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He didn’t give her time to protest. He kissed her as he’d been wanting to kiss her ever since he’d entered the gallery and seen her again. With one hand behind her head, he took possession of her lips, rubbing his mouth back and forward until the sweet scent of her breath showed her mouth was open and vulnerable.
To begin with, she tried to retain some control by bracing herself with a hand on the car at either side of him. But when he deepened the kiss, pushing his tongue deep into her mouth, she couldn’t hold out any longer. With a little moan of acquiescence, she gave in. She sank against him, and he was sure she must be able to feel his erection pressing against her belly.
It was heaven and it was hell: heaven, because he wanted her so badly; hell, because, however eager she might be, he couldn’t take her here in the street. Yet the urge to push her skirt up to her hips and bury himself in her soft heat was compelling, and, when she put a hand between them to stroke his throbbing arousal, he uttered an anguished groan.
‘Theos,’ he choked, aware that, despite the fairly explicit images he’d entertained himself with earlier, nothing had prepared him for this reality. It was just as well she was leaning against him, he thought. Her fingers were driving him insane.
But that was just part of it. The feel of her, the taste of her, the sensual delight in feeling her nipples peaking against his chest. She was so fiery, so responsive. All he could think about was getting naked with her, flesh against flesh, skin against skin.
That wasn’t going to happen. No matter how adventurous she was out here, there was always the knowledge of the occasional passer-by to rescue her should it be necessary. Inviting her to accompany him back to an hotel room, however, was another matter entirely.
Yet once again it was Jane who amazed him. ‘Let’s go back inside,’ she invited breathlessly. ‘It’s time I closed the gallery and Olga’s got a half-decent sofa in her office…’
That had been the start of their affair, recalled Demetri grimly. And, despite her impulsive behaviour, he’d soon discovered that Jane had only slept with one other man. She was still hopelessly naïve, but hopelessly eager, deliciously inexperienced. She’d never had a true orgasm before, she’d confessed. Until then she’d believed that having sex was vastly overrated.
He’d soon corrected that error, he remembered a little smugly. The first time they’d made love—the first time he’d thrust into her hot, tight sheath—he’d had to silence her cries with his mouth. It had been one hell of an experience for both of them and he hadn’t been able to wait before seeing her again.
Of course, there’d been obstacles. Both her mother and his hadn’t approved. His own mother had been appalled when he’d told her he was falling in love with an English girl, and Jane’s mother had never trusted him from the start.
But they’d overcome all objections, and, although he’d known Jane had been bewildered at the speed with which he’d made her his wife, she’d been too much in love with him to care. They’d honeymooned in the Caribbean, he reminisced painfully; long days and even longer nights on their own island, where all they’d done was eat, swim and make love. There hadn’t been a lot of sleeping, he recalled, the memory as sharp and raw as ever. Dear God, how he’d loved her. He caught a breath. How he loved her still.
‘Are you all right, Demetri?’
It was his father who spoke and Demetri realised he’d been staring out into the darkness beyond his windows for heaven knew how long. He’d been so lost in thought he’d forgotten that his father was waiting for him to make some response.
‘I’m sorry,’ he said, turning from the windows and pouring himself another drink. He needed the fortification, he thought, if he was going to get through this. ‘I was just thinking, that’s all.’
‘About Jane?’
Demetri gazed at the older man with exasperated eyes. ‘Can’t I think about anything else?’
‘I don’t know. Can you?’
Demetri scowled. ‘Leave it, Pa. If we go on with this, we’re going to have words, and I don’t want that.’
‘Why? Because you think I can’t be told the truth?’ His father stared at him. ‘Be honest, Demetri, why did you agree to divorce Jane and marry Ariadne? Was it only because you thought I was so desperate for a grandchild?’
Demetri sighed. ‘Pa—’
‘Answer me, dammit!’
‘All right.’ Demetri blew out a weary breath. ‘All right. Maybe that was—a factor.’
‘Your mother told you that, I suppose. Just as she told me that you and Ariadne had fallen in love, and Stefan that I would never recognise any child he and Phillippe might have as my own flesh and blood.’
