Modern Romance November 2019 Books 1-4. Эбби Грин
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A little awkwardly, she walked over to the Christmas tree and bent to retrieve the gift she’d placed there earlier. ‘It’s not very much,’ she said as she handed it to him.
‘I’m sure it will be perfect,’ said her new husband, his voice carrying the bland reassurance of someone who was impossible to buy for.
But she saw his face change as he pulled out a small picture from within the neat folds of holly-strewn paper.
‘You don’t like it?’ she questioned anxiously as he stared at it in silence.
‘I… It’s a line drawing of Prasinisos,’ he said slowly, lifting his head to look at her. ‘Where on earth did you get it?’
‘I found it in London just before the wedding. There’s a tiny shop in an arcade close to Leicester Square station which specialises in maps and drawings of small islands. I couldn’t believe it when I saw it there. You haven’t already got it, have you?’
He shook his head as he turned it over, his thumb caressing the worn leather frame, and an odd kind of smile touched the corners of his lips. ‘No, I haven’t got it.’
‘I know it’s only—’
‘It’s not only anything,’ he corrected, almost fiercely. ‘It’s probably the most personal gift anyone has ever bought me. And now I think I’d better thank you properly, don’t you?’
Lucy smiled and bit her lip. ‘If you like.’
‘I really did think you might have learned to stop blushing by now.’ He gave a low laugh and she felt as if she’d just won the lottery. ‘Come here.’
It was a Yuletide like no other Lucy had ever experienced, but then she’d spent so many of them on her own these past few years that maybe she had simply forgotten what it was like to celebrate. For lunch they sat down to a festive feast which had been prepared for them by Spiros, the chef. There were shiny crackers and napkins embroidered with stars on the table, and shiny christopsomo bread, which was traditionally eaten on Christmas Day. The delicious loaf was flavoured with cinnamon, oranges and cloves and Drakon told her that it translated literally as ‘Christ’s bread’. Afterwards, they ate lamb with salad and a delicious walnut-covered cake called melomakarono—which was also traditional.
After retiring to their bedroom for a sex-jammed siesta, Drakon drove her to his favourite cove, a curving crescent of deepest blue, and Lucy kicked off her shoes immediately, feeling the pale, soft sand between her toes as she gazed out at the glimmering horizon. ‘I’d love to go for a swim,’ she said, a little wistfully.
‘It’s way too cold.’
‘I guess.’ She sighed. ‘Anyway, it’s pointless wishing because I haven’t brought my costume.’
‘And because only a crazy person would swim on a day like this.’
Lucy stared out at the sapphire water on which the winter sunshine was dancing in undulating lines of liquid gold, telling herself that this might be Greece but it was still winter and Drakon was probably right—only a crazy person would want to swim on Christmas Day. Yet something was compelling her to take to the water and she couldn’t work out if it was just a sense of feeling so intensely alive, or the powerful sense of hope which had been building up inside her since their plane had touched down on Prasinisos. Because despite her initial misgivings about the trip, this felt as if it was rapidly turning into a proper honeymoon. Not just the sex, which had been perfect as always—but because Drakon had revealed a chink in his steely armour and allowed her to look inside at the man beneath. He had confided stuff about his family which made her understand him a little better and didn’t that spell only positive things for their future together?
He was standing silhouetted against the shoreline, his black hair ruffled and the light breeze blowing at his linen shirt, which was tucked into a pair of faded jeans, and he looked so utterly gorgeous that a thrill of pleasure ran through her. Was that what made her feel so uninhibited? Why she suddenly peeled her sweater over her head and dropped it on the sand, before starting to unbutton her jeans?
His black eyes narrowed as the denim slid to the sand. ‘Now what are you doing?’
‘What does it look like?’
‘You’re not planning on going skinny-dipping are you, Lucy?’
She registered his tone of mocking incredulity and forced herself to focus on her smile rather than the goosebumps which greeted the removal of her jeans. ‘Why not?’ she queried innocently as she unclipped her bra and wriggled out of her knickers. ‘Didn’t you say you owned this beach and nobody ever came near it?’
She relished the look in his eyes as she turned to pound across the beach and ran into the water. She was too intent on forcing herself to plunge straight beneath the icy depths to take any notice of what Drakon might be doing, but she was curving her arm into a powerful front crawl when she realised he was swimming right beside her, black hair plastered to his head like a seal, his naked body gleaming olive-gold underneath the water. In silent acknowledgement of his unspoken challenge, Lucy set off, racing in a line parallel to the shore, and gave it everything she had. She was the strongest female swimmer she knew, but it wasn’t nearly enough to beat her powerhouse of a husband.
He made it look so effortless and was barely out of breath when eventually she swam into his waiting arms, and he laughed against her wet neck and kissed it over and over again as she wrapped her legs around his back. The exercise had given her immunity against the chilly sea and it felt perfectly natural for Drakon’s hands to begin a sensual exploration of her body beneath the surface of the water. And perfectly natural for her to do the same to him. His mouth was on hers—it tasted salty and cold and her nipples were like bullets as they pressed into his chest. A small butterfly beat of awareness at her clitoris was making itself insistently known and he gave a small groan of pleasure when she curled her fingers around his hardness.
‘I want to do it to you now,’ he whispered.
‘Then do it,’ she whispered back.
He covered her mouth with his seeking lips and Lucy’s brain just went to mush. His lips were on her neck and then her breasts. His hungry fingers were parting her aching folds and as he nudged his moist tip against her, she tightened the grip of her legs around the jut of his hips. She gasped with pleasure as he made that first thrust, tilting to accommodate the huge width of him, and the angle of his penetration made her gasp some more. She came very quickly, glad he was supporting her buttocks as he choked out his own fulfilment, and she could feel the rough rasp of his jaw as his head sank against her shoulder, his mouth pressing against her wet hair.
‘I never thought I’d make love in the sea,’ she said, once she could trust herself to speak again.
‘And your verdict?’
‘It was…okay,’ she said, and he laughed.
‘Just okay?’
She shrugged.
‘Then maybe I’d better do it to you again,’ he growled with soft intent and Lucy only pretended to run away from him.
Afterwards they swam back to shore and dressed with numb fingers, hastily pulling clothes onto their still-damp bodies. But any coldness was forgotten the moment they got back to the heated car where soft blankets were stashed on the back seat and Drakon must have arranged for Spiros to make a thermos of creamy hot chocolate, lightly laced with brandy, which they drank from a shared cup.
‘Drakon?’
‘Mmm?’
‘Did you…did you plan this?’ questioned Lucy suspiciously, surveying him across a cloud of steam.
‘The outing?’
‘The sex.’
There was a pause. ‘Put it this way, I like to cover every eventuality.’ The smile he gave her was automatic but suddenly Drakon found