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‘But everyone comes back to Venice,’ she protested.
‘Not me,’ he contradicted softly. ‘The choice is yours, Grace. I’ve told you what you can expect and it’s the only offer on the table. Take it or leave it.’
It was the most unromantic statement imaginable but at least nobody could accuse him of falsely raising her hopes. Grace sucked in an unsteady breath, unable to ignore the insistent pulse beating low in her belly, knowing she would never forgive herself if she let this opportunity slip away.
‘I’ll take it,’ she said boldly.
CHAPTER THREE
Hishandwasrucking up the voluminous folds of her ball gown and Grace gasped as his fingers whispered over her knee.
‘Oh, please,’ she moaned helplessly, feeling the rough rasp of his jaw against her neck. ‘Odysseus. Please.’
‘With pleasure,poulaki mou.’ Taunting provocation coating every syllable, he pushed her up against the wall. ‘All you have to do is ask.’
At least the hard surface provided some sort of anchorage and Grace held her breath as his hand reached her thigh at last, his fingers impatiently pushing aside the satin and lace until they alighted on the tender skin. ‘Oh!’ she gasped, then gasped again as he located the damp panel of her knickers to brush a teasing finger over the swollen mound before making a fractional retreat. ‘Oh, please don’t stop.’
‘God, you’re responsive,’ he observed with unsteady admiration as he pushed the fabric aside and continued to stroke her.
Sweet waves of sensation tantalised and frustrated her so that even if she’d been able to think of a suitable reply, she wouldn’t have been able to choke the words out. Instinctively, she parted her thighs and he gave a low growl of approval and once again she pleaded for release—jumbled half-sentences of words she scarcely recognised because she had never thought she would everbega man for anything. His hard kiss silenced her but his hand continued to work its magic, until suddenly she was spasming violently against his fingers, hearing his soft laugh as she slumped back against the wall, and if his other hand hadn’t been wrapped tightly around her waist she might have slid to the floor.
Her eyes fluttered open at last to find his hot blue gaze raking over her and Grace realised how bizarre this scene would appear to an observer because neither of them had even removed their masks.
There hadn’t been time.
He had led her quickly through the crowded ballroom, past the gimlet eyes of that same official who had stared at her resentfully, along with several women who clearly thought they should have been in her place. She thought she’d seen Sophia moving towards them but something about Odysseus’s body language must have warned her off, because her friend had quickly taken a step back. And within several breathless minutes they had arrived in his suite, a few floors up from where the ball was still taking place. A vast, high-ceilinged series of rooms, lit only by the gleam of the canal and the moonlight outside, which picked out an abundance of gilded fittings and a huge, canopied bed.
But they hadn’t made it as far as the bed.
As he’d pulled her roughly into his arms his tricorn hat had fallen off, and his laugh had been unsteady as he’d started to kiss her. And Grace had kissed him back with a hunger which seemed to take him by surprise—as if she’d given him the green light to be as rough as he wanted. And rough seemed to be what she wanted, too. Suddenly his hands had been all over her, peeling back the layers of slithery fabric until he’d found what he was looking for, locating the sweet, wet spot where she was most vulnerable. With a carnal growl of satisfaction, he had thrummed his thumb against the swollen nub, and the resulting orgasm had been so incredible that Grace wondered if she would ever feel normal again.
Her heart was slowing down as he reached above her to turn the light on, but Grace shook her head.
‘No, don’t,’ she whispered. ‘It’s more…’
‘More what?’
She very nearly said romantic until a small voice of reason warned her against it. Because his words had made it clear this liaison was to be the very antithesis of romance. And wouldn’t extra lighting run the risk of illuminating her hopeless inexperience? ‘Atmospheric,’ she amended quickly.
‘I think what will make it more atmospheric is if we remove these damned clothes as quickly as possible,’ he said unevenly. ‘And I also think it’s about time we got rid of these, don’t you?’ He tugged off his mask and threw it aside and Grace’s breath caught at the back of her throat as she drank in the sight of his naked face.
Had she thought he looked gorgeous before? Well, that was nothing to seeing him properly for the first time. He was like some sort of god, she thought dreamily—and far too beautiful to be human. High, sculpted cheekbones contrasted with the lush sensuality of his full lips and a mane of magnificent hair which gleamed like polished jet. But it was his eyes which were the most arresting feature of all. No longer framed by the elaborate mask, they were thick-lashed and bright with desire and even in the moonlight you could see how blue they were.
‘Now you,’ he instructed throatily.
A little unsteadily, Grace pulled off first the feathered hat and then the scarlet and golden mask, carefully placing both on a nearby bureau because she had to return them to the hire company tomorrow in pristine condition and she certainly couldn’t afford to pay for replacements. She wondered if Odysseus would be disappointed with her rather ordinary face but he wasn’t actually looking at her face. His attention was elsewhere and there was nothing but hungry preoccupation tightening his features as he reached out and began to undo her tightly boned bodice. There were so many hooks that it seemed to take for ever, and she held her breath as the tension mounted, her frustration growing as his fingertips brushed against her heated flesh and then brushed away again. Closing her eyes, she squirmed her hips in silent entreaty.
‘You want me to hurry?’ he asked, his voice amused.
‘Well, yes.’ She swallowed, hostage to this incredible desire which was pulsing through her body and obliterating every other thought and feeling other than need. A need so strong that she couldn’t help but voice it. ‘If you could.’
‘You’re very greedy, aren’t you, Grace?’ he questioned, with a touch of amusement. ‘I should make you wait. For, ultimately, that will only increase the pleasure.’
She opened her mouth to tell him that if the pleasure increased any more than this, then her heart might actually stop beating. ‘I’m rather hoping you won’t,’ she told him honestly, her eyelashes fluttering open.
Her thready statement seemed to impact on the rigid self-control he must have been exercising, because now she could sense his own impatience as he finished unbuttoning the heavy dress.
‘Imagine having to do this every time you wanted sex,’ he commented wryly. ‘Those sixteenth-century aristocrats must have had gold medals in patience.’ And then he raised his eyebrows. ‘Although perhaps you’re used to this kind of undressing?’