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Theós, was he better off just getting the sex out of the way so they could breathe for a time without it clouding every thought?
He pushed the boulder of craving away. ‘Believe it or not, I’d like to discuss you.’
Those alluring eyes grew wider. ‘M-me?’
‘No need to look so alarmed,glikia mou. It’s just a conversation. Which we will have after you get out of that insultingly boring get-up.’
She made a noise that sounded very much like a snort of disbelief, dragging further humour to the surface.
As she sailed to the twin dressing room where he’d had her things relocated with her pert little nose in the air, Zeph wandered to the balcony.
He’d noted how his occasional smile had drawn surprise from his crew. How his board members, even though every one of them deserved his ire for the way they’d treated Imogen, had all jumped at his appearance.
Was he a humourless bastard on top of everything else? Was that part of the reason Imogen tried to hold him at arm’s length?
With a grunt he pushedthattoo away.
Imogen had already given away more than he knew she’d intended to. He just needed to be patient and not push her too far too soon. What he wanted would come to him soon enough. Even if the torture of it might feel unbearable at times.
Like this morning...
He clenched his belly against the punch of hunger and turned around.
And almost swallowed his tongue when she walked out of the dressing room wearing a gold bikini moulded onto her skin.
He’d seen how beautiful she was this morning when she’d writhed beneath him. But as he gained some distance now, taking in the whole package, Zeph’s breath was knocked clean out of his lungs by his wife’s breathtaking beauty.
Theós, I’m never going to let her go.
He shook himself free of that visceral declaration that lit up in him. Shook himself free of the unnerving tenacity of it. He’d laid out his terms. She’d agreed to them.
It might not even come to that. He might be cured of this...needlong before then.
He ignored the sceptical voice that trailed in his head as he crossed the room to her. He sensed her nervousness as she walked beside him to the open aft lounging area past the sprawling swimming pool on Deck Two.
Choosing twin loungers, he dropped into one and watched her set her back down and generally fidget while avoiding his gaze.
‘Relax, Imogen.’
‘Easier said than done,’ she returned, her full mouth set into a displeased line.
‘When was the last time you had a holiday?’
She shrugged. ‘I don’t recall.’
‘You don’t recall? I’m the one with the memory issues. If you don’t recall then this one is long overdue.’
Now, she glanced his way, and that jumpiness in his belly lessened. ‘You should talk. I have it on good authority from your PA that you’d never taken a vacation in almost a decade before you...went missing.’
When he raised his eyebrows at her, she elaborated.
‘It was part of trying to find you. Spyros has been your assistant for eight years. He said the only time you used the yacht or any of your homes around the world was if you were attending a business meeting or hosting whatever fundraising gala you were patron of. He also said you have a pathological dislike of hotel rooms, hence the insane amount of properties you own.’
‘Is one of those in Lake Como?’ he asked without any clear idea why the location slipped from his lips.
She nodded, her eyes widening on his. ‘Yes. Does it ring a bell?’ she asked, her voice pitched with expectation. Or was it alarm?
He slotted that information away as he shrugged. ‘I’m not sure. It just jumped into my head.’
