Loukas handed her a clean handkerchief that smelled of his aftershave and was warm from being housed close to his body. She buried her head in its citrus scented folds and allowed herself a couple of noisy sobs. One of his hands went to the back of her head and moved in slow, soothing strokes from the top of her scalp to the base of her neck, sending shudders of reaction through her body. Then he lifted her hair and brought his hand against the nape of her neck, his fingers warm and gentle as they moved through the fine hairs there, sending delicious currents of electricity to the core of her being.
When had anyone ever comforted her like this? Daniel had never been the cuddle-and-comfort type, which was understandable, now she knew how awkward it had made him feel. But even her mother wasn’t great at affection. The best she got from her mother was an air kiss and a hug that lasted no longer than a blink. When had anyone ever just sat with her and held her? Loukas’s hug made her feel safe and protected from the crazy world outside.
Emily slowly lifted her head out of the handkerchief and focussed her gaze on his dark inscrutable one. She bit her lower lip. ‘Hormones. Sorry.’
A ghost of a smile flickered at one side of his mouth and his hand moved to cradle her cheek, his thumb stroking back and forth in a barely touching movement that set her facial nerves dancing. His eyes became hooded and he slipped his gaze to her mouth, lingering there for an infinitesimal moment. Emily sent the tip of her tongue out over her lips in a darting movement, unable to stop the impulse even though she knew it was a primary signal of arousal.
The air tightened. Crackling with possibilities. Erotic possibilities that made her blood tick and her heart trip.
His thumb moved to her bottom lip, stroking along it like someone smoothing out a tiny crease in silk. It was as if every nerve in her lip rose to the surface, swelling, pulsing, heating against the pad of his thumb. ‘You have the most beautiful mouth.’ Loukas’s voice was so deep it sounded as though it had come from beneath the floor.
Emily touched his face with her uninjured hand, losing herself in the depths of his deep-brown gaze with its fringe of inky lashes. His eyes were so dark she couldn’t tell where his pupils began and ended. ‘What are we doing, Loukas?’ Her voice was not much more than a whisper.
His warm breath wafted over her lips. ‘This is what we’re doing.’ And his mouth came down on hers.
His lips moved with sensual expertise over her mouth, rediscovering its contours, drawing from her a response that made her blood sing in her veins.
Emily’s hands crept up his chest and then linked around his neck, her body pressing closer to the warm, hard heat of his. His tongue stroked over the seam of her mouth and she opened to him on a sigh of pleasure. The glide of his tongue was just as intoxicating as the first time he’d kissed her. It sent every female hormone in her body into paroxysms of excitement. His tongue found hers and cajoled it into play, teasing it, stroking it, chasing it. Seducing it. Loukas’s hands settled on her hips, holding her close to his body, where his blood pumped and his flesh surged. She moved against him instinctively, driven by primal urges she had no control over. He angled his head to deepen the kiss, one of his hands coming up from her waist to cup the side of her face, his fingers splaying through her hair.
He nudged against her lips and then nibbled the lower one until she was whimpering against his mouth. She sent her hands through the thick silk of his hair, tugging and releasing the slight curls, delighting in the way he made deep, guttural sounds of approval.
One of his hands went to her breast but their hormone-induced sensitivity sent her jerking back from him. ‘Ouch!’
He looked down at her, frowning in concern. ‘Did I hurt you?’
She winced. ‘My breasts are really tender. It’s the hormones.’
His hands settled back on her waist as gently as if she were made of gossamer. ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t realise. Are you okay?’
‘I’m fine...’
Loukas stepped back from her with a rueful grimace. ‘It’s probably a good time to stop before things get out of hand.’ He rubbed a hand over his face as if trying to recalibrate himself. ‘This is turning out to be one hell of a night.’
Tell me about it.
Emily watched as he moved across to the window to check the street outside. ‘Are they still there?’
He let the curtain drop back into place. ‘No, but I still think you should come back to my hotel with me.’
‘Surely that’s not necessary?’
Something about his expression made her realise once he made up his mind it would not be changed without a fight. Even with a fight. ‘Humour me, Emily. I know what the press are like. They’ll be here first thing and hounding you for an exclusive.’
‘I won’t speak to them so—’
‘You won’t be able to help yourself.’ His mouth had a wry slant to it. ‘You’d be too worried about being rude. Before you know it, you’ll be inviting them in for coffee and home-baked cookies and telling them your life story.’
Emily pressed her lips together, not sure she cared for his summation of her character. So she had a loose tongue at times? So what if she over-shared occasionally? It was only when she was nervous. And how did he know she had home-baked cookies in the house? He was making her out to be some sort of nineteen-fifties throwback, complete with frilled pinafore and polka-dotted headscarf. ‘I’m not going to be able to avoid them for ever. I can’t stay at your hotel indefinitely. You’re only here for a week in any case.’
He looked at her for a long moment.
‘Why are you looking at me like that?’ she asked.
‘I want you to come back to Corfu with me.’
Her stomach dropped like an anchor. ‘What?’
‘Just until the press interest dies down,’ he said. ‘My villa is secure from media intrusion. You can rest up without the constant threat of having a camera or microphone thrust in your face. We can stay there until the ceremony.’