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Her body responded in the only way it could—openly—welcoming his kiss as drought-stricken land welcomed the rain. His kiss gave her heat and life. His kiss rocked her soul. And his kiss promised so much more. She felt her breasts firm and peak, she felt her bones melt, and she knew she was lost.
‘I should take you home,’ he said, his slight stubble grazing hers, his breathing sounding surprisingly ragged and edgy before his mouth found hers once more.
Boldness shaped her response. Boldness and a power driven by her need and the knowledge that it was reciprocated.
She edged her face to one side. ‘Don’t we have some unfinished business to take care of first?’
‘You’ll have your cheque first thing in the morning. I’ll take care of it personally.’
She felt rather than saw the hardening of his features, the grim line of his mouth, and knew he’d misunderstood. But she refused to take offence—not when the last thing she wanted to do was start an argument between them. Not when she had a completely different purpose in mind.
She raised an arm and drew the tips of the fingers of one hand down the side of his face, circling the outer line of his ear. He swallowed then, and she followed the movement with her fingers, down the strong column of his neck, right to where it disappeared into the fine cotton of his shirt.
He looked at her quizzically, his eyes narrowing as the flat of her hand continued to stroke purposefully over his chest, resting provocatively, teasingly, over the firm nub of one nipple.
‘I have a confession to make,’ she said, hoping to God that now she’d finally plucked up the courage to say what she wanted she wasn’t about to make a total fool of herself.
‘When I referred to “unfinished business”, I wasn’t talking about the money.’
CHAPTER FIVE
AS CONFESSIONS went it hadn’t been particularly guilt-laden, but that didn’t seem to worry Loukas in the least. Quite the contrary. His eyes had blazed with passion and heat in response to her words, and within half an hour he was sliding open and ushering her through the doors that led onto the balcony of his Malibu Beach house.
They stood side by side on the timber deck, staring out over the dark ocean and watching the frosted edge of the sea swoosh rhythmically in and out along the shore. The gentle summer night breeze tugged at the ends of her hair and she relished the tang of the salty sea air and tried to relax.
But she’d had thirty minutes in his car to anticipate what was to come. Thirty minutes to congratulate herself for finally being brave enough to travel a road she’d been too scared to travel in years.
Thirty minutes to panic.
What if she’d been wrong and he wasn’t the man she was so desperate for him to be? And what if Grace’s cold, hard words had been right? She’d never forgive herself if he changed his mind about making the donation because of what she was underneath her clothes.
Her heartbeat jumped up a gear. Suddenly this wasn’t just about her own feelings. She couldn’t let him know about the marks on her skin—not if it imperilled the foundation.
He interrupted her thoughts without saying a word, bringing her shoulders around to face him as he leaned against the balustrade, running his hands down her arms, taking her hands in his.
She looked up, meeting his gaze with relief. At least for now rejection was the last thing she saw in his eyes. The low light washing out over them from the living room lamps was sufficient for her to read their brown depths, and without a doubt what they told her was that he wanted her. And even in her inexperience she could tell instinctively that his want had nothing in common with the teenage testosterone-crazed mistake called Garry that marked her first sexual encounter, or even with the intense heat that had marked her first meeting with Loukas at the Gala. This time his need was accompanied by a rich bloom of tenderness that warmed her from the inside out.
And she knew in that instant that falling in love with this man wasn’t just a danger. It was a fact. And if he rejected her now for any reason…
She trembled as the fear rippled through her. This time there was more at stake than merely trampling on her self-worth. There was even more at stake than the financial security of the foundation. This time it could be her heart that was battered.
