Everything was pushed out of her mind, clearing it to only him; his hot, lightly coffee-scented breath, his warm strong fingers, the heat unfurling from him and moving through her aching body. Sensation threaded everywhere...right through to the soles of her feet and the delicate skin of her eyelids.
She gripped his jacket, then reached up to wind her arms around his neck, the tips of her fingers skimming the smooth skin and rubbing against the soft bristles running up from his nape.
Deepening the kiss, he dropped his hand from her cheek to snake it around her waist, breaching that final physical distance between them so she stood flush against him, lost to everything but the rush of his deeply sensuous assault.
And then he jerked away and the kiss was broken.
Ramming his hands into his jeans pockets, he closed his eyes and swore. ‘I apologise,’ he said, his jaw clenched, his breathing heavy. ‘I never meant for that to happen.’
‘Neither did I,’ she said quietly. She looked away, not wanting him to see the enormous dollop of guilt she knew must be reflected in her eyes.
‘You’re driving me crazy,’ he said, with such starkness her gaze flew back to him.
Hunger. That was what she saw. His hunger for her.
She was slipping into dangerous waters and had no idea how to navigate her way out, a task made harder by the fact that her body throbbed from head to toe. She knew if he were to touch her again she would respond with the same wantonness.
How could she have allowed him to kiss her when she was keeping such a huge secret from him? Even if he knew about Toby it would be madness to think anything could happen between them. In a few months he would be searching for a bride. A royal bride.
She was as far removed from his ideal of the perfect royal bride as possible.
He held her gaze a beat longer before striding to the door and yanking it open.
His eyes flashed as he said, ‘I suggest we leave now, because if you keep looking at me like that, I will not be responsible for the consequences.’
Jo paused for far too long, desire waging war with common sense.
Common sense clinched the victory.
She held her breath as she slipped past him, then followed him in silence out into the clear spring evening.
Her lips still burned from his kiss.
When he’d made love to her on Illya he’d been drunk.
This time he’d kissed her when he was sober. He desired her.
It shouldn’t have made a difference.
It made all the difference in the world.
* * *
That had been the journey from hell, Theseus thought as Nikos brought the car to a stop.
What had he been thinking, kissing her like that?
He hadn’t been thinking. At least not with his brain.
It had been that expression in her eyes that had done it for him, that open, wide-eyed desire.
Theos, how could any man look into those eyes and not want to drown in them?
Sitting in the back of the car for twenty minutes with her so close had been tantamount to torture. They hadn’t exchanged a word.
He ran through all the reasons why he couldn’t allow anything to happen between them. Or he tried to.
He couldn’t think of one good reason why he shouldn’t make love to her when every ounce of his being burned for her touch...
Because Jo wants more than you can ever give.
His spine stiffened as he recalled the promise he’d made to her on Illya. The promise he’d broken. Try as he might to ignore it, the guilt ate at him.
Jo wasn’t the type of woman to go in for casual flings. She just wasn’t. He’d known that five years ago but had allowed his desire and the emotions that had racked him that dark night to take over.
He would not do it again, would not take advantage of a woman who needed more from a lover than a solitary night. He could never offer her anything more, especially not now, when marriage loomed ever closer.
He might desire her, but he would control it.
Whatever the night might bring.
* * *
Club Giroud was one of the best kept secrets on Agon, open twenty-four-seven and located in a deceptively shabby secluded stone building near the top of Agon’s highest mountain. No casual passer-by would guess that inside, at any one time, were dozens of the world’s richest people and a fleet of parked cars collectively worth millions of dollars.
The interior was an entirely different matter.
They were met at the door by the concierge, who’d been watching out for them. Puffed up with importance at one of the royal Princes paying the establishment a visit, the man led them through a cavernous golden-hued dining hall, filled with beautiful, thin, chic women and men of varying shapes and sizes, all of whom turned their heads to stare at them. The concierge took them past the sweeping staircase that led up to the club itself, and outside to the sprawling terrace.