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A flicker of foreboding whispered over Grace’s skin as she realised what he was saying. He was making it clear that he wouldn’t really care when the time came for her to go. But she alreadyknewthat—all she needed to do was remember it. She was never intended to be here for the long haul. First there would be the wedding, followed by a brief honeymoon and after that they would be jetting off to Tuloranka.
As man and wife.
The firing of her pulse bore testimony to her state of excitement, which just kept growing, no matter how much she tried to contain it. But who could blame her? How could you possibly look at a man like Odysseus and do anything but desire him?
Did he know that?
Was he aware that, physically, she was completely in his thrall?
Forcing her gaze away from the distraction of his carved features, she stared down at the little cove, where the transparent water lapped so invitingly against the shore, thinking about the dizzy action of the last few days.
She’d said a tearful farewell to Kirsty and Sophia while being deliberately evasive about her rapid engagement, suspecting her protective friends might have attempted to talk her out of the marriage if they’d known the cold-blooded truth about the contractual arrangement. They would have flagged up the potential for getting hurt—a potential which hadn’t escaped her. Until she thought about Nana and the financial security Odysseus was offering. She was doing this for her grandmother, she reminded herself fiercely, and nobody was going to talk her out of it.
Thankfully, the trip to the Contarini house had passed by without incident. The hulking presence of a Greek bodyguard had helped, though he’d been safely out of earshot when Grace had asked Maria to convey the message to Vincenzo that she would like to say goodbye. But the old man had refused to see her, and, though she’d told herself it was for the best, it didn’t lessen her sadness that her time there should have ended on such a sour note.
And yet the sadness had been quickly replaced by a rush of gratitude and excitement as it began to sink in that she reallywasfree.
‘I have missed you,’ said Odysseus suddenly and Grace turned round to see him watching her.
His unexpected words took her by surprise but, although it had only been a couple of days, she had missed him too. ‘Have you?’ she prompted, her throat thick with longing.
‘Neh.I have ached for you,poulaki mou. These last two nights I have barely slept, thinking about your incredible body and how good it feels to be inside you,’ he admitted huskily. ‘And I want to take you to bed,’ he concluded hungrily. ‘As quickly as possible.’
She wanted him to illustrate the fervency of his words with some action on top of that windswept hill—surely the most stunning spot in the world for a passionate kiss—but all he did was lace her fingers with his and lead her back towards the villa, as if this were nothing but a continuation of her guided tour.
Doing her best to conceal her disappointment, Grace entered the air-conditioned cool of the house, angry with herself for feeling that way. Because only someone extremely stupid would wish he hadn’t been quite so clinical about his physical needs.
Don’t expect romance, she told herself, remembering his coldly emphatic words.
Yet when they reached the vast white bedroom, with its full-length terrace overlooking the dazzling blue sea, she wondered if she had been wrong in her assessment, because this didn’t feel in the least bit clinical. His kiss was slow and searching, his removal of her sundress almost leisurely—so that by the time she was easing his jeans down over the daunting ridge of his erection, Grace was breathless with burning need. With the tentative whisper of her fingertips, she touched him intimately, and as she saw him grow harder before her eyes, she failed to hold back the instinctive note of wonder in her voice.
‘How eager you are,poulaki mou,’ he observed unsteadily.
Her question was uncertain. ‘Do you like me being eager?’
‘I like it very much,’ he affirmed softly, the flicker of an arrogant smile playing at the edges of his lips. ‘It means you are taking your tuition seriously.’
She wanted to tell him not to be so damnedpatronising, but she wasn’t going to ruin the mood by being picky about a definition. And besides, he was scooping her up into his arms and carrying her across the bedroom, laying her down carefully on the bed, his fingers lightly stroking her naked flesh and his mouth trailing a teasing line of kisses from breast to belly, until she was wriggling with frustration.
‘Don’t be so impatient,’ he chided softly.
‘It’s hard not to be,’ she answered truthfully. You’re so bloody gorgeous.’
‘You are always…’ above her puckering nipple, his finger momentarily stilled, but his deep voice was filled with something like amusement ‘…so totally without guile.’
Hadn’t he said the very same thing in the ballroom in Venice? ‘And is that a good thing, or a bad thing?’ she ventured cautiously.
‘You just must take care not to be vulnerable, Grace, that is all.’
A different note had entered his voice now. Hard and implacable, it was very definitely a warning, and she knew he was right. But could she honestly be any more vulnerable than she was at this moment? When she was lying there naked, just waiting for him to make love to her, her whole body quivering with expectation. He had placed each of his thighs against her hips, so that she was enclosed within those powerful legs, and she felt safe within their warm anchor. His body was taut with tension, his desire almost palpable. Yet still he didn’t move and this momentary restraint seemed significant. Was he demonstrating his awesome powers of self-control? she wondered dazedly.
But suddenly a low groan of hunger erupted from his lips as he spread open her thighs and entered her and every thought was obliterated by the blissful sensation of having him inside her again. Grace clung to his shoulders as he made thrust after thrust, unprepared for the welling up of something nameless inside her as the excitement built to an incredible crescendo. And wasn’t she grateful that her orgasm chose that moment to ambush her—swift and sharp and sweet? So that the choking cry she uttered sounded like sexual satisfaction, rather than the helpless words of emotion which were hovering dangerously on her lips.
He buried his face in her neck, his breathing warm and ragged, and she must have fallen asleep, because when she woke he was no longer beside her. He was standing at the window, naked, his back to her as he stared out at the blue sweep of the sea—like an emperor surveying his domain. Still revelling in the afterglow of sex, she allowed herself a few moments of silent contemplation just to drink in his beauty. The broad shoulders and muscle-rippled back. Those narrow hips and endlessly long legs.
‘Hello,’ she said sleepily.
In the split second which followed her murmured greeting, Odysseus took the time to compose himself, impatient with himself for allowing her to orchestrate this inexplicable change to his mood and trying to talk himself out of it. There wasn’t anythingspecialabout her, he reasoned savagely. She didn’t possess some other-worldly power which had made him feel as if she had touched his icy heart with the fiery heat of her passion.