Читать книгу Satisfaction: The Greek Tycoon's Baby Bargain - Sharon Kendrick - Страница 10

XANDROS had been to Rebecca’s house before—but maybe he’d never looked at it properly. When a man was hot with desire it obliterated almost everything else and he had wanted her so badly. She had made him wait for so long that the sex had been dynamite. He hadn’t been able to get enough of her.

And now? His thumb jammed on the doorbell. Of course he still wanted her, but inevitably desire became corrupted. Life and circumstances began to muddy it. More damningly, women always had to try and change what was good—and to reach beyond that. Why did they always want more than you were prepared to give and thus to ruin it for themselves? Xandros felt his mouth thin into a grim line. They hid their duplicity and schemes behind their beautiful smiles and men allowed them to. Why, he would never forget the shock on his father’s face when his mother had announced she was leaving them. How could a man be such a fool not to have seen it coming? How could he and Kyros not have seen it coming?

Her front door flew open. Hair piled up on top of her head and an apron tied around the waist of her short cotton dress—this was Rebecca looking more functional than he had ever seen her. Her smile was bright, but he thought he could detect a wariness in her eyes. Had she recognised that she had pushed him into a corner and realised her folly too late?

But Xandros had played out this scene often enough in the past that he’d become a master of it and knew how best to deal with it. He had his props to hand, just as she had hers. He could hear the sound of music playing and smell something cooking.

‘Hello, Rebecca,’ he said softly.

‘Hello, Xandros.’ She stood there, almost awkwardly, not quite knowing what to do, or say. A fish out of water in her own home. ‘Won’t you come in?’

He gave an odd kind of smile as he walked into the tiny hallway and shut the door behind him. How he hated convention—the stultifying feeling that this kind of situation imposed on him. Trying to ignore the line of shoes which were lined up by the telephone—how cluttered!—he stared down into her violet-blue eyes. ‘No kiss?’ he mused.

She wound her arms up around his neck, her inexplicable nerves and his heady proximity making her tremble—but once his lips crushed down on hers, then all her vague fears were forgotten. How could they be otherwise? The seeking caress of his kiss and the hard contours of his body stirred her into instant longing as she gave herself up to his kiss and with a hungry groan he deepened it.

His hands began to rove experimentally over her body and once again he was taken aback by the intensity of his desire—his body felt like dry timber, her kiss the match which ignited it. He wanted her here, now—instantly. If he could have signed a pact at that moment to say that he wanted to spend the rest of his life inside her body, then he would have signed it willingly. ‘Oh, Rebecca,’ he groaned. ‘What is it that you do to me?’

‘X-Xandros,’ she breathed, because he was splaying his fingers luxuriously over her bottom and bringing her up against the hard cradle of his own desire.

‘Ne, agape mou? What is it that you want? Some of this? Ah, yes—you like that, don’t you? And this? Mmm? This, too?’

His fingers were teasing their way over her belly and he was drifting his mouth against her neck in a way which was making her shiver even more. She knew what he wanted—exactly the same as her—but tonight was going to be different. Tonight she wanted to feel more than just an object in his arms.

She pulled away from him, her cheeks flushed, her heart beating like crazy. ‘There’ll be time for that later—but I don’t want your supper ruined.’

How like a suburban housewife she sounded! But Xandros didn’t react. Didn’t she realise what she sounded like? Didn’t she realize how many times women had spoiled things for themselves through their own, warped ambition? ‘No, indeed—for that would indeed be a crime,’ he said gravely. ‘To ruin my supper.’

Rebecca smiled uneasily. ‘Come on through.’

Xandros walked into the sitting room, which had a dining area at one end, and a door leading into the tiny kitchen. It was smaller than his walk-in closet back in New York and once he had made love to her on that rather curious sofa while his chauffeur waited outside. But tonight the scene was very different and she had clearly gone to a lot of trouble.

Candles glittered everywhere and there was a small pot of flowers placed at the centre of the table, which was laid for dinner—every piece of cutlery and china seeming to be fighting for a little of the limited space. The smell of polish clashed with the heavy smell of something cooking, and Xandros forced a smile.

‘It smells delicious,’ he lied.

‘Does it? I hope you’re hungry.’

He guessed that now would not be a good time to tell her that he had eaten something on the plane. ‘Why don’t we have a drink first?’

‘Yes, of course—sorry, I should have asked. Would wine be all right?’

‘Some wine would be perfect,’ he said evenly, and took the bottle from her and began to open it. ‘Here, let me.’

The glasses were chinking like wind chimes as she put them down in front of them. Would he notice that was because her hands were shaking—and how stupid was that? Xandros was her lover and she was entertaining him for the first time—what was there to be nervous about?

He poured them both a glass and handed one to her. ‘What shall we drink to?’

To us, she wanted to say—but only a fool would have made a toast as inappropriate as that. ‘Let’s drink to happiness.’

He wanted to wince but sipped his wine instead, before putting put his glass down to dig deep inside his pocket to produce a small packet. He held it out towards her.

Wide-eyed, Rebecca stared at it, and then up at him. It looked like … ‘What’s this?’

‘Why not open it and see?’

A present? A present which looked awfully like jewellery? Carefully, she put her drink down and fumbled with the wrapping to reveal a pair of earrings. They were large amber ovals—simple and bright as syrup, set in plain silver—and she stared at them for a moment, her eyes blinking furiously because the gesture was so unexpected.

‘Put them on,’ he said.

They gleamed against her ears and reflected back the colour of her hair. ‘Oh, Xandros—they’re beautiful,’ she breathed. ‘But why have you bought me earrings?’

Something to remember me by. ‘Isn’t a man allowed to buy a woman presents?’ he retorted softly.

‘Well, yes, but …’ A timer starter pinging in the kitchen. ‘Damn!’ she exclaimed. ‘I’d better go and turn the oven off.’

‘Leave it.’

‘I can’t leave it—the pie will burn.’

‘Let it burn.’ He snaked his hands around her waist and brought her up close to him, seeing the violet-blue light from her eyes darken with desire as he began to kiss her.

But for once Rebecca couldn’t relax into it. Was that burning she could smell? After all her hard work? ‘The dinner …’

He said something soft and explicit in Greek as she pulled away from him.

‘Xandros, I must go and check the dinner.’

‘Must you?’

His hand caressed her cheek and for a moment, she hesitated. She knew he wanted her, just as she wanted him—but this had to change. She had spent most of her last few days off making everything perfect for this evening—and just because he had bought her a beautiful present didn’t mean that she should change all her plans and let everything spoil, did it?

‘You’ve taken me out for so many meals that I want to treat you for a change,’ she whispered as she traced his lips with the tip of her finger. ‘I shan’t be long.’

Moodily, Xandros waited while she clattered around with pots and pans. He could hear the sound of some kind of extractor fan sounding like a small aircraft about to take off in her kitchen. By the time she eventually returned and deposited dishes and plates on the table, her face was all warm with steam and tendrils of hair were spilling untidily around her face.

‘It’s a bit burned.’

‘So I see.’

‘Your fault for kissing me.’

‘Fault?’ he echoed faintly.

‘Or mine for letting you.’ But he didn’t smile back.

They dished the meal out in silence and Rebecca couldn’t shake off the terrible sense of impending doom as she gave him a portion of the least cremated part of the pie.

‘So when did you last eat a home-cooked meal?’

He wanted to say never—and wouldn’t that have been the truth? But Xandros had no desire to tell her that and to have to parry the questions which would inevitably follow.

And wasn’t there one tiny part of him which couldn’t fail to be touched by all the trouble she’d gone to tonight? But he steeled his heart against it—because he knew the category of this evening’s entertainment.

It was: See what a perfect home-maker I can be, Xandros.

There were others, of course.

The: Let me ensnare you with my sexual prowess, Xandros.

Or, I’ll make myself so indispensable to your life that you’ll wonder how you ever managed without me, Xandros.

But they were all variations on a theme. All part of the games that women played. Show them a single man with sex appeal and billions in the bank and they seemed to go straight onto some kind of predictable autopilot. Xandros would be the last person to deny his own arrogance and self-assurance—but it was a simple fact that women had been trying to marry him for years.

Was that why Rebecca had produced this touching little scene tonight? Had she decided that a man so used to untold wealth would be captivated by a more humble setting? Didn’t she realise that he had seen it all before—and then some more?

‘Xandros?’ she prompted him, hating the tense and forbidding mask which seemed to have tightened his handsome face. ‘I was asking when you’d last had a home-cooked meal like this?’

He topped up their wineglasses and gave her a bland smile. ‘I don’t remember.’

Rebecca frowned. They never talked about the kind of stuff that other couples talked about. Surely they’d been together long enough now for her to be able to ask him a little more about his past? Because how could they get to know one another better without knowing the basics? ‘What about when you were a little boy?’ she asked, her voice growing gentle—trying to imagine him as a youngster.

‘Was there something specific you wanted to know?’ he questioned coolly.

‘Well, not really specific—I meant more general, really.’ She smiled at him in silent appeal. I’m interested, that’s all—her eyes tried to tell him. ‘You never talk much about your life in Greece, or your brother, for that matter. I can’t even remember his name.’

He felt like pointing out that his brother’s name was irrelevant. ‘His name is Kyros. And there is nothing much to say. You know the facts about my former life.’ His black eyes glittered her a warning. ‘I left when I was eighteen and I have not been back.’

‘But he—Kyros—he’s your twin, isn’t he?’

‘And?’ She was using his brother’s name as if she knew him! As if she ever would! Xandros pushed his plate away and his eyes were cold—for she had persisted when he had made it very clear that he did not wish to pursue the subject.

‘The world seems to have some kind of universal theory about twins which is based on sentiment rather than fact,’ he ground out. ‘The consensus being that there is always some kind of telepathy—some unbreakable bond between them. Well, let me tell you, Rebecca—that much is pure fantasy.’ As were so many of the myths peddled about family lives. That mothers cared and fathers played with their sons.

She was taken aback by the sudden harshness in his voice, as if she had touched on a very raw nerve indeed. Intuition told her to back off, but a far more powerful instinct overrode it. Because what was the point of being with Xandros if all she was allowed to do was operate within the strict emotional boundaries he seemed to want to dictate? Hadn’t that been one of the reasons why she’d organised this wretched dinner in the first place? To burrow beneath his peculiar icy-yet-passionate persona to find the real substance of the man beneath.

‘You sound so bitter, Xandros,’ she ventured quietly. ‘So angry. Won’t you tell me why?’

He flinched as if she had struck him, staring at her. ‘You dare to call me bitter? You dare to speak of what you do not know?’

He was twisting her words, just as he was twisting his mouth into a contemptuous curve of condemnation. ‘It wasn’t meant like that!’ she protested. ‘It wasn’t supposed to be an insult. All I wanted—’

‘I don’t care what you want!’ he bit out. ‘Because what I don’t want is to unburden myself to you, my beauty.’ Black eyes burned into her. ‘That was never part of the deal.’

His words weren’t making sense. ‘The deal?’ she echoed unsteadily. ‘What deal?’

His heart had begun to pound, the blood to beat thickly through his veins. Draining off the last of his wine, he put the empty glass down on the table. ‘My time with you was supposed to be a pleasant interlude—and now suddenly I’m supposed to be baring my soul just because you’ve peeled a few potatoes. If I’d wanted a damned therapy session I could have crossed the road in New York and found a hundred!’ He saw her stricken face and with an effort, he quelled his fury. ‘Listen, Rebecca,’ he said, in as gentle a voice as he’d ever used with her. ‘What we’ve had together has been—’

‘Nothing!’ cut in Rebecca furiously—because she saw where this was heading as clearly as if she were emerging from the darkness into the bright, glaring light of day. He was about to dump her! And along with that revelation came the realisation of just how weak and compliant she’d been all along—always accommodating his needs. It had been Xandros, Xandros, Xandros all the way. She had tiptoed around him, trying to gauge what he wanted and how he felt. She had walked on eggshells and look where it had got her. Suddenly, she felt filled with self-disgust at the way she had behaved.

So if she didn’t like the way she had been treated by the Greek billionaire—then she had only herself to blame. It wasn’t too late for her to seize the tattered remnants of her pride before he did irreversible damage to it. She sucked in a shuddering breath. ‘You know—for all the fancy restaurants and beautiful hotels—it’s really been nothing but sex and small talk! That’s all we’ve ever had between us,’ she bit out tremblingly. ‘And do you know something else, Xandros? I’m glad it’s over. Yes, glad!’

Xandros stilled, his senses on alert. ‘But I haven’t told you that it’s over.’

Rebecca almost laughed out loud at his exquisite arrogance—if it hadn’t already started to hurt so much. ‘No, that’s right. You haven’t. Because I’m telling you. It’s over—maybe it should never have begun. Heaven knows, I did my best to resist you.’

‘But you couldn’t,’ he taunted.

‘No. I couldn’t. You’re very good, Xandros—I’ll admit that. The best, in fact. It would take a stronger woman than me to resist you and the charm you oozed all over me at the time—but which seems to have been in ever-diminishing quantities ever since.’ Her eyes flashed him a challenge. ‘But at least we both know now where we stand—so I think perhaps you’d better go, don’t you?’

He saw the high flush of colour which washed over her cheekbones and the violet-blue fire which sparked from her eyes and in that moment he knew an overwhelming anger at her insolence and interference—coupled with a rush of desire so strong that he felt himself hardening against his will.

‘Yes, I’ll go,’ he said, and God forgive him but he enjoyed the instinctive way she bit her lip at his ready agreement. She would live to regret her impetuosity! And yet he could not resist one parting shot—one more arrogant demonstration of how he could still pull the strings, should he so desire. ‘But before I do—what about a farewell kiss?’ he suggested, his voice one of deceptive silk. ‘For old times’ sake?’

‘N-no.’ But Rebecca’s protest sounded half-hearted and it was too late anyway, for he had caught hold of her and was pulling her into his arms.

One touch and she was lost. Willingly lost. Like a line of fierce flame sweeping down an arid hillside—scorching everything in its touch with instant combustion. She heard his groan as he tightened his embrace and she heard her own echo it. Please make me stop him, she begged herself—but she made no move to stop him.

Afterwards, she would try to justify her actions by telling herself that it was like someone who was just about to go on a long journey without food or drink—and who could blame them for taking part in a banquet if it was offered?

But this was Xandros as she had never seen him before—like a pure-bred stallion, all excitement and fire. And his wild fervour only fuelled her own urgent need. She wanted to drown in his kiss and take him down with her. His hands were on her breasts, moulding them luxuriously against his palms, and then they were smoothing frantically down over her hips and her bottom—and he had begun to ruck her dress up like a man possessed.

And all the while he was kissing her—varying the kiss so that it was in turns hard, and then soft. Cajoling her and tempting her and then inciting her to touch him back—to run her fingers greedily over the hard ridge in his jeans, so that he gave a low, throaty laugh of pleasure.

‘Unzip me,’ he commanded roughly—and to her everlasting shame, she did just that.

Her expensive panties—which were new and had been bought especially for the seduction she had planned for later—were destined to be ripped off and allowed to flutter uselessly to the floor. She couldn’t even in all conscience blame him, could she? Not when she was writhing around—so turned on that she thought she might have urged him to do just that.

There was no finesse about what was taking place now. Xandros was pushing her down against the hard floor and yet her arms were reaching up to try to pull him down on top of her. And he was groaning again, just yanking his jeans down, and she realised that he wasn’t going to bother taking them off but was just going to … going to…

He let out a cry as he thrust into her and it was echoed by her own. She sobbed as he drove in deeper, and then deeper still—deeper than he had ever been—as if he were piercing her soul itself. The wild scream she let out as she bucked beneath him was the heralding of her orgasm—but it also signalled the breaking of her heart. Because the heart didn’t respond to reason and—no matter how many reasons she threw at herself why she shouldn’t—the fact was that she loved him.

She could feel the salty taste of tears welling up at the back of her throat as she tried to imagine a life without Xandros and it was like trying to conjure up a bleak, bare landscape with no sign of light on the horizon.

Afterwards, she lay there for as long as it took for his body to grow still, and then heavy. Hearing his breathing grow more steady, until she was sure that he must have fallen asleep. But then she felt him move.

Moving out of and then away from her and she kept her eyes tight closed to keep the tears at bay—hating herself for wanting him back in her arms, wishing that the whole stupid scene and row had never happened and they could have carried on with the evening as she had planned. Damn it—she couldn’t even remember what the argument had been about.

Silently, Xandros rose to his feet, adjusting his clothes and zipping up his jeans, his heart still pounding madly in his chest. He stared down at Rebecca—her hair had come down and it spilled all over her rosy-flushed neck, shining gold against the rose. A stab of guilt pierced him as he noted the torn and discarded panties on the floor, until he reminded himself that she had wanted that just as much as him. Easily as much.

‘Rebecca?’

She turned her face to the wall and the pain in her heart made her want to curl up like a broken animal. ‘Just go, will you, Xandros?’ she said wearily.

His eyes narrowed, capturing her and the scene in a brief snapshot to file away in his memory one last time. ‘Goodbye, Rebecca,’ he said softly, and shut the door very quietly behind him.