Barefoot, Anna tripped across the mosaic tiles of the courtyard, skirting the edge of the pool’s shimmering water. Her pale skin glowed in the moonlight as she ran beneath the dark shadows of palm trees.
Nikos caught her in front of the enormous Moroccan fountain, his arms wrapping around her from behind.
“I need you, Anna,” he said huskily in her ear, holding her body against his own. “And you need me. Don’t deny it.”
Kissing her neck from behind, he ran his hands over her, cupping her breasts in the suede.
Sucking in her breath, she whirled to face him. Angry words fell unspoken as she saw his face. His handsome, strong face, made somehow even more masculine with the dark bristles of a five o’clock shadow on his chin. In the snug black T-shirt and dark jeans he didn’t look like a billionaire tycoon. He looked like a biker, dangerous and dark, and a devil in bed.
He was right. She wanted him.
Needed him.
Could so easily love him...
“I can’t,” she gasped aloud.
“Can’t?” He held her even tighter.
In spite of her resolve, honesty poured out of her. “I can’t fight you anymore...”
His sensual lips curved into a smile as he reached his hand behind her head and pulled her into a hot, hard kiss. She returned the kiss hungrily, tasting blood in the intensity of their mutual need. His blood? Hers? She didn’t care. All she knew was that she’d been denied his touch for too long. If he stopped kissing her now she would die.
She wanted to possess him as thoroughly and savagely as he’d possessed her soul...
She pressed her hands against his back, desperate to pull him closer, but it wasn’t enough. She brought her hands between them, beneath his shirt, running her hands up his taut belly. She heard him gasp as she explored the trail of hair up his chest, feeling the hard planes of his torso. He’d always been strong, but his muscles were bigger now, harder than they’d ever been. And more...
“What’s this?” she murmured aloud, but didn’t wait for an answer. She yanked on the black T-shirt, and he let her pull it off his body. She lightly traced a hard ridge across his naked collarbone, then found another one over his ribs.
“You have new scars,” she whispered.
He shrugged, a deceptively careless gesture. “I worked some aggression out in the boxing ring while you were gone.”
“I’m sorry—”
“I’m not. I’m stronger now. No one will ever have to do my fighting for me again.”
Unlike most rich men, she thought in a daze. Unlike Victor.
Nikos ran his hands up and down her halter top, caressing the soft suede, pressing her breasts upwards until they threatened to spill over. He reached beneath the top, cupping and weighing their fullness, then bent to nuzzle between them. The dark stubble of his chin was rough against her tender skin, sending prickles all over her body as he licked his way slowly to her neck. He sucked at the crook of her shoulder, causing pain and pleasure and a mark of possession.
She moaned softly, arching into him. He pushed her back roughly against the tiled wall of the courtyard. Her eyelids fluttered, and as if in a dream she saw the splash of colorful tile in the moonlight, heard the burble of the stone fountain.
She couldn’t let this happen...
She couldn’t stop herself from letting it happen...
Dazed and unsteady, she threw her arms back against the wall for support. He pressed his hands on the small of her back, pulling her closer, tighter. His naked chest pressed against her, the hard muscles of his arms wrapped around her bare arms. Their legs were tangled as she felt the naked skin of his taut belly against her own. He kissed her hard, running his hands through her hair.
He ran his hands along the sides of her jeans. Jeans! She cursed the choice. Why hadn’t she worn a skirt? He grabbed her backside, lifting her up so she could wrap her legs around him. She could feel how hard he was, how ready for her. She wanted him to take her here, now, against the wall, before she had time to think.
“God, I want you,” he whispered. “For the last year you’re the only woman I’ve been able to think about. Just you. Only you.”
She took a deep breath. “Then take me.”
There. She’d said it. Right or wrong, she’d dared to admit what they both already knew: she wanted him. Her cheeks felt hot; she felt like a hoyden. She took a deep breath. “But please be gentle. My—my doctor said the first time I had sex after the baby might feel like...like I was a virgin. It might hurt.”
He pulled back abruptly, giving her a searing look. “I would never hurt you, agape mou.”
At that moment she believed him. “I know.”
But he still hesitated, looking troubled. She realized that he was holding himself back because he didn’t want to cause her pain. He still cared about her. For the first time she felt the magnitude of her own power over him, and it thrilled her.
She smiled up at him, tracing the beauty of his slightly crooked nose with her fingertip, touching his bare scars. He was a warrior, fierce and powerful, and frightening in his beauty.
But, powerful as he was, she realized she could match his fire.
Bracing her hands on his shoulders, she unwrapped her legs from his body. Backing away, she reached behind her and untied her halter top. It fell into her hands, leaving her upper body naked. Moonlight briefly drenched her skin in an opalescent glow the color of pearls, then disappeared behind the dark clouds that were rapidly covering the sky.
She stood in front of him in the semidarkness, straight and tall. She’d never been this brave before. Even during the months of their affair she’d always let him take the lead. Nervous at her own daring, she looked into his face.
His expression was strained. With a low growl he lifted her back into his arms, pressing her against the wall. The feeling of his skin against her own, without the halter top to separate them, was exquisite. But it wasn’t enough—still not nearly enough.
Clasping her wrists tightly in one massive hand, he pulled her arms over her head, kissing down her body as he moved his other hand between her legs. Her earlier fear of pain was already forgotten as she moved against him, wanting to feel more. To feel him. Above her, she could hear the howl of rising wind, and she felt small drops of rain against her overheated skin. Her hair whipped wildly as she leaned her head back, hardly able to breathe, out of her mind with longing.
“I take it all back,” she gasped. “Don’t be gentle. Don’t make me wait. Take me now.”
He gave her a lazy smile as his fingers caressed her through her jeans. “You want me to take you here? Against the wall?”
“Yes. And I don’t give a damn who might see.” She only knew that if he kept stroking her through her jeans she was going to come any second.
But he didn’t make a move to pull off her jeans. Instead he kept stroking her, moving his chest against hers, plundering her mouth with his own.
“Stop,” she panted. Pushing his hand away, she strained toward him, her hands fumbling at his zipper. “I want to feel you inside me—”
“No.” He grabbed her hands. “Wait.”
A roll of thunder shattered the clouds and cold rain began to fall, splattering across the courtyard and pool. Wind howled across the desert, rattling the palm trees high above them as they stared at each other.
“I want you. But—” He blinked, as if trying to clear his mind of a fog, shaking his head like a wolf scattering water from his fur. “This is a mistake. When I make love to you again it will be in a bed...”
She saw a glimmer of hope. “My bedroom is—”
“As my wife,” he finished.
They stared at each other in the moonlight, whipped by wind and hard rain. Anna was suddenly aware that she was standing half naked, with cold, hard rain sleeting down her bare breasts.
She’d just thrown herself at him.
And he’d refused her. Her cheeks flushed with shame.
“If you wait for me to marry you, you’ll wait forever,” she retorted, blinking back angry tears. He’d only been trying to prove his power over her, and she’d fallen for it yet again. She reached down to the tiled floor and snatched up her halter top, now ruined in the rain. Her hands shook as she tied the strings in back. Her teeth chattered as she said, “Just being your mistress nearly killed me. I will never be your wife, Nikos. Never.”
Beneath the darkness of the desert storm she could barely see his face for shadows. But his voice was low and dangerous, resonant with the certainty that only came from power. “We’ll see.”
* * *
The next morning, Nikos growled at the housekeeper’s cheery greeting as she brought his breakfast to the table. She set down a cup of strong Greek coffee and a plate of eggs, bacon and toast, then left. He stared blankly at the morning editions of the Wall Street Journal and the local Review-Journal and cursed himself for a fool.