Mediterranean Seduction. Кэрол Мортимер
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her head back, she gasped as he began to stroke her stomach with firm downward caresses. The fire smouldering inside her flared into life again. But even as she melted beneath his touch Charlotte remembered how little time was left for them. The thought of how she might start to live without him sent a chill rippling down her spine. But then he eased her thighs apart and she could think of nothing but the pleasure to come.
‘Stand up and take your bra off.’
His voice sounded harsh, and in her groggy state Charlotte blinked at him like a wary owl.
‘Do it slowly,’ he added, in a slightly gentler tone.
Meeting his gaze, Charlotte felt reassured. Iannis liked playing games, and she liked playing the games he taught her. She sucked in a soft, eager breath and he inclined his head as an indication to begin.
She met his gaze steadily, relishing her female power when she saw the look of frank appreciation in his eyes. Freeing her breasts from their lacy constraint, she cast the flimsy piece of lingerie aside.
‘I think you know what I want you to do,’ Iannis murmured, gazing at her.
Cupping her breasts in her hands, Charlotte brought them up so that he could decide between the taut pink nipples. As he took one between his lips and laved it with his tongue his hands moved to control her hips. Slipping one hand between her legs, he started stroking her there rhythmically, until she threw back her head and cried out uncontrollably. He brought her easily to the edge, and as her legs weakened he took her waist in a firm hold and brought her astride him.
He wanted this…he needed this, Iannis realised, even though his mind was in an agony of confusion. He wanted Charlotte more than any other woman; wanted her in a way that his pride had no power to subdue. She touched his senses, his heart, his soul; she drew something from the very core of him. But she had betrayed him, he remembered, thrusting deep, and he must never forget that.
As he controlled her movements Iannis longed to draw Charlotte into his arms, to hold her and to kiss her. He wanted to reassure her, tell her it would always be like this—that he would make it so. But that would be a lie, he thought grimly, watching her face flush pink at the onset of her climax, and he never lied—which only made the pain of her deception all the harder to bear.
He held her steady until the last violent spasms of release left her limp, and then stroked her silky hair to soothe her down. It was his misfortune to love a woman who wished him only harm, and the only defence in his armoury was to harden his heart against her.
But when, still breathing raggedly, Charlotte smiled contentedly into his eyes, he felt his soul reach out and curl around her. Was she a madness that had possessed him—a folly from which he would never recover? The only answer was to make a clean break. And that break would take place in just a few short hours. He had until dawn to have his fill of her, and then it was over—Charlotte Clare would be out of his life for good.
He led her by the hand to the bathroom, where they enjoyed a languid soak in silence, both lost in their own thoughts.
Completely relaxed, Charlotte leaned back against Iannis, enclosed by his muscular legs. The water was silky-soft, fragrant with the scent of lavender. Peace after the storm of lovemaking, she reflected, feeling calm and sated. It was impossible not to draw up a thousand reasons for delaying her departure from the island. They seemed to have reached a point where anything was possible…
‘Warm enough?’ Iannis murmured, when he had lifted her out of the bath and wrapped her in a soft towel.
His breath on her head was like a caress, and Charlotte turned her face up for his kisses. ‘Perfect,’ she whispered. ‘Don’t you ever get tired?’ she murmured, smiling against his lips.
‘Not where you’re concerned,’ Iannis admitted, pulling back to look at her. ‘But you must sleep now—’
‘You’ll stay?’ Charlotte broke in, touching his cheek with her fingertips as she stared into his eyes.
‘I’m not going anywhere,’ Iannis assured her softly. Yet, he amended silently.
The first sensation Charlotte felt on waking was regret, because her stay on the island was almost over. Still with her eyes closed, she reached across the bed. There was no one there.
Instantly awake, she sat up. Thin early-morning sunlight was already slanting through the shutters and falling across the bedclothes in pale golden bands. Looking around, she saw there was no trace that Iannis had ever been in the room. Had it not been for all the signs of lovemaking her body still held she might have thought last night a dream. She sat very still, holding her breath to listen, but the silence in the villa was heavy and complete.
Leaping off the bed, she snatched her robe from the back of the door and went to search for him.
She knew he had left the villa long before she reached the kitchen, but still she ran out onto the veranda, hoping he might be there.
The veranda, like the rest of the house, was empty and silent, apart from a few leaves skittering about in the light breeze.
Leaning over the balcony, she stared down at the shore and exclaimed out loud with relief. He was there, hauling nets with the other fishermen. He must have left some time before dawn, she reasoned, seeing he had changed back into his work clothes.
So why the panic? Charlotte exhaled impatiently, remembering Iannis had told her he had to be at work early that morning. She was becoming forgetful. But how could she be expected to remember anything when her mind was full of Iannis? There was no room inside her head for anything else.
It was thrilling to watch him, to see his muscles flexing and hear him call with such authority to the other men—and know he was hers. Her gaze dropped to the powerful thighs that had so recently controlled her as he subjected her to pleasure beyond her wildest dreams. He didn’t just have a magnificent body—he knew how to use it, Charlotte mused, and a contented smile tugged at her lips.
He was at least a head taller than the other fishermen, but that was not the reason they looked to him for leadership. He possessed a natural air of authority, and something else—something indefinable. One of the other men had brought a small child with him to the beach, and Charlotte smiled to see Iannis scoop the toddler’s ball from the ground and throw it for him.
The misty seashore at dawn, the limpid water, the soft colours, the men going easily about their work—it was just like a scene from a movie, a dreamscape in the pearly light of dawn. On an impulse Charlotte pulled back, slapping the rail of the veranda as if to make everything stay just as it was in that instant. Then, dashing into the villa, she went to find her camera.
She had been taking pictures for quite a few minutes before Iannis looked up and saw what she was doing. A rush of happiness thrilled through Charlotte. Her lips widened in a smile and she waved playfully, making signs to indicate that he should back up a little, in order for her to take a group photograph.
Iannis stood motionless for a moment or two, just watching her, and then very slowly the smile dropped from Charlotte’s face. Everything about him suggested the opposite to her expectations. He was angry with her…furious.
She frowned in bewilderment, hearing him bark something at the other fishermen, and then tensed as he started striding back across the beach towards her.
There would be no more photographs today, she realised, slipping the camera strap from her neck. Hurrying back into the villa, she hung the camera on the back of a chair, then went outside again, meaning to meet him halfway.
But he was too fast for her, and Charlotte knew immediately that something was very wrong. Iannis didn’t speak, or embrace her. Instead he seized her arm and wheeled her around, steering her in the direction of the villa.
‘What the hell do you think you’re doing?’ she shouted angrily.
His silence frightened her—frightened her more than anything he could have said to her. Tearing her arm from his grip, she swung around.
‘Is