She had her past. He’d seen snatches of it from the file Raul had created. Grainy pictures and the hidden treasure she’d permitted him to glimpse. Though no matter how deeply he delved he’d never unwrap all of her, wound in mystery as she was.
‘It’s a warning. One you should heed.’
He should send her away, safe to her room. Drink some more and drown out the dreams which lured him to purgatory each night.
‘Goodnight, Thea.’
He was close to her now. How they’d moved together he couldn’t tell. Were they his steps or hers?
She reached up, hesitated. Her slender hand hovered in the space between them. Then her eyes dropped to his mouth and she touched him. A tentative brush on his jaw. The burn of anticipation for things he’d never take roared through him. If he stood there, unmoving, she’d stop. He’d allow her this faltering exploration. Succumb to weakness and accept her soft caresses. It was all he could ever allow himself.
She traced his bottom lip, and the sting of pleasure rippled through him as her searching fingers trapped his gusting breaths. Her gaze followed everywhere she touched. Like his throat, where she hesitated on the pulse of his heart slamming into his ribs. Her lips tilted. Then cool fingers on heated flesh traced the muscles of his chest, as if the wonders of the universe were written in Braille on his skin. The merest brush over his nipple made his breath hitch.
His eyes drifted shut, trying to lock her out. Still her hand explored every ridge of his abdomen, till he was on fire. An inferno threatened to devour him.
He snapped his hand over hers. ‘Stop.’
Every part of him screamed for her to go on. He’d never craved anything more. Atlas Shipping? He’d sign it all away for her fingers to continue their cartography of his body. But she wasn’t his. He wouldn’t take her.
He opened his eyes. Hers were heavy-lidded, with a sultry golden glow. She stepped back, slid her hand from under his. Broke their touch. The loss of her was immediate and brutal. But a quiet, knowing smile tilted the corners of her mouth.
Thea reached around and drew down the tiny zipper at the back of her dress. Christo watched the mirror behind her, as if in slow motion. Each notch of the zip punched another hit of lust into his gut. She tugged at the bow holding the halter neck and shrugged the dress free. Red lace slithered over her body, caressing each curve as it fell. She stood there. Bare except for the glittering heels and the tiny scrap of a G-string covering the apex of her thighs. The dress swirled at her feet, the colour of blood.
That should be his blood on the floor. His sacrifice to this goddess, all honeyed skin and slender waist and perfect breasts, her nipples taut and ripe. Ready for him.
‘Thea...’ His voice rasped, unrecognisable. A plea? A prayer of thanks? He couldn’t tell. He wanted all she was offering. Wanted to consume her. But he’d leave nothing behind if he had his way.
‘Please, Christo...’
He shook his head, trembling with the effort of ignoring the desire raging through him. ‘Not for me.’
‘You’re worth it.’
He wasn’t. But those words... They broke him.
He strode forward. Wrapped his arms around her and grasped the smooth, warm flesh under his hands. Her skin was warm satin against his palms. She melted into him. Sighed as he took her lips with his. His tongue plundered her luscious mouth. She was tentative at first, before softening into the rhythm, willing and hungry.
She lifted her hands to his hair and he shivered at the scrape of her fingernails against his scalp. He slipped his hands to her buttocks, round and bare, holding her against his hard, aching body.
She ground against him, mewling and desperate. If he didn’t get her to the bed soon they’d both finish here. He hooked his fingers into her flimsy underwear, slid it past her hips and let it fall to the floor. He battled with the fly of his trousers and cast them aside with his briefs. Thank God he was only half dressed, so he wouldn’t have to waste more time. He was a wreck of desire.
He swept Thea into his arms and lowered her onto the bed. She scrambled back against the pillows, her body splayed out like an offering. Waiting. He slid a hand along the smooth swell of her calf. She dropped her head back and moaned. He eased off one stiletto, and then the other, all the while indulging in a visual feast of her golden skin and luxurious curves. Glowing, wanton and perfect.
‘I’m coming for you, Thea.’
She shivered as he crawled over the top of her, his vision fogged by the red roar of arousal. Her dusky pink nipples peaked in hard points. He bent down and lavished one with the attention of his tongue. Her low cries of pleasure pierced the room. She smelled of spices and musk. Exotic. Delectable. Driving him on. Driving him to madness.
He was so hard he’d shatter before long. And Thea’s body trembled at each touch. He needed her warm softness to envelop him. His mouth watered at the thought of the night ahead. Devouring her body. Pleasuring her till dawn. Taking the pleasure he’d denied himself. Now she was his.
He lay next to her, sliding his hand down her stomach, easing his fingers into the dark triangle of hair at the apex of her thighs, exploring the hot, plush folds of her. She arched into him as he stroked her there. He wanted to watch her fall apart, but that would be the end of him. She was everything. Too much. Like a dream he’d awoken into.
He rolled away. Grappled with protection. If he let her touch him he’d explode. He moved over her again. Settled between trembling thighs which had fallen open for him. He was beyond sanity, almost
