Of the few facts they had about him, that he was a wealthy Italian was at the forefront of her mind often. And now she’d fallen in love with a super wealthy guy from a stunning Mediterranean island. Like she’d sworn she never would.
“Careful, I’ll start demanding you address me as Your Majesty.”
“I would call you anything you asked of me, Mrs Petrides.”
Mrs Petrides. What a beautiful sound that had to it!
“Would you do anything I asked of you, too?” She said with a small smile.
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“Well,” his voice was throaty. “That depends on what it is.”
She pulled at her dress, unzipping it at the side so that it floated down her body and she could step out of it easily. She wore the lacy white underpants the stylist had delivered, and no bra. “I saw a pool when we drove up. Is it private?”
“Ne,” his eyes glittered as he allowed himself the pleasure of looking at her.
“Excellent. Swim with me.”
“It would be my pleasure, Your Majesty,” he teased.
Sophie’s heart turned over. It had been a whirlwind, all right, but that didn’t make it any less right nor perfect. Life had a habit of throwing curve balls and there was no way she was going to be foolish enough to pass this one up. What should she have done? Waited a sensible period of time as Ava had urged? For once, she was channelling her inner Olivia, and throwing any kind of caution to the wind.
“I’m so glad I married you,” she said with a spark of pleasure as she stared up at him.
His eyes widened with apparent surprise and then he leaned down and scooped her up, carrying her small frame easily over one shoulder.
“Hey!” She laughed, punching him playfully. “I can walk you know.”
“You walk beautifully, my love, but this way I get to touch you as we go.” And to prove his point, he moved his hands to her rear, and cupper her buttocks.
But Sophie didn’t react at first. She was momentarily struck by a dawning realisation.
My love. It had sounded strangely discordant and unusual coming from his mouth, and she immediately understood why.
He had never said that word to her. Or specifically, those three words. Had she said it to him? She searched her mind and recalled having uttered I love you several times, often after they’d made love and she was in the throes of falling back to earth after an unimaginable pleasure. But she’d said it at other times, too. When they were discussing the wedding and where they’d live initially. When they were walking hand and hand from his house to Helena’s. She’d said it often.
And he hadn’t.
He eased her down to the ground, his hands running over her body with possessive intent. “You are beautiful.” It was a growl from the base of his throat; a deep sound laced with admiration and disbelief.
“So are you.”
He shrugged out of his shirt, then stepped out of his pants. He’d worn a suit to the wedding. A crisp black suit with a stark white shirt. He’d been stunning. The most glorious sight she’d ever beheld.
She traced her bright red nails over his chest now, and almost moaned aloud as her body began to ache with a throbbing need for him.
“Are you ready?”
“Ready?” She asked guiltily, wondering if she’d spoken her needs out loud.
“To swim,” he murmured, lifting her up and cradling her against his chest. This time, she resisted pointing out that he didn’t need to carry her. Her heart was turning over with anticipation, but it had nothing to do with the idea of sinking into the warm, clear water.
“That too,” he agreed with a slow-spreading smile, showing how perfectly he understood her.
He stepped into the pool, holding Sophie as though she were a feather. The water was deliciously warm against her skin, kept that way courtesy of the bright Mediterranean sunshine and its sheltered position from winds.
“Look at that view,” she said with true wonderment.