Читать книгу Won by the Wealthy Greek - Кэтти Уильямс, Cathy Williams - Страница 15

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHARLOTTE had no intention of skulking in the shadows outside her own villa. She could hear Iannis and Marianna talking on the terrace and decided to brazen it out.

‘Good evening, Iannis,’ she said, strolling casually towards him.

He tensed as he swung around to view her through narrowed eyes.

‘Where have you been?’ Marianna exclaimed.

‘I trust you caught the last rays of the sun?’ Iannis murmured sardonically.

Charlotte felt her face redden. ‘I stayed longer than I intended to down on the beach…and now I need to take a shower, if you will excuse me.’

‘Well, thank goodness you have returned safely,’ Marianna said. ‘I must be going, too—’

‘Oh, no,’ Charlotte exclaimed, stopping dead in her tracks. ‘You don’t have to rush off.’

‘It is getting late,’ Marianna pointed out, looking Charlotte up and down with concern.

‘Perhaps Iannis will walk with you?’ Charlotte suggested hopefully.

‘It would be my pleasure,’ he agreed.

As Iannis and Marianna walked away from the villa together Charlotte felt the tension drain out of her. She’d had more than enough excitement for one evening.

But less than half an hour later Iannis was back.

‘Forgive me,’ he murmured, standing beneath the light on the porch as she opened the door. ‘There is something I forgot.’

‘Oh?’ Charlotte said faintly, backing up as he came towards her. ‘Can I find it for you?’

‘I have already found it,’ he said, closing the front door softly behind him.

‘I don’t understand…’ Charlotte felt her heart lurch as she watched a muscle work in his jaw, and then very slowly he eased away from the door.

‘Do you understand this, pedhaki mou?’ he murmured, reaching out for her.

Even after their closeness on the beach, coming from his lips the endearment was so unexpected Charlotte’s brow pleated fleetingly in bemusement. She had heard the Greek women crooning ‘little one’ to their children, but hearing it now from Iannis thrilled her—made her doubts seem foolish, made her feel safe, she realised as he dragged away the last barrier between them.

Iannis felt his senses surge to a level that could no longer be contained. Revenge—for all she had written about him, for her deception—would be sheer delight, he mused as he brushed his lips experimentally against Charlotte’s mouth and felt her soften. It would be the most intense erotic experience of his life. And she would enjoy it too. He’d make sure of that. And then she could ask herself where it had all gone wrong. He would fit a lifetime of pleasure into the few short hours she had left on the island—it would be some small compensation for what she had done.

He pulled back and allowed his gaze to rove over her. She was pulsing with desire, her lips already swollen and pink—as the rest of her would be before long. He took his time drawing her back into his arms, inch by lingering inch, relishing the sight of her eyes darkening and her nipples hardening until surely they must give her pain.

When a woman as beautiful as Charlotte Clare tried her hand at betrayal she must expect the penalty to be thoroughly and exhaustively exacted, Iannis mused, staring down at her. The only way he could think of to still his smile of victory was by dipping his head to part her lips with his tongue. She welcomed his possession so urgently he exulted. Sex between them was going to be even better than he had envisaged.

His hands were as firm as she had longed for them to be and her soft moans were becoming more urgent. She was all desire, all hot with longing, and with every other thought erased from her mind. This was what she needed, what she wanted—and Iannis wanted her, which made it complete.

‘Do you want me?’ Iannis murmured, holding her away from him to level a burning stare on her face. ‘Is this what you want, Charlotte? Tell me,’ he insisted harshly. ‘Let me hear you say it,’ he demanded fiercely.

‘If you want me to beg you will be disappointed,’ she warned, her eyes flashing fire. But even as she defied him Charlotte knew it was everything she had ever dreamed of and more. She gave a gasp of relief as he dragged her against him.

‘But you will beg,’ Iannis promised, running his hands lightly down her arms so that she trembled uncontrollably. ‘I’ll make sure of it.’

‘We meet as equals, Iannis,’ Charlotte gasped as he swung her off her feet and into his arms, ‘or not at all.’

‘You are in no position to make conditions,’ he pointed out, moving deeper into the villa. ‘You said something about taking a shower…?’

His arrogance was astounding—but she was seduced by the effect it had on her, Charlotte realised as Iannis settled her into his arms.

Shouldering open the bathroom door, he set her down on the floor and then, strolling over to the shower, switched it on. ‘Take your clothes off, Charlotte,’ he instructed, turning to her, ‘and make it slow.’

Charlotte felt as if she was melting into a pool of desire. Her lips still stung from his possession, and her body, where his hands had touched, was throbbing with awareness. She was swollen, moist and ready for his possession, but as she went to attack the buttons on his shirt he seized her wrists.

‘Not so fast,’ he whispered harshly against her ear. ‘I want to see you naked first.’

Charlotte could hear her rapid breathing, noisy above the steady swish of the shower, and see Iannis clearly reflected in the mirror above the bath. His eyes were narrowed, his gaze predatory. Relaxing, yielding, easing into his grip, she waited, then tore her hands out of his grasp when he was least expecting it.

‘I said equal terms or not at all,’ she warned, raising one brow in furious challenge as she stared at him.

Iannis had to admit to a rush of pleasure—and not for the reason he had expected. She seemed so easy, so compliant, yet had already shown herself to be a formidable adversary—and in more ways than one, he remembered, tensing at the memory. But at least his conscience was clear. She was his equal in passion. She knew what she was doing. And so did he.

This time Iannis made no complaint when Charlotte raised her arms to undo his shirt. He made it easy for her to slip the tiny horn buttons free, and then offered his wrists so that she could release the buttons on his cuffs. Moving his arms away from his sides, he allowed her to ease the shirt from his trousers and had to stop himself smiling when she was forced to stand on tiptoes to slip it from his shoulders. As she did her breasts pressed against his naked chest, and even through her top he could feel the insistent thrust of her hardened nipples.

She heard the fast breath he sucked in and looked up in satisfaction. ‘Maybe you will be the one who has to beg,’ she said, raising her eyebrows, gently mocking him.

‘Hussy,’ Iannis murmured with pleasure as she went on about her task. He eased onto one hip and saw her glance stray to the buckle on his trousers. ‘Do you want some help?’ he offered huskily.

‘I think I’ll manage,’ Charlotte answered, keeping steady eye contact as she loosened the soft kidskin belt from its silver tine.

Her voice was contained, but her eyes, her breathing, everything about her told him different, Iannis thought, tensing as very slowly Charlotte began lowering the zip on his trousers. He had never allowed a woman to take charge before—and never felt so turned on before. Charlotte had turned the tables on him in a way he could never have anticipated. She eased the trousers down over his hips and he stepped out of them. As she dipped down to help him he saw her hair still tangled from the sea. It made her look so vulnerable, so terribly fragile.

Fragile, but dangerously strong-willed. He remembered just in time what she had done. It was that strength he was pitting himself against now, not her vulnerability.

He groaned, all rational thought obliterated as she slipped the fingers of each hand beneath the elastic of his briefs. It cut off his train of thought as effectively as if she had taken him in her mouth. But it felt great. She felt great, he realised, easing into the sensation.

Charlotte swallowed hard as she brought the black silk briefs down over Iannis’s lean hips. She had never seen a man so aroused before. She had never wanted a man like this before, she realised, but for Iannis she would do anything. Sinking slowly to her knees in front of him, she took him in her mouth.

Iannis exhaled a ragged sigh. The touch of her lips and tongue was tentative to begin with, but as she grew in confidence she became more certain and more extreme. The sensation was building in him so fast it was as if he was a virgin, with no notion of control. He was suddenly suffused with the desire to do as much for her, and more—and that feeling was growing with every thought-stealing stroke of her tongue.

He moaned softly, throwing his head back as she closed her lips around him, pressing him firmly against the roof of her mouth as she began to suck. Soon he wouldn’t be able to stop himself, Iannis realised as his hips flexed convulsively. She was a Siren, a water sprite. She had bewitched him, Iannis Kiriakos, to whom control was everything—in every area of his life.

‘Stop,’ he managed huskily. ‘Stop, Charlotte! Stop now!’

She ignored him.

When was the last time anyone had disobeyed him? Could he recall a single incident? Much as he wanted her to continue, catching sight of Charlotte’s tangled, salt-clogged hair, Iannis knew his need to pleasure her was greater. She was the most dangerous and the most infuriating woman he had ever known. But she drew other feelings from him too, and it was these that made him reach down and bring her to her feet.

‘Did I do something wrong?’

Wilful, strong, and yet so very fragile, Iannis thought as he drew her into his arms. ‘No,’ he admitted, wishing things could be different between them, ‘you did nothing wrong. You did everything right.’

Charlotte gazed up, wanting to believe him. ‘So, why—?’

He rested one finger over her swollen lips, making a sound he might have made to a child. But then he replaced that finger with his lips and all Charlotte’s concerns dissolved into sensation. His lips were firm and insistent, and he teased the seam of her lips apart with lazy passes of his tongue, then took her, plunging deeply and slowly into the moist darkness of her mouth.

Her hips moved convulsively to provide a warm cradle for his erection, and the touch of his naked body against every inch of her torso, even through the thickness of her clothes, was all it took to tip her over the edge so that she cried out in surprise as the violent spasms claimed her.

Iannis supported her, bearing her weight when her legs gave way and lifting her off the ground to deepen his kiss for the duration of her climax.

‘You greedy girl,’ he murmured softly when it was all over. ‘Did I give you permission for that?’

His voice was low and teasing, and he felt so strong, so wonderful against her. She never wanted him to let her go, never wanted the moment to end. And the way he was looking at her—his gaze penetrating, warm and amused—she wanted that look to last for ever. ‘I’m sorry, I—’

He cut her off with his finger again and made the same soft sound as he let her go. ‘Where’s the shampoo?’ he said, looking around.

‘Shampoo?’ Charlotte mumbled, still mesmerised, still lost in the aftermath of sensation.

‘The shampoo,’ Iannis repeated. ‘In here?’ he enquired, opening a cupboard on the wall.

Charlotte managed to whisper, ‘Yes,’ her gaze following Iannis, drinking him in, relishing the sight of him.

‘Conditioner?’

‘Conditioner?’ A croak seemed to emerge from her throat of its own accord.

‘Yes—you know,’ Iannis said wryly. He ruffled his own hair, then, seeing the state she was in—how reluctant to emerge from the erotic trance into which he had placed her—he raised his shoulders in a shrug and shook his head.

‘Shower,’ she managed to whisper.

Iannis checked, and then came back to her.

‘I hope you have a good water tank or we’ll be taking a cold shower,’ he observed dryly.

The water was still running, Charlotte realised, coming to. ‘Oh, no!’

‘No matter,’ Iannis said. ‘We have more than enough heat between us, and to spare. Come,’ he said, beckoning to her. ‘Come to me, Charlotte.’

Charlotte raised her arms for him and Iannis eased her top over her head. The old swimming costume felt tight across her straining breasts. She had never seen her nipples so erect.

‘Magnificent,’ Iannis remarked, following her gaze. With both his hands he very lightly cupped her breasts, and with an even lighter touch scraped his thumbnails very slowly around the base of the insistent peaks before taking them in a firm grip through the worn fabric and tugging on them.

Charlotte gasped and threw back her head as the pleasure lapped over her, but Iannis removed his hands immediately.

‘Not again,’ he warned. ‘I won’t allow you to lose control again.’

As he dropped a kiss on her shoulder Charlotte felt his beard-roughened face scrape against her tender neck and shuddered with delight. Then she felt him nudging her a little, and realised that he had already loosened her shorts and pushed them down over the swell of her hips.

Tilting her chin up, he made her look at him. Very lightly he touched her lips with his tongue… teasing her, Charlotte realised, when he stopped and held her away from him. It made her long all the more to press against him, to feel his erection pressed hard against the cushion of her belly.

Were her eyes as dark as his? They seemed to control her without the need for words. She lost herself willingly in the deep black pools of light, groaning in response when he slipped the straps of her costume down from her shoulders and then, with torturous delay, brought it down inch by lingering inch over her sensitised body.

It was like unpeeling the most delicious, the most succulent fruit, Iannis mused, freeing Charlotte from the shabby costume. Her shoulders were sun-kissed and her arms felt like silk. And her breasts—He stopped, unwilling to draw the costume lower until he had feasted his eyes on them. They were full and proud, the nipples tip-tilted in a way he had rarely seen. They seemed to challenge him in a way he had never experienced before. Revenge was sweet, indeed, he conceded, feeling his senses soar as he dipped his head to kiss her again. But as he deepened the kiss, making it slow and languorous, he knew his lust for revenge had subsided. The urge to bring her pleasure had overtaken everything else.

‘Come,’ he murmured, ‘it is time for me to serve you now.’

Was this what love felt like? Charlotte wondered. Iannis was a magical lover—she didn’t want to think beyond that; she only wanted him to take her on an erotic journey where there were no secrets, no holding back.

He led her under the shower and washed her hair, and when he had finished with that he took the sponge and gently washed every inch of her body.

‘Can I wash you now?’ Charlotte said when he had finished.

He looked at her, saw how her eyelashes were long and thick and clogged with water. The look she was giving him was so open—cunningly contrived to put him off guard? But he didn’t want to believe that. He wanted one night—one night of love before he must confront the reality of her betrayal. Was that so much to ask? Iannis wondered, feeling his senses soar as he stared into her eyes.

‘Soon,’ he murmured, kissing Charlotte’s eyelids gently when she begged him again.

But she took the sponge from his hand and refused to give it back to him. ‘I won’t be denied.’

‘I can see that,’ he murmured, dropping a kiss on her neck.

He had a body the mythical gods would have envied, Charlotte mused as she lavished care over every toned, tanned inch. Iannis possessed a frame of heroic proportions; his muscles were hard and clearly defined. Yet he wasn’t over-built, and nor was he weatherbeaten, as she might have supposed him to be due to his work. He was perfectly proportioned, deliciously bronzed, and with just enough body hair to draw attention to his masculinity without concealing it…

‘Seen enough?’

She looked up as he growled softly.

‘I’m not sure I will ever see enough,’ she admitted, wielding the sponge with growing confidence.

He put his arms around her, keeping her still. ‘I think we’d better stop now,’ he murmured, and she felt his warm breath on her head.

‘Are you sure?’ Charlotte whispered, staring up at him.

‘Quite sure,’ Iannis confirmed, taking the sponge out of her hand. ‘Now, shall I have to seduce you all over again?’ he suggested, kissing the top of her head.

‘Oh, I think so,’ Charlotte murmured happily, snuggling into him.

He wrapped her from head to foot in towels so that she could hardly move, and then swept her into his arms and carried her through to the bedroom. Laying her down on the soft pile of cushions, Iannis stretched out next to her. ‘Shall I unwrap you?’ he suggested wickedly, running one hand very lightly and tantalisingly down the length of her towel-covered form.

Please, Charlotte thought, seeing his eyes were bright with humour. ‘Am I a gift?’ she challenged provocatively.

Iannis frowned briefly—just a shadow, then it passed. But that look set a doubt in Charlotte’s mind. She sensed he had pulled away from her in some way she couldn’t grasp. But then he began kissing her, and her senses took over, and nothing mattered other than how much she wanted him, how much he had come to mean to her—however dangerous that was—and how soon she had to leave…

‘Crying?’ Iannis murmured, pulling away to stare into her face. ‘What’s this, Charlotte?’

Her name sounded so soft and tender on his lips—she should have been called something harsh-sounding to reflect her duplicity, Charlotte thought, stemming her tears by sheer force of will. At that moment she wished she had never embarked upon the article, never heard of Iskos, never visited the island—but then she would never have met Iannis, she realised, gazing up at him in confusion.

‘Make love to me, Iannis,’ she whispered. ‘Make love to me so that I forget everything.’

Iannis felt himself sucked deep into a vortex of emotion which he didn’t care to analyse. He only knew that he wanted to kiss all the tears from her cheeks and make her smile again. They tasted salty on his tongue, and the scent of a wildflower rocked his senses as he buried his face into her soft neck and kissed her there. As she moved beneath him and her arms wound around his neck, he returned to kiss her mouth, deepening the kiss until he thought he must surely taste her soul.

Charlotte gave herself completely, yielding to sensation, knowing she was in the hands of a master, trusting and loving and giving until all the doubts and questions in her mind were obliterated in a constant stream of sensation.

Iannis kept on kissing her until she was all hunger, all passion, all need, and then he brought her beneath him, using one strong hand to ease her buttocks apart while he lodged a powerful thigh between her legs. He brought her legs up and over his shoulders until she was completely open, completely his. And even then he made her wait, allowing just a whisper of his erection to tantalise her senses, drawing it slowly and steadily down between her legs.

When she begged him he only shook his head in stern refusal, dropping kisses on her mouth to still her cries. But Charlotte called his name until finally he submitted to her will and allowed the tip to catch inside her. When he pulled away again she railed at him, not caring what he must think of her as she berated him with words she hardly recognised.

‘What is it you want Charlotte?’ Iannis demanded softly, cruelly repeating the exercise, holding her with a firm hand when she attempted to capture him. ‘You must wait…you must learn control,’ he husked in her ear. ‘You proved yourself ignorant in the ways of love before, and now you must be taught. You will thank me for teaching you restraint…’

‘No. I. Won’t!’ Charlotte managed hoarsely. ‘I don’t have time to learn!’

He laughed, a short and very masculine laugh. ‘We will make time,’ he promised, and, making another tantalising pass, he rested inside her a moment longer.

‘Don’t tease me,’ Charlotte warned in a husky gasp. ‘I can’t bear it, Iannis.’

‘I’m sure you’ll be an admirable student.’

‘Ah—’ She let out a long, ragged sigh as he sank deep within her, taking possession of her completely and stretching her beyond anything she would have imagined possible. The feeling was so far beyond any pleasure she had known that Charlotte couldn’t move, couldn’t participate, couldn’t urge him on as she had intended. Instead she could only lie beneath him motionless, and let him take her with firm, deep strokes until he had worked her all the way up the bed to the wall. She only surfaced briefly when with a harsh, accepting laugh Iannis was forced to drag her back down the bed to begin again.

‘Don’t…don’t stop,’ Charlotte begged weakly, hardly conscious of what was happening to her, only that she had never been suspended so high or for so long on such an incredible plateau of sensation.

‘Don’t worry, agape mou, I have no intention of stopping —not until this night is over,’ he added under his breath.

His last comment drove through the fog in Charlotte’s mind, and, focusing, she saw something hard glittering behind his eyes. ‘What do you mean?’

‘Don’t talk,’ Iannis commanded, cutting across her. ‘Just feel.’

Charlotte succumbed to the temptation without a fight. She had been starved too long to refuse. And Iannis made love to her in a way that made her feel strong, confident.

‘I want to ride you,’ she said at last, capturing him between her thighs.

‘Who am I to refuse?’ Iannis murmured, his hard mouth curving in a smile of contentment as he brought her on top of him.

But as their gazes clashed something flared between them, a warning that the battle wasn’t over—it had only just begun.