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Phoebe watched from the water, fascinated by the mechanism, and he studied her. The inevitability of their coming together was in every movement they made. Beneath the water, his body sought hers, and hers his, so they came close to one another, their feet moving in unison to remain afloat. He wanted her, and he no longer doubted that he would have her. But delaying the inevitable was its own form of pleasurable torture, and a reassuring demonstration of control. Bringing himself to the edge of his patience then pulling back showed that he didn’t act purely as his libido required.
“I have a surprise for you.”
“Oh?”
Her thoughts were written all over her face, so he laughed softly, to cover how damned tempted he was.
“Not that.”
Heat flushed her cheeks and something lurched deep in the center of his being.
“I don’t know what you mean,” she lied, badly.
“Then let me show you.” He moved closer, eyes teasing hers as he kissed her lightly on the tip of her nose. “Race you to the boat.”
Chapter 9
PHOEBE’S HEAD WAS SPINNING. The afternoon had been a complete whirlwind. From the moment they’d stepped onboard the yacht, the crew had swung into action, leading Phoebe to her room where a stylist was waiting with a selection of couture gowns, shoes and bags. Phoebe conducted a mini-fashion show, conscious the entire time of the purple mark on her breast, and how it had gotten there. She chose a deep red gown in the end, totally unlike anything she’d ever worn before, with simple satin spaghetti straps, and a vee neck at the front. It clung to her like a second skin, falling like water, the silky fabric making it impossible to wear a bra, so her nipples tingled against the dress as she moved. It fell to her ankles, cut on the bias, emphasizing the gentle swell of her hips, and she teamed the dress with a pair of black espadrilles, that were both elegant and comfortable. A small black clutch would carry her essentials.
After she was dressed, the stylist set to work arranging her hair, blow drying it in large, voluptuous curls until it fell down her back in tumbling waves. Her makeup was modest, just a dash of lipstick and mascara to emphasize her features, per Phoebe’s request.
She stood transformed, and yet she still had no idea where they were going.
When she stepped into the living room, Anastasios was fixing them drinks—a mineral water for Phoebe and a scotch for himself, and the look he gave her made her skin sizzle all over.
He stopped what he was doing, staring at her slowly, possessively, his eyes travelling from her glossy hair to her breasts, to her hips and all the way down to her feet, then back, his head shaking slowly.
“You are stunning.”
She smiled, the red lipstick that had been artfully applied making her teeth seem extra white.
“Thank you.”
He reached into his pocket and removed a long, velvet box. “I have a little something extra.”
“Oh?” Her heart went into dangerous territory, racing faster and faster.
He crooked his finger in the air, indicating for her to move towards him, and she did so, a little unsteadily, crossing the floor and standing close enough to feel warmth emanating off him in waves.
Her breath was audible as he unclasped the box and turned it to face her, revealing a necklace made of pure diamonds. She gasped, because she couldn’t imagine ever seeing something like this in real life, let alone being asked to wear it.
Eyes huge, she looked up at him.
“What is this?”
His smile was slightly mocking. “A gift.”
Her heart twisted, and she shook her head a little. “It’s beautiful.”
“I thought you’d like it.”
“I do,” she frowned. “But it’s too much. I can’t accept it.”
He stilled, lifting the necklace to her neck. “Are you sure?”
“Positive,” her voice softened with a hint of ambivalence, so he lifted it into place, reaching behind her to clasp it together. On her person, it hung perfectly around the base of her throat, each diamond sparkling and throwing a thousand little light fireworks across the room.
“It looks perfect on you.”
