‘You’re so innocent. I love the fact that this is all new to you. You have much to learn, agape mou,’ he said huskily, ‘and I am delighted to be the one to teach you.’
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHANTAL woke to find the bed empty and no sign of Angelos.
Even without glancing at her watch she knew it was late.
Hot sun shone through the open bedroom doors, illuminating the room like a stage set, and from outside by the pool she could hear the low hum of male voices.
Obviously the physical demands of the night and the complete absence of sleep hadn’t affected him at all.
Memories flooded back into her head with embarrassing clarity.
It had been like being caught in the focus of an earthquake, watching helplessly as everything familiar had crumbled around her. She’d had no control over her reactions. She hadn’t recognised herself.
Covering her face with her hands, she gave a groan of disbelief as she forced herself to face the uncomfortable truth.
She had made love with a man she barely knew. Again and again. And then again.
And not just any man. A man with more wealth than she could possibly imagine. A billionaire. Which made the situation a hundred times worse as far as she was concerned.
Hadn’t she always promised herself that she would never have that sort of relationship? Not when she, of all people, knew what such a relationship meant.
She’d come here on her own terms, living by her own rules. And now everything had changed. Sex had shifted the balance. Instead of being a guest, she was—she was—
What was she? His mistress? His lover?
It didn’t really matter what she called herself, because the reality was that technically she was now a kept woman. She was on his territory, living by his rules. He was paying for her. She was staying in his villa, eating his food, swimming in his pool, luxuriating in his bathroom—
Her breathing suddenly increased and she sat upright in bed, faintly panicky as the reality of her situation sank in.
She’d let a man buy her.
All right, he hadn’t actually given her cash, but she was using his hospitality, which amounted to the same thing, and she couldn’t allow that to carry on. Not for one moment did she fool herself into believing that the money she’d given him anywhere near covered their expenses so far.
Which meant that she had to leave.
How could she stay when staying went against everything she believed in? He wanted sex from her, that was all. Sex.
She became conscious of every delicious ache and tingle in her body and she glanced at the rumpled sheets, admitting to herself that her reluctance to leave wasn’t all to do with his father.
She was crazy about Angelos.
What woman wouldn’t be?
But it wasn’t an equal relationship, was it? And she’d always promised herself that this wasn’t going to happen to her.
* * *
Angelos had drained his third cup of coffee and was trying to concentrate on what his father was saying when Chantal stepped hesitantly onto the terrace.
No one looking at her could have been in any doubt as to how she’d spent the previous night. Her eyes were adorably sleepy, her mouth was soft and bruised, and the haphazard way that her blonde hair had been pinned to the top of her head suggested that her hands hadn’t been quite steady at the time.
The simple pair of shorts she’d elected to wear simply accentuated her ridiculously narrow waist and the generous curve of her hips. She somehow managed to ooze sexuality and innocence at the same time, and the combination was intoxicating.
His mind suddenly wiped of all coherent thought, Angelos endeavoured to recall exactly why he’d opted to join his father for breakfast when there had been suc
h a good reason for staying in bed. Looking at her now, he cursed his generosity in allowing her to sleep, wishing instead that he’d woken her up and continued his exploration of her exquisite body with the benefit of full daylight.