‘Fisika,’he agreed equably. ‘I always swim in the mornings. I think I already told you that? Then I came up here to shower and dress and you were still asleep and you looked...’ A pulse briefly flickered at his temple. ‘You looked so peaceful that I decided to go downstairs and do some work.’ His smile was brief. ‘I always find I’m more productive when the world is quiet.’
And he’d seen no reason to break his wretched routine? Mia wondered. No, of course he hadn’t. Because this was nothing new to him. Certainly nothing like the earth-shattering experience it had been for her. She was just another woman in his bed—who knew nothing about post-sex morning etiquette. Which was why he had absented himself. He had probably been sending out a very deliberate message and helpfully reminding her that this wasn’t arealrelationship. So stop behaving like a wimp and show him your strength.
‘I’m just wondering what happens now,’ she said.
