Chapter Six #2
He was already shaking his head. ‘That’s no excuse. If you’d mentioned you were pregnant my legal team would have investigated.’
As they did whenever anyone falsely claimed he was their child’s father. Dido imagined herself being interviewed by some supercilious lawyer.
‘Why, Dido?’
‘You want the truth?’ Her hands found her hips as she planted her feet wider. ‘Because I didn’t believe you’re fit to be around my baby.’
His head jerked back as if from a blow. It would have been easier if Dido could exalt over that, but she couldn’t. Because, despite his serious faults it was clear he cared about their daughter.
‘Not fit? Not fit! Who are you to make that accusation?’
For the first time she stepped back from him, wary of the incendiary blaze in those dark eyes. Instantly he closed the gap so they stood toe-to-toe.
It was too much. He was too much.
All she’d been through had taken a toll.
Swept off her feet and into marriage, then abandoned.
The shock of her pregnancy. The fear and stress of being a single mother, even with Flavia’s help.
The nerves and lack of sleep over her big chance to make her name at work and build a secure future for her daughter, only for it to end in catastrophe.
The revelation he was Chiara’s bridegroom.
Losing her job and now facing the man who’d caused it all.
Dido’s voice was husky but strong. ‘I’ll tell you who I am.
I’m the woman you promised to share your life with.
To honour and trust. I’m the woman you accused of betrayal, with no basis.
I’m the woman you judged without a hearing, because you believed what other people told you rather than hearing me out. I’m the woman you dumped by text!’
She dragged a breath into cramped lungs, barely noticing that his face had frozen into an unreadable mask.
‘You broke your word, Panos, when you refused to stand by me. You’re untrustworthy and incapable of giving trust. You listen to rumours rather than discuss problems like an adult. You’re callous, unfeeling and rude. I didn’t want my child spending time with someone like that.’
Only the rhythmic flare of his nostrils with each breath indicated he was anything other than a statue. His visage was all grim lines and proud angles.
‘Whereas you’re a liar through and through.
’ His voice was a low whisper that raked along her skin.
‘You lied about your family. You lied when you said you weren’t interested in my money when that’s exactly what you wanted.
’ His eyebrows crammed together. ‘That and a child. You married me for what you could get, for yourself and your precious siblings. Then when I discovered the truth you took the worst revenge possible. You stole my child.’
Dido forced herself to stand her ground, though his warlike expression made her heart leap into her throat and her stomach churn.
But there was something else too. Something more than remembered hurt and indignation. A sharp jab of excitement. A thrill of anticipation as the fine hairs on her arms and the back of her neck stood up.
Because Panos’ breath warmed her face, his molten gaze holding hers, static electricity humming between them.
In that moment she was acutely alive. As if she felt every individual cell, every minuscule movement, the thud of her pulse, the rise and fall of her chest, the loosening of her jaw as her lips parted.
His unique scent filled her nostrils along with the tang of something else, something earthy that made her press her legs together even as she felt that tell-tale softening between her thighs.
Arousal. That was what made her nostrils twitch and her mouth dry.
Did she imagine his pupils dilated? Or that the space between them closed?
How long since she’d reacted this way to a man?
As if she didn’t know. It was three years. Since he’d kicked her out.
In all that time she hadn’t felt this hormonal rush of awareness with any man. Coming on top of outrage, and, yes, fear, her feelings were almost too potent to contain.
‘Nothing to say, Dido?’ Each word was a puff of air caressing her mouth. Her nipples tightened into hard, aching pebbles and pain radiated down her neck from the effort of standing tall and apparently unaffected. ‘No excuses?’
His sneer was too much. She’d imagined how she’d cut him down to size when she finally had the chance to explain how wrong he was about her. Now that condescending look dried every word. How dare he judge her?
It was a form of madness, she decided later. But it was impossible to stand there and weather his derision any more. She had to shut him up.
Every unruly, reckless impulse she’d smothered came roaring to the surface, blasting common sense and caution. For that crucial second she felt outside her body, watching as she planted one hand on his shoulder, fingers curling into his shirt, testing the muscled strength beneath.
She rose on her toes, leaning into his heat, her other hand anchored in the thick dark hair at the back of his head. She saw a flash of expression in his eyes. Satisfaction? It couldn’t be relief.
Dido’s mouth slammed into his. She registered the tang of coffee and spice and was surprised anew at how soft his lips were. And how she’d missed this.
Still furious, she was stunned when yearning engulfed her. The flood of remembrance was so powerful she swayed with the force of it, grateful for his strong body supporting hers.
She slicked her tongue along the seam of his mouth, opening her lips against his, inviting him to join her.
Until finally his immobility registered.
Stop it now! You’re making a fool of yourself.
She was pulling back when everything changed. A ripple coursed through his tall frame then Panos came alive against her. One long arm lashed around her, drawing her up to settle against his groin as he planted his feet wide.
Dido gasped at the intimacy, the incendiary heat, and the feel of male arousal solid against her.
Then Panos pushed his tongue between her lips, his other hand grasping her head as he delved deep.
They’d shared sensual kisses, urgent kisses, languid, lazy, arousing kisses. This was unlike any of them.
This was possession. Hard, devouring and complete.
If it weren’t so perfect, so exactly what she wanted, she might have called it brutal. Instead he merely matched the raw hunger that had been building in her since the moment he sauntered back into her life on that glorious, catastrophic Tahitian day.
Her body sang with the particular joy she’d known only with Panos. As if the communion she’d once felt with him hadn’t been an illusion. As if they really were perfectly matched in ways she couldn’t comprehend.
The thrust of his tongue, his grip on her skull, unleashed a storm of wanting, blasting her senses with the memory of how perfect they’d been together.
Dido clung tight as his hand dropped to her buttocks, pulling her up against all that delicious, rigid heat.
She devoured the taste of him, circling her hips, dancing to the urgent tune beating in her blood. Frustration and anger had driven her to kiss him but now something else took over.
He swung her around, pushing her back against the wall, jamming her there with his body, and she groaned her approval. This felt so right.
Caught between the wall and the searing heat of his powerful body, something inside her exploded. A primal urge for immediate sexual release that reminded her how long she’d been celibate.
The kiss deepened and need overwhelmed her. The solid length of his erection teased, pressing her belly. She needed to get higher, to feel him notched between her thighs where that frantic pulse beat.
Her fingers sank into the cloth at his shoulders as she strained upwards, lifting her leg to curve around his hip.