A slithery, slinky thread of tension began to crawl up her front. If she could she would look away from him because those eyes of his were downright mesmeric and there was something terribly alluring about the stern shape of his lips.
She parted her lips to say something but he gave an infinitesimal shake of his dark head. She knew he was going to kiss her. She could read the dark message of intent plucking at each tiny breath that she took. There was no point by which they were touching other than his light grip on her chin yet the full force of his formidably masculine sensuality still managed to beat over her in waves. The tips of her breasts were tingling, their small, rounded cups filling with the most excruciatingly tender flood of heat. She should move away from him, break the physical connection, but the alarming thing was that she was standing here waiting for him to kiss her.
He moved his thumb to run it gently over her bottom lip and the flesh there bloomed with heat. A wry kind of smile softened the grimness from his own mouth as if he knew about the heat and what it meant. Without knowing she was going to do it, she ran the tip of her tongue across the same place, tracking the trail of his thumb. Light flared in his eyes. The air seemed to still, the dome of bright, twinkling stars above them dimmed then darkened altogether. It was just the two of them standing here in the all-consuming darkness trapped by an energy that circled them like a ring.
His expression was so sombre, his gaze so intense, and he towered over her, wide-shouldered, hard-muscled and breathtakingly male. She knew she should be breaking free from this but still she didn’t do it. It was appalling and shameful and pride-crushingly weak of her but she just stood there in front of him with her eyes drowning in his eyes and her lips parted, waiting for his kiss.
He murmured something about spellbinding nymphs, then it came, just the lightest touch of his tongue tip against the corner of her mouth and Zoe was startled by the force of pleasure that poured into her blood. Her fingers jerked up to grab hold of his shirt either side of his taut waist. The heat coming from him was stunning, as was the intimacy with which she absorbed his slight intake of breath.
‘Ah, Anton, you have arrived at last,’ a pleased voice said.
CHAPTER SEVEN
THE two of them sprang apart like guilty lovers caught out enjoying a clandestine tryst. Burning flames licked across Zoe’s fair skin as she turned her head and stared dizzily at Anthea, who was standing on the terrace, her rounded shape lit from by the soft light spilling out from the open windows behind her.
Anton sizzled out a curse beneath his breath, released Zoe’s chin then stepped around her with the cool swiftness of a man intent on honing the housekeeper’s attention onto him. ‘Good evening, Anthea,’ he greeted smoothly as he strode forward. ‘Am I too late for dinner?’
‘Of course not,’ said the housekeeper. ‘Kostas rang to tell me you were walking home along the beach.’ The older woman received an affectionate brush of his lips against her cheek. ‘How long do you need to shave that prickly beard off your face? Thespinis Kanellis must be starving, for she has not eaten since she arrived.’
‘Give me ten minutes to make myself presentable for the dinner table,’ she heard Anton say as the two of them walked into the house, leaving Zoe standing alone in the darkness struggling to cool the heat from her face.
I almost ate him, she thought in horror. What did she think she was playing at? What was he playing at?
Dragging a large gulp of warm, sultry air into her lungs, she let it all out again. Being around Anton Pallis was like balancing on a knife edge; she never knew which way she was going to fall off it or whether she was going to cut herself on his sharp edge.
There was nothing sharp about the pulsing throb currently in control of her body; Zoe mocked herself. Right now her lips felt soft and hot, pumped up and trembling with frustrated anticipation. She lifted a hand up to press her fingers against the throb. It just had to stop, she told herself. She had to climb off this crazy emotional swing she was riding on which thrust her from dislike to desire with the lowest point churning into a potent mixture of both.
Dinner turned into a strained affair, with Anton trying his best to make polite conversation and Zoe trying her best to find light responses while Anthea fussed around them like a mother hen.
He offered Zoe wine but she refused, preferring to stick to spring water because she was already feeling intoxicated enough—by him. And her stomach, which had been crying out for sustenance half an hour ago, was now in a state of flux, not wanting to accept the small amount of the delicious creations she did manage to swallow.
Complaining that Zoe did not eat enough to keep a bird alive, the housekeeper removed barely touched dishes and doggedly replaced them with new ones. As soon as the whole ordeal was over, Zoe escaped to bed as soon as she could.
She tried to sleep but she couldn’t. She was a churned up, overwrought mess. And it was too quiet. She was used to the sounds of the city serenading her to sleep. The bed was too big and too soft; she was used to being weighted down by a heavy duvet not a couple of starched-white sheets.
And she’d had to leave her bedroom door open, as with Toby’s door, because she was afraid she might not hear him when he awoke. What had become an ordinary routine in her own little house felt wrong in this house, as if leaving the door open was like offering an invitation.
Wishful thinking, Zoe? a horrible little voice inside her head taunted her.
‘Oh, just shut up,’ she told it crossly, tossing over in the bed.
She was actually glad when the first whimpering sounds of her brother wakening filtered over to her bed. Finger-combing her tangled hair as she walked, she padded across the landing and into her brother’s room just as his whimpers upped the volume into loud cries for attention.
‘OK, OK,’ she murmured soothingly, leaning over the cot to lift him out. ‘Hungry, hmm?’ She smiled down at him as she walked across to the fridge.
Resting Toby in the cradle of one arm, she rocked him while she prepared his bottle, talking softly to him as she did, the routine second nature to her now.
A sound coming from the bedroom doorway made her glance around. ‘Oh,’ she said.
Anton was standing there wearing a pair of white boxers and a short grey robe he had not bothered to close around the hair-shadowed power in his muscled torso. The fact that she had not bothered to pull on a robe before leaving her bedroom plucked at her senses, making her acutely aware of how she must look.
‘He woke me up,’ he said, seemingly oblivious to his own state of undress, covering a yawn with the back of his hand. ‘Where is Martha? I arranged for her to be here to do the inconvenient stuff.’
‘I sent her to bed.’ Turning away, Zoe went back to what she had been doing. ‘She’s swatting for exams and needs her sleep. And taking care of my brother is not inconvenient,’ she added, keeping her voice even because Toby had stopped crying and was listening to her with his dark eyes fixed intently on her face. ‘I love ca
ring for you.’ She smiled down at the baby.
One of those silences he was so good at developing filled the space between them. Zoe wished he would go away but he didn’t. He just remained where he was, leaning now against the doorframe watching her as she continued with what she was doing with one-handed efficiency.