Which wasn’t surprising.
What was surprising was how disappointed he felt.
Why should he be disappointed when she was simply doing what her sex was programmed to do?
* * *
Exhausted after a night without sleep and a day spent on her feet in the heat, Chantal lay on the sun lounger, sipping an iced drink and listening as Costas Zouvelekis entertained her with stories of Angelos as a child.
‘—and he was so competitive. Always he had to win.’ Costas gave a wry smile at the memory. ‘If he found something difficult, then he just set his jaw and tried again until he succeeded.’
‘I hope you’re not showing her baby pictures.’ A deep, dark drawl came from behind them, and Chantal turned and saw Angelos standing there, a sardonic expression in his eyes as he watched them.
He looked so sleek and handsome that her stomach dropped like an express elevator with a major technical fault.
Watching her reaction with an approving smile, Costas stood up. ‘I’m going to have a short rest before dinner.’
Angelos watched him walk across the terrace and into the villa and then his gaze swivelled back to Chantal. ‘I missed you today.’ His eyes dropped to her mouth, and for a moment she couldn’t breathe. Her body heated in an instantaneous response that shocked her. The attraction between them was so powerful that it obliterated everything else. And it didn’t matter how much she tried to control it, she just wanted him now.
‘You missed me?’
‘Did you doubt it?’ His voice was low and seductive and he sat down on the edge of her lounger. The width of his shoulders blocked out the sun, and for a moment she was in the shade unable to think of anything except the differences between them. Her legs were creamy and smooth. In contrast his thighs were strong and well muscled, shadowed by dark hairs that simply emphasised his masculinity. Male and female—the contrast between them increased the sexual heat still further.
‘Did you work today?’ She shifted her gaze from his legs to his face and then wished she hadn’t because the dark stubble that hazed his jaw was just another indication of his virility.
‘I tried to, but I confess my concentration was a little lacking.’ His eyes were hooded, the sudden curve of his mouth slow and seductive. ‘Are you tired?’
‘Tired?’
‘You had a long day—’ with his customary assurance he ran a long, bronzed finger over her trembling thigh and lingered at the curve of her knee ‘—and you didn’t have much sleep last night.’
‘Last night?’
‘You are supposed to answer me, agape mou,’ he drawled softly, ‘not just repeat everything I say like a parrot.’ But the amusement in his eyes made it clear that he was well aware of the effect he was having on her, and the fact that he knew simply increased her embarrassment.
No wonder he had a healthy ego, Chantal thought faintly, if all women were as useless at hiding their feelings as she was.
She tried to think of something cool and dismissive to say, but he was just too close for her to concentrate on speech. The density of his eyelashes made his eyes seem even darker and for a moment she just gazed at him, enraptured by the lean perfection of his bone structure and his firm, sensuous mouth. He was extravagantly, impossibly handsome and it was impossible not to stare.
With a soft laugh he leaned forward, but stopped just short of kissing her, his mouth tantalisingly close to hers. ‘If you won’t talk,’ he murmured softly, the words brushing her lips in a sensuous promise, ‘then we will have to find some other way of communicating.’
Her excitement levels soaring through the roof, Chantal gave a low moan of desperation, the anticipation of his kiss so acute that it was like a physical pain. When he finally ended the torture and captured her mouth with his, the heat erupted between them in a violent explosion of sexual chemistry.
The passion threatened to soar out of control, but this time Angelo pulled back. ‘Not here.’ His usually faultless accent was a long way short of perfect and his voice was hoarse. ‘We will go inside.’
‘No.’ Seriously disturbed by how out of control she felt when he touched her, Chantal slid away from him.
‘No?’ It was his turn to repeat her words, and he did so in such a disbelieving tone that at any other time she would have smiled. But she was a long way from smiling. Her insides were suffering from a serious case of turbulence.
‘No. We can’t. Not until we’ve sorted something out. It’s important.’
‘Ah—’ His gaze softened with understanding. ‘You are talking about contraception, but you needn’t worry. This time I promise to take very good care of you—as I did last night.’
‘I’m not talking about contraception.’ The fact that it hadn’t even occurred to her was yet another indication of just how dangerously he affected her.
His gaze was indulgent. ‘You want to show me your purchases?’
‘What purchases?’ Concentrating was impossible when everything about him made a woman want to touch: his glossy hair, his bronzed skin, the sheer masculinity of his athletic physique.