Читать книгу Modern Romance July 2015 Books 1-4 - Кэтти Уильямс, Maisey Yates, Cathy Williams - Страница 14
ОглавлениеLOUKAS WATCHED AS Jessica stood in the gondola, her new, shorter hair being ruffled by the wind. Her face was pale, her eyes looked huge, and the tension surrounding her was almost palpable. Not for the first time that day, he clenched his fists with frustration, because this had been his idea and on paper it had seemed like an outstanding one. All the boxes had been ticked. She wore a tight-fitting, corseted black ballgown which hugged her slender body and emphasised her neat little breasts. Long black satin gloves came up to her elbow and a waterfall of diamonds glittered against her breasts.
It should have been perfect. Jessica Cartwright looking exactly as the team at Zeitgeist had wanted her to look. Sleek and grown-up and very, very sexy.
Yet she stood there like a waxwork. Her eyes seemed empty and her expression blank. Even her smile looked as if it had been plastered on.
He shook his head in disbelief as he thought back to the way she’d been in his arms the other night, when he’d kissed her in the elevator. She had been fire that night, not ice—but where was all that fire now?
His eyes bored into hers.
There was nothing left but embers.
From her precarious position in the Grand Canal, Jessica met Loukas’s stony black gaze, which was boring into her from the side of the water. None of the crew were happy—she could tell. Not one of them, but especially not Loukas, who seemed to have been glaring at her since the shoot had got underway. The chill Venetian wind whipped around her as she tried to keep her balance, which wasn’t easy when she was standing on a bobbing gondola.
She felt cold—inside and out. Around her neck hung a priceless dazzle of blue-white diamonds which shone like a beacon in the gloom of the winter day. Her newly bare neck—shorn back in London of its protective curtain of long hair—was now completely exposed to the wintry Venetian elements. Strands of the sleek new style fluttered around her chin and were starting to stick to her lip-gloss. And even though Patti the stylist stood next to her—poised with a hairbrush and a big cashmere wrap—that didn’t stop Jessica from feeling ridiculously underdressed. These photos were light years away from the demure and sporty shots she usually did for the store and she felt stupid. No. She felt exposed.
And vulnerable.
Her eyelashes were laden down with more mascara than she’d ever worn before and consequently the smoky make-up they’d been aiming for looked as if someone had given her two black eyes. The glossy, cyclamen-pink lipstick, intended to echo the colour of the brand’s iconic packaging, gave her an almost clown-like appearance. And the dress. Oh, the dress. She didn’t even want to get started on the dress. It was everything she wasn’t—vampy and revealing. Ebony satin fitted so closely on the bodice that she could barely breathe and cut so low that her cleavage was now an unflattering sea of goosebumps. Beneath the swish of the full skirt her knees were knocking together with a mixture of nerves and embarrassment. Because even though the city was relatively quiet in February, the odd tourist had stopped to take her photo and she hated it.
She hated trying to look sexy and sophisticated, which was the look the art director had told her he wanted—since she felt neither. She felt like a fraud—and wouldn’t they all laugh themselves silly if they discovered that she hadn’t made love to a man in eight long years?
Of course, having Loukas standing watching her wasn’t helping. In fact, it was making everything a whole lot worse. Against the misty grey and white of the Venetian backdrop, the Greek stood out like a dark spectre on the bank of the canal. The light from the water caught him in its silvery gleam and the city’s sense of the hidden and the deep seemed to reflect back his own unknowable personality. Two burly security guards flanked him, their eyes fixed on the fortune in gems which shimmered against her skin.
The art director looked at his watch and frowned. ‘Okay, we’re losing the light. Let’s call it a day, shall we? Same time tomorrow, people.’
As some of the crew sprang forward to help her from the gondola, Jessica could see the art director muttering something to Loukas, who was nodding his head in thoughtful agreement. His black gaze held hers for a moment and she felt the skitter of unwanted desire whispering over her skin. Why was he even here? Why didn’t he go back to London and leave her alone? Surely she might be able to come up with what they wanted if he weren’t standing there, like a fire-breathing dragon, making her feel inadequate in all kinds of ways. Holding the voluminous folds of the black satin skirt of her dress, she stepped onto the bank and was handed the cashmere shawl.
‘We’re going to St Mark’s Square for coffee, though maybe you deserve a brandy after all that,’ said Patti, rubbing her hands together before putting them over her mouth and blowing on them. ‘Fancy coming along once you’ve taken your necklace off and changed?’
‘Not right now. I’m going to take Jess back to the hotel,’ came a dark and silky voice from behind her.
Jessica glanced round to see Loukas walking towards her, like a character who had just stepped from an oil painting. His dark cashmere overcoat matched the dark gleam of his hair and today he seemed devoid of all colour. Today, he was all black. The hard-edged smile he glimmered at her set off faint warning bells, though she wasn’t sure why.
‘Because she looks frozen,’ he added deliberately.
Yes, she was frozen, but, although her skin felt like ice, her blood grew heated when his fingers brushed against her neck as he unclipped the heavy diamonds and handed them over to the waiting security guard. She felt lighter once the jewels had been removed and she wrapped the shawl tightly around herself, trying to hide herself from Loukas’s searching gaze. But nothing could protect her from the way he was making her feel, as self-conscious beneath that piercing stare as she had been during their journey out here.
They had taken a scheduled flight from London, which had been just about tolerable, because at least Loukas had been working while Jessica attempted to read a book. But when they had arrived and their waiting water taxi had taken them towards the city, she’d felt herself unwillingly caught up in the romance of the moment, no matter how hard she tried to fight it.
She had felt as if she were in a film as the sleek craft sped through the choppy grey waters, leaving a trail of white plume behind them, and the iconic skyline of cities, churches and domes loomed up ahead of them. She had failed to conceal her gasp of pleasure as they’d entered the Grand Canal and Loukas had turned to her and smiled. A complicit smile edged with danger and, yes, with promise.
And Jessica had shivered just as she was shivering now.
‘Let’s walk back to the hotel,’ he said as the crew began to disperse.
Picking up the heavy skirt to prevent it from dragging on the damp bank, she looked at him. ‘You really think I can walk back to the hotel wearing this?’
‘You don’t imagine that women in ages past had to struggle with dresses similar to that?’ he mused. ‘Think of the famous masked ball they hold here every February. And you’ll be warmer if we walk. Come on. It isn’t far.’
‘Okay,’ she said, and pulled the cashmere closer.
She stuck close to his side as they began to weave their way through the narrow streets, past shop windows filled with leather books and exquisite glassware and over tiny, echoing bridges. It was like being in the centre of an ancient maze and it wasn’t long before Jessica had completely lost her bearings. ‘You seem to know exactly where you’re going,’ she said.
‘Unless you think I’m planning to get you lost in Venice, never to be seen again?’
She looked up at him and her heart gave a funny kind of thud. ‘Are you?’
He laughed. ‘Tempting, but no. Look. We’re here.’
It was with something almost like disappointment that Jessica glanced up to see their hotel ahead of them, with light spilling out from the elegant porticoed entrance. Heads turned as they walked into the palm-filled foyer and she guessed that they must make a bizarre couple with her in the flowing ballgown and Loukas in his black cashmere coat. She could feel the swish of her dress brushing over the marble floor and felt her cheeks grow pink when the pianist broke into a version of ‘Isn’t She Lovely?’ and a group of businessmen started clapping and cheering as she passed them by. She wanted to dive into the elevator but her suite was on the first floor and the sweeping staircase seemed the most sensible option for getting there. But the voluminous skirt of her dress took some manoeuvring and she was out of breath by the time she got to the top.
‘Not quite as fit as you used to be?’ Loukas said, his black eyes glinting.
‘Obviously not, since I’m not playing competitive tennis any more, but I’m fit enough. I’m just not used to dragging this amount of material around with me.’
There was a pause as they reached her door and she fumbled with her key card to open it.
‘So, are you going to have dinner with me tonight?’ he asked.
She shook her head. ‘Thanks for the offer, but I’m going to have a bath and try to get warm again. My hands feel like ice.’ She hesitated as she looked up into his face and then swallowed. ‘They didn’t like what I did today, did they? I could tell.’
He shrugged. ‘It was all new to you. You’re used to being brisk and breezy, to wearing casual clothes and looking sporty—and suddenly you’re expected to start behaving like a vamp. You’re operating outside your comfort zone, Jess, but don’t worry. You’ll get it right tomorrow.’
‘And if I don’t?’
His eyes glinted again. ‘We’ll just have to make sure you do.’ He brushed a reflective finger down over her spine. ‘Have you thought how you’re planning to get out of this dress? Unless you’re something of a contortionist you might have something of a problem, since it has about a hundred hooks.’
Jessica was trying not to react to the brush of his finger and she cursed the restrictive fastenings intended to give her an hourglass shape. She knew what he was suggesting but the thought of him helping her undress seemed all wrong. Yet what else was she going to do? Patti and the crew were in some unknown bar in an unknown city, and, short of waiting for them to return, she certainly couldn’t undo it herself.
‘Would you mind?’ she said casually, as if it didn’t bother her one way or the other.
‘No, I don’t mind,’ he said, just as casually, as he followed her into the suite.
It was the most beautiful place she had ever stayed in, but Jessica barely noticed the carved furniture or the beautifully restored antique piano which stood beneath a huge chandelier. Even the stunning view over the Grand Canal and the magnificent dome of the Salute church couldn’t distract her from the thought that Loukas was here, in her hotel room.
‘Aren’t you going to turn around and look at me, Jess?’ he questioned softly.
She cleared her throat, wondering if he could hear her nervousness. ‘You’re supposed to be undoing my dress,’ she said. ‘And you can’t do that unless I have my back to you.’
There was a split second of a pause. She thought she heard him give a soft laugh as he unclipped the first hook, and then the second. She wanted to tell him to hurry up and yet she wanted him to take all the time in the world. She could feel the rush of air to her back as he loosened the gown and she closed her eyes as another hook was liberated. Was this how women used to feel in the days before they were free to wear short dresses and trousers, or go without a bra? A sense of being completely within a man’s power as he slowly undressed her?
Her breath caught in her throat because now there was a contrast between the air which had initially cooled her skin being replaced by the unmistakable warmth of a breath. Her eyelashes fluttered. Was he...was he breathing against her bare back?
Yes, he was.
It felt like the most intimate thing imaginable. She swallowed, because now his lips were pressing against the skin and he was actually kissing her there.
Her eyes closed. She knew she ought to say something but every nerve in her body was telling her not to break the spell. Because this was anonymous, wasn’t it? It was pleasurable and anonymous, and she didn’t have to think. She didn’t have to remember that this was Loukas and that there was bad history between them. She didn’t have to look into those gleaming black eyes or see triumph curving his lips into a mocking smile. All she was conscious of was the feel of his lips brushing against her and the hot prickling of her breasts in response.
The dress had slid down to her hips and his hands were moving to skim their curves as if he was rediscovering them. Luxuriantly, he spread his fingers over the flesh and she thought she heard him give a sigh of pleasure. She swallowed, but still she didn’t say anything, because it was easier to play dumb. To want it to continue yet not be seen to be encouraging it. Her heart began to beat even faster because now he had started brushing his fingers over her lacy thong and with that came a wave of lust so strong that it washed away the residual grains of her conscience.
‘Mmm,’ he said as the dress fell to the ground, pooling around her ankles and leaving her legs completely bare. He was kissing her neck and his fingers were hooking into her panties and she felt a molten rush of heat.
She knew she should stop him. But she couldn’t. She just couldn’t. It had been so long since she had done this and she was cold. So cold. And Loukas was making her feel warm. Warmer than she’d felt in a long time.
His fingers had moved from her hip and were now inside her panties, alighting on her heated flesh with a familiarity which seemed as poignant as it was exciting.
‘It’s been a long time,’ he said almost reflectively, drifting a fingertip across the engorged bud.
Jessica’s body jerked with pleasure. She wanted to say something—anything—as if to reassure herself that she was still there and that it was all real. But the words simply wouldn’t come. His touch had robbed her of the power to speak. Her breath had dried in her throat and all she could think about was the hunger building up inside her and dominating her whole world. Her thighs seemed to be parting of their own accord and she felt the warmth of his breath as he smiled against her neck.
‘You are very wet, koukla mou,’ he murmured.
She swallowed as her eyes closed. ‘Yes.’
‘Wet for me?’
‘Y-yes.’
‘Have you been imagining me touching you here?’
‘Yes!’
‘And...here?’
‘God, yes.’ Jessica gasped, even though his words seemed to contradict his actions. Because what he was saying was provocative, but strangely cold. He was objectifying her, she realised with a brief rush of horror and she tried to pull away. To end it while she still could. But by then it was too late because she was starting to come and he was giving a low laugh of triumph as he swivelled her round to cover her mouth with his, his hand still cupping her flesh while his kiss drowned out her broken cry of surrender.
His tongue was in her mouth as she pulsated helplessly around his finger and the combination of that double invasion only increased her pleasure, until she thought she might have slid to the ground, if he hadn’t been holding onto her so tightly. Time passed in a slow, throbbing haze before her eyelids fluttered open to find Loukas watching her, still with that faintly triumphant smile on his face. Slowly, he withdrew his finger and she noted that it wasn’t quite steady.
‘Jess,’ he said and picked her up and carried her into the bedroom to lie her down on the bed.
‘Loukas,’ she whispered, and the tip of her tongue came out to slide over her parted lips.
Loukas felt the savage beat of his heart as he looked at her glistening mouth and his erection was so hard that it took him a moment or two before he was able to move. He wanted to tear off his clothes and just take her. But not yet. Not until he was in control of his feelings. Until he was certain that he was in no danger of being trapped by the powerful spell she had always been able to weave around him.
He tried to study her objectively as he shrugged off his overcoat and hung it over the back of a chair, then went back towards the bed on which she lay. Strange that she should have been so cold and uptight in front of the camera today and yet had fallen apart the moment he’d touched her. But hadn’t that always been her way? He gave a bitter smile. The only time he’d ever been able to penetrate her haughty exterior—in more ways than one—was when she was naked and writhing beneath him. Because outside the bedroom, or the sitting room, or the car—or wherever else they happened to have been doing it—she had always been the very definition of cool.
But not now.
Her eyes were smoky, her face flushed with satisfaction and her thighs parted in such open invitation that he was almost tempted to bury his head between them and lick her. He thought how at home she looked, lying back against the brocade covering the ornate four-poster bed. But of course, she was. This place was classy and luxurious; it was the environment to which she was most suited. The one in which he had never quite fitted.
He reached out his hand and laid it over her left breast. He could feel her heart pounding beneath the lace of her provocative bra as he circled a thumb over the nipple which was peaking through the scarlet and black lace. ‘You never used to wear such frivolous underwear when I was with you, koukla mou,’ he observed silkily. ‘So what happened? Did the men who followed me demand that you dress to please—or have your tastes simply changed and evolved with time?’
Jessica opened her mouth to tell him that Patti had taken her shopping after they’d been to the hairdresser, explaining that the revealing gowns wouldn’t tolerate anything except the briefest of bras, and that her panties should preferably match to get her in the mood for the shoot. Except that it hadn’t worked out that way, had it? She had stood posing like a female ice cube in the dramatic and sexy dress and had only really come to life when Loukas had touched her.
She bit her lip. And how he had touched her. She had forgotten how exquisite an orgasm could feel when it was administered by the only man she had ever really cared about. She had forgotten how weak and powerless it could make you feel. As if all your strength had been sapped. It could make you vulnerable if you weren’t careful, and she needed to be careful.
She shouldn’t have allowed it to happen, but now that she had she wanted it continue. She had acted foolishly but maybe understandably—or at least, understandable to her. She was like someone who’d broken her diet by opening a packet of cookies. But why stop at one, when four would be much more satisfactory and make the sin worthwhile? She didn’t want her enduring memory of sex with Loukas to be a one-sided, rather emotionless pleasuring. She wanted to make love to him properly. Hadn’t she wanted that for years? She wanted to feel him inside her. Deep inside her. Filling her and heating her as nothing else could.
She reached up her hand and began to unbutton his shirt, determined to approach this as if they were equals. Because she wasn’t some little virgin who’d just been seduced, and though she might lack his undoubted sexual experience, there was no reason for him to know that.
‘Do you really want to talk about other men at a moment like this?’ she questioned coolly, slipping free another button and rubbing her hand against his hair-roughened chest.
His mouth tightened as he leaned forward and began to tug at the belt of his trousers. ‘No,’ he said. ‘I don’t. And soon you won’t be able to, because I’m going to make you forget every other man you’ve had sex with. You won’t be able to remember a single damned thing about them, because all you’ll be able to think about is me.’
The arrogant boast shocked her but it thrilled her, too. Nearly as much as it thrilled her to see him peel off his clothes to reveal his body in all its honed olive splendour. It was as magnificent as it had ever been but suddenly Jessica gasped because there—zigzagging over the side of his torso like a fleshy fork of lightning—was a livid scarlet scar. Her fingers flew to her lips before reaching out to touch it, as tentatively as if it might still hurt. As if it might open up and begin to bleed all over the bed.
‘What happened to you?’ she whispered.
‘Not now, Jess,’ he growled.
‘But—’
‘I said, not now.’ His hand slid between her thighs and began to move, effectively silencing all further questioning. ‘Does that kind of detail please you?’ he rasped. ‘Does it turn you on to think that your rough, tough bodyguard has the mark of violence on his body?’
There was something in his tone she didn’t understand—some dark note which lay just beneath the mockery—and Jessica was confused. But by then he was stroking her again and his mouth was on her breast, and she was growing so hot for him that she could barely wait for him to slide on the condom and position himself over her.
She was trembling as he made that first thrust and the sensation surpassed every fantasy she’d ever had about him. But to her surprise, he was trembling, too, and for several moments his big body stayed completely still, as if he didn’t trust himself to move.
She wanted to whisper things to him. Soft, stupid things. She wanted to tell him that she wished she’d married him when he’d asked her. That she’d thrown away the best chance of happiness she’d ever had. But nobody could rewrite history—and didn’t they say everything happened for a reason? Even if right now it was difficult to see what that reason could possibly be.
And then all the nagging thoughts were driven from her mind because her orgasm was happening again. It built up into a crescendo and sent her into total meltdown—and the shuddered moan which echoed around the room told her that so, too, had his.
