Chapter Nine
HE WAS SILENT so long, she wondered if he hadn’t heard her.
Oh, he heard. Those eyes blazed so hot they scorched her.
‘What, exactly, are you suggesting?’
What part of I need you, didn’t he understand? She hadn’t imagined his implicit invitation to share his bed last night, had she? No, his meaning had been potently clear.
She angled her chin up. ‘You and me together. Naked.’ She watched a pulse throb at his temple, felt his muscles move as he swallowed.
‘Is this guilt talking?’
‘What do you mean?’
He nodded towards his arm. ‘Because I got hurt. Your way of making amends? Paying me back?’
Rosamund dropped her hand and stepped away, suddenly trembling. She did feel guilty that he’d been injured because of her. More than guilty. Thinking of him in pain was hard. But this was something else.
Suddenly what had felt so simple had become tainted.
‘You think I use sex as a payment? A way of balancing the books?’ Her stomach rolled so much she felt almost sick. Over the years people had tried to make her feel cheap but it was rare they succeeded. But now… ‘Strangely enough, I’ve never propositioned one of my bodyguards before.’
‘I didn’t mean—’
‘It’s okay, Fotis. I know what you meant.’ He imagined she used her body as a commodity.
‘No! You don’t.’ His voice was strident, a far cry from his usual even tones.
He ploughed his hand through his hair, leaving it ruffled and ridiculously appealing.
She hated that she noticed. ‘I’m not insulting you.
I thought you were feeling sorry for me.
You shouldn’t feel guilty about what happened when it’s not your fault.
It was mine for letting down my guard.’ He took a deep breath that lifted his powerful chest. ‘I should never have let you leave the premises with me. You could have been hurt.’
To her amazement his voice was uneven.
‘You thought I was offering pity sex?’
Those broad shoulders lifted. ‘It’s a possibility.’
Rosamund shook her head. ‘It was my decision to leave the party with you. You gave your professional advice and I ignored it, so it was my fault. I regret what happened to you and I do feel guilty. But that’s got nothing to do with this.’
‘No?’ He folded his arms, making her wish he’d move away from her doorway so she could go inside and shut the door behind her.
‘No!’
‘Good.’
‘Good? What do you mean?’ Somehow she’d lost track of the conversation. Why had she thought telling Fotis she wanted him would make things easy? Nothing had been easy between them.
‘Two adults acting on pure sexual attraction sounds perfect to me.’
Her mind must have slowed because it took a second for his meaning to sink in. When it did it was like a bomb exploding inside, reigniting the desire his earlier words had doused. ‘Perfect?’
She didn’t think she’d ever had perfect in her life. But the thrill she got just from being close to this man and the confidence he exuded, made her suspect being with him could come close. His eyes glittered with an unholy heat that made her knees loosen.
‘There’s just one thing,’ he added. ‘I don’t do long-term relationships.
’ His gaze dropped to her mouth and it was as if he’d drawn a line of heat along her lips then down to her breasts and further, deep into her womb.
‘I’m not after emotional attachment. I don’t want that.
If there’s any danger of you getting emotionally involved—’
‘No. There’s not.’ She almost wished there was. But her experiences had soured that possibility. Romantic dreams were for innocents. Rosamund was a pragmatist now. ‘All I’m hoping for is mind-blowing sex.’
‘That,’ he said with a slow-growing smile that twisted her insides in knots, ‘I can deliver.’
He moved so swiftly, he took her by surprise, hoisting her into his arms and up against his chest. She was surrounded by hard male and heat so intense it seemed almost feverish. She planted one hand on his chest, pleased to feel his heart thudding as fast as her own.
He turned his back on her room. ‘Fotis?’
‘What is it?’ He stopped, looking down with a frown. ‘You want to wait?’
Held securely in that iron-hard embrace, she felt his urgency and saw it reflected in his features. She almost smiled her relief. ‘No! I just wondered why you’re walking away from a perfectly good bed.’
He moved swiftly along the hallway, shouldering his way through another door, and she marvelled at the intriguing feeling of weightlessness as he carried her so easily. ‘Mine has a stock of condoms in the bedside table.’
Her breath snagged at the febrile glaze of desire in his eyes.
She’d only seen him fully clothed but she had an excellent imagination.
He was a tall man and well-built. She suspected that naked he’d be imposing.
He certainly was in her taunting, erotic dreams. She wanted to watch him roll on a condom while he watched her with that naked hunger in his eyes.
‘Then what are we waiting for?’
A smile hooked up the corner of his mouth and something inside her dissolved. Serious or disapproving he was stunning. But amused and approachable he was downright dangerous.
Deliciously, temptingly dangerous. She wanted to lose herself in that smile. In his arms, his body, and not surface for a long, long time.
With an ease that spoke of impressive strength, he lowered her slowly to her feet.
Their bodies brushed together, centimetre by centimetre, the friction teasing and delighting.
She swayed against him, hands going automatically to his shirt buttons.
She started at the top while he reefed the shirt free of his trousers.
The top of his shirt gaped wide and her knuckles brushed hot flesh and crisp chest hair over tight muscles. She looked down, following the narrow trail of dark hair descending from his chest over glowing, golden skin.
She’d been so right about his body, she decided as she pushed his shirt off with a silent sigh of appreciation.
He had broad shoulders and the leanly honed muscles of an athlete. As she stroked down his body those tight muscles twitched under her touch. As if she had power over him.
As he did over her. Just the sight of Fotis, half-naked, had turned the needy place between her legs butter-soft. Her breasts swelled and low inside she ached.
Her fingers reached his trousers. His belt. She wanted…
‘My turn.’
His voice was raw gravel and only added to her arousal. She looked up and there she saw the same desperation she felt. It slammed into her, an affirmation so powerful she couldn’t remember ever feeling so good.
And they’d barely started.
His hands rose to her shoulder straps, then slowly down, skimming the fabric that crossed above her décolletage, then lower, feathering the material that covered her breasts.
Her hum of approval sounded more like a growl as she pressed into his hands, squeezing her thighs tight together against a tide of liquid pleasure as he cupped and squeezed her breasts. She’d never been more grateful that a bra was impossible in this dress.
‘Do you have any idea how hard it’s been, keeping my hands off you? Especially in that dress. Did you wear it to torment me?’
‘Of course not,’ she groaned as he weighed her breasts in his palms then followed the fabric lower, to where the two wide bands of fabric parted, leaving an upside-down V of flesh bare at her midriff. His fingertips stroked her skin and even that felt like erotic overload.
‘The dress is perfectly respectable,’ she croaked. The skirt was knee-length, and while the straps revealed more than usual of her back, the bodice was modest but for that small triangle of bare flesh above her waist.
But appearances lied. The wide crossed straps covered her breasts fully but once over her shoulders they narrowed, crossing over her back before circling her waist to tie at the front. Everything essential was covered but undo that tie and yank the straps…
She’d worn it because it made her feel bold and attractive. Defiant.
‘So you were making a point for the cameras, not me, with all that sultry sexiness.’
She put her hands on his, intending to drag them back to her aching breasts. But then he spanned her waist in what felt deliciously like possessiveness and she confessed, ‘Maybe I dressed for you too.’
Not to tease, but because she’d wanted, badly, to have him look at her like an attractive woman one more time, not like someone he’d simply sworn to protect.
‘I’m glad. I approve.’
His teeth flashed in a feral smile as he grasped her hips and yanked her to him.
Rosamund’s mind went blank as she registered the thick length of his erection pressing against her abdomen. Then she rose on her toes, grabbing the hard muscles at his shoulders, and ground her pelvis against him.
So good. So very, very good.
Eyelids at half-mast, she saw him grit his teeth, a man on the edge. Excitement spiked.
‘You have three seconds to undo that dress before I damage it when I rip it off you.’
For a shocking second she toyed with the idea of calling his bluff. But she loved seeing Fotis teetering on the brink of control. She intended to wear this dress again, often.
Before this, sex had been enjoyable but never thrilling. She discovered she liked thrilling.
Leaning back, she swiftly undid the discreet bow at her waist then dragged down the wide straps covering her chest. The bodice dropped, leaving her naked from the waist up.
Rosamund didn’t understand Greek but she didn’t need to. His whispered words were heartfelt and made her stand taller so her breasts jutted towards him. His husky voice and the avid gleam in his eyes made her feel like a goddess.
But when he stroked his hands, feather-light, over her bare breasts, she was all woman, surging forward into his hold, grabbing at his shoulders for balance as he wrought the most incredible sensations in her needy body.
‘Fotis.’