‘Is it what you want, Mel? Tell me truly. If it isn’t, then you must say now. Because, to be honest...’
Now the humour was back again, and she could hear a touch of self-mockery, too, and was warmed by it.
‘I’m not sure I’ve got the strength of mind or character to walk you back to your room and not come in with you—’
She glanced up at him, with a similar self-mocking wry humour in her own eyes. ‘I’m not sure I’ve got the strength of mind or character to stop you coming in,’ she told him. ‘In fact...’ She bit her lip. ‘I strongly suspect I’d yank you inside my room even if you were being strong-minded—’
He gave a low laugh, and Mel could hear the relief in it. The satisfaction. She gave an answering laugh as they headed off through the gardens, back towards their rooms, towards what both of them knew would happen now...
There was a pool of darkness nearby, where the light of the low-set lamps that lined the stone pathway did not reach, and she felt him draw her into it with a swift, decisive movement. His hand tightened on hers and the other drew her round to face him. He was close...so close to her.
She felt her heart give a little leap and that electric current came again, sizzling through her body. She could not see his expression, but she knew what it was...what it must be...what hers must be. He was dim against the night, against the stars...
Unconsciously, instinctively, she lifted her face to his. His free hand slid to cup her throat, to tilt her face higher. She felt the smooth, gliding pressure of his fingers—their warmth, their sensuous touch. Felt her heart beating wildly now, her breath catch.
He was standing with his legs slightly apart, a dominating male stance, one hand still gripping hers, the other fastened to her with a strong, sensuous hold, the pad of his thumb on the delicate line of her jaw.
His long dark lashes dipped low over his eyes, glinting in the starlight. ‘Well, if that’s your attitude...’ his voice was low and husky, and it made her bones weaken ‘...I’d better not disappoint you, had I?’
For a moment—just a moment—he delayed, and the pad of his thumb moved to her mouth, gliding leisurely across her lips. Her bones weakened further and her pulse quickened. With every fibre of her being she wanted him to kiss her...wanted to feel the warm pressure of his mouth...wanted the sweet taste of him...
‘Nikos...’
She must have murmured his name, must have half closed her eyes, waiting, longing for his mouth to swoop and descend, to take hers in its silken touch.
His fingers wound in hers and his thumb slipped away now, his fingers touching at her throat, her jaw, gentling, caressing. And then finally...finally...his mouth descended to hers. Kissing her softly, sweetly, sensuously.
Endlessly.
She folded into him. A gesture as natural, as instinctive as the way her mouth opened to his. She wanted to feel the fullness of his kiss, the full bliss of it, as every part of her body dissolved into it.
Beneath the glint and glitter of the stars, in the soft, warm air, with the perfume of the night-scented flowers the susurration of the cicadas all around, his kiss went on and on. Claiming her, arousing her, calling forth from her all that she would bestow upon him that night, telling of all that he would give to her.
When his lips finally left hers she felt as if she was still in his embrace—as if she were floating inches off the ground and as if her heart were soaring around like a fluttering bird. He led her down the path to his room and then they were inside, in the cool, air-conditioned dimness. No light was needed—only the pale glow from the phosphorescence of the open sea beyond the windows.
He took her into his arms again, slipping his hands around her slender waist, cradling her supple spine as she leant into him, offering him her mouth...herself.
His kiss deepened, seeking all that it could find, and she offered all that she could give, her lips moving beneath his, her mouth opening to his in a rush of sweet, sensuous bliss. She could feel the blood surge in her veins, the heat fan out across her body, as she leant into him to taste, and take, and give, and yield.
She could feel him gliding the jacket from her shoulders, his warm hands slipping down her bared arms, and then she was pulling away from him slightly, and in a single fluid movement lifting the dress from her body, shaking her hair free of its band, giving a glorious, breathless laugh of pleasure, of anticipation.
As Nikos’s eyes feasted on her she stood there, clad only in bra and panties, and a heady recklessness consumed her. Wordlessly she slipped the buttons of his shirt, easing her hands across the strong, warm column of his body. He caught her hands, his breath a rasp in his throat, and then he was folding her arms gently back, using the same movement to haul her against him, his mouth dipping to the soft, ripe swell of her breasts.