CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SIX
His grip was iron. There was no way for her to break it. And the look in his eyes, black in the dim confines of the limo, was fierce, almost savage with hunger.
He was a starving lion and she was his prey, but unlike a poor antelope, she didn’t want to get away. She was already caught, and now she wanted him to gorge on her, feast on her until she couldn’t bear it any more.
The world had narrowed to the gleam in his eyes, the warm strength of his hands gripping her wrists, the intolerable ache between her thighs.
Her plans were forgotten—she couldn’t even remember why getting close to him mattered—and she didn’t care.
She didn’t care that he was the man who’d caused her father’s death, the reason she’d lost her mother too, and why the safe, contented little bubble of her childhood had been shattered.
She didn’t even care that the man who’d destroyed so many parts of her life was going to take her virginity.
None of those things seemed important, not any more.
There was only him. Him and his touch, his kiss, the chemistry that sparked and flared in the air around them.
His body was hard beneath hers, like stone, and her mouth felt full and sensitive from the effects of that blinding kiss. Her clothes felt too tight, constraining her, and she wanted to be rid of them. She wanted to be naked, basking in the heat he was putting out, sunning herself like a cat.
Here, he’d said. Now.
Of course, here. Of course, now. Those were the only logical answers.
‘Yes,’ she said hoarsely, her voice cracked as old paint. ‘Yes, please .’
He shifted her on his lap, levelling that fierce stare at her as he adjusted her, easing her knees apart so they were spread on either side of his hips and she was facing him. He didn’t let go of her wrists.
‘I’m going to hold you like this.’ His voice was soft and rough as frayed velvet, his gaze electric. ‘You can’t touch me, understand? Not yet.’
She swallowed, her mouth dry, her heart beating so hard she could barely hear anything. ‘Why not?’
‘Because you’ve got me on edge like a teenage boy,’ he said bluntly.
That thrilled her. So, he wanted her that much, did he? That made her feel good, made her feel powerful in a way she hadn’t ever felt before. He was a billionaire, head of a vast company, a man known for his iron control and his rigidity, and yet here he was, holding her hands behind her back, because her touch was too much for him. She threatened his control, and she liked it.
Her heart raced even faster. What would happen if she did touch him? What would happen if he lost his hold on that control of his? A shiver chased over her skin, her thoughts tumbling over themselves.
Oh, she wanted to see that. She wanted to see him totally at the mercy of this chemistry between them. She wanted to see him undone by her touch, by her.
This is how he can destroy you…
The thought flickered through her head, so fast she barely noted it. Right now all that seemed important was that glint in his eyes, that fire. She wanted to see it burn higher, burn his control to ash and unleash the passion imprisoned by it. Except, to do that, she needed to touch him and he had her wrists in a grip too strong for her to break.
She’d always been wary of losing control, of feeling helpless against the strength of her own emotions, but she didn’t feel helpless now. Even with him holding her wrists. He’d let her go if she wanted, she knew that he would, but she didn’t want him to.
She wanted sit just like this and see if he would join her where she was, in the middle of all this delicious fire.
Flora lifted her chin and held his gaze, letting him see what he was doing to her, letting him see the depth of her desire, because there was no need to hide it, not now. And deep in his jungle green eyes, she saw an answering desire leap high.
Oh, he liked watching her, he did. And he thought that, by holding her wrists, he was the one in charge here. But he wasn’t. She was seducing him away from his control, and he didn’t even realise it. All she had to do was surrender to him, and he’d follow.
Moving slowly, he reached behind her, to the zip of her gown, drawing it down in a smooth, measured movement. The blue silk parted, cool air washing over her heated skin, and it felt glorious. Then he slid the little sleeves down her arms before pulling the neckline down, exposing her breasts.
She hadn’t worn a bra, not with that gown, so there was nothing impeding his view, and she might have felt horribly self-conscious with another man, but she wasn’t with another man. She was with Apollo, and as the fire in his eyes leaped even higher, she knew he was utterly at her mercy.
‘I told you that you were exquisite,’ he murmured, his gaze roving all over her, looking at her as if he couldn’t get enough. ‘And exquisite you are.’
And she knew it, felt the truth of it deep inside. Right now, sitting here in the limo, on his lap, in his arms, she felt every bit as exquisite as he said she was.
He lifted his free hand, touching her, fingertips brushing lightly over the pulse at the base of her throat, then her collarbones, and down, tracing patterns on her bare skin. She shuddered, her breathing uneven, the light caresses making her skin tighten and prickle, and the ache between her thighs get even worse.
‘Do you like this?’ That soft, velvety voice of his wasn’t cold any longer, or impassive. It was threaded through with a rough heat, a hunger that seemed only to acknowledge what she already knew, that she had him wrapped around her little finger. He would deny her nothing.
His hand dropped down further, cupping one breast. ‘Do you like me touching you?’
The heat of his palm against her bare skin was an intense pleasure, drawing a shudder of delight that she didn’t even attempt to hide. Then his thumb brushed over her already hard nipple, sending sparks everywhere, tearing a gasp from her.
‘Answer me, Flora,’ he said with rough insistence.
‘Yes,’ she managed, the word ending on a gasp as he pinched her nipple gently, sending a pulse of electric pleasure through her entire body. ‘Yes… I… I like it.’
His gaze was a deep jungle pool, emeralds glittering at the bottom like sunken treasure. Such beautiful eyes. She wanted to drown in them.
His fingers wandered, teasing her and stroking her, mapping the curves of her body as if he had all the time in the world. But she could see the leash he held on his hunger, and she knew she was testing it. It was going to break soon, and she wanted it to.
‘I’m your boss.’ His fingers moved lower, finding the helm of her gown and sliding beneath it. ‘Does that excite you?’
‘Yes,’ she whispered, all her guards down, letting him see the truth. ‘But it’s you who excites me. You always have.’
He found her bare thigh, stroking her skin, a fine net of sparks radiating from where he touched, prickling all over her. ‘Always?’ He held her gaze captive as his fingers crept higher, between her thighs, touching her, caressing her. ‘Since you started working for me?’
Flora shuddered under his touch, surrendering completely to him. ‘Yes,’ she whispered. ‘Always. Right from the first day.’
An expression she couldn’t read flickered across his beautiful face, but there was no denying the glittering flames in his eyes. He liked that she had.
‘You hid it well, matia mou .’ Finding the damp silk of her underwear, he pulled the fabric to one side in a deft movement. ‘I would never have guessed.’
She gasped as his fingers found the soft, slick folds between her thighs, exploring, teasing, and the pleasure became so acute the gasp turned into a low moan.
No one had ever touched her there before, though sometimes at night she would touch herself, give herself a fleeting physical pleasure for comfort, when she felt too lonely, the journey she’d undertaken too long. When the quest for justice seemed hollow, like one of those pipe dreams of her father’s, and she not worthy, not equal to the task.
What Apollo was doing with his hand, though, was nothing like the feeling when she touched herself. It was sharper and so much more intense that she found herself trembling, on the brink of climax already.
It might have felt too exposing to be so undone by him, to be held helpless like this, trembling under his gaze like that antelope under the paw of a lion, but it didn’t feel exposing. And she didn’t feel at his mercy or helpless.
No, it was the other way around. He was helpless. He was at her mercy, and she knew it by the savage glitter in his eyes, the way his stare was locked with hers, as if he couldn’t look away. As if there was nowhere he’d rather be looking than at her.
He was desperate for her, his forgotten PA. The daughter who hadn’t been enough for one parent, and who’d been a millstone around the neck of the other. She had him on his knees with a desire so strong he’d crossed all his own lines, burned his code of ethics to the ground, and overturned his vaunted control so badly he couldn’t wait until they got back to the Constantinides residence to have her.
Power coursed through her and she loved it. She loved that look in his eyes and the way he touched her. She felt like a phoenix, rising magnificently from the ashes, golden and brilliant and beautiful, the object of everyone’s desire.
But it was his desire that mattered most to her.
And it was time to unleash it.
He stroked her, easing one finger inside her, pressing her wrists into the small of her back with his other hand, making her spine arch, her bare breasts pressing against the cotton of his shirt. She groaned, her head falling back as the pleasure intensified. ‘Please…’ she murmured. ‘Please…’
‘Please, what?’ His voice was so deep it was a growl, insistent, demanding.
Flora looked at him beneath her lashes, moving restlessly against his hand, watching as the leash he had on his own desire began to loosen. ‘Please, sir,’ she whispered.
The look in his eyes blazed. ‘Good girl.’ He eased in another finger, sliding them in and out, a rhythm that had her panting. ‘Very good, matia mou .’ And he kept on watching as his fingers moved, and the wave broke over her, and she cried out, trembling as pleasure swamped her.
She could see him then, still looking at her, staring at her as if he’d suddenly discovered God, and he was so close to the edge. It wouldn’t take much to push him over, and she wanted him to.
He’d stripped her of her control, now it was time for her to strip him of his.
‘Let me go,’ she whispered, and immediately, his hold on her wrists loosened. She shifted on him, hearing the harsh intake of his breath, feeling the hard evidence of his desire beneath her. Not that she needed either to know how close he was to that edge, not when she could see the bonfire in his eyes.
Flora lifted her hands and took his face between them. ‘Now, sir,’ she murmured, meeting his gaze. ‘Let yourself go.’
* * *
Flora had done something to him and he didn’t know what it was. What he did know was that he couldn’t think, couldn’t move, could barely breathe from the intensity of the desire flooding him.
He felt strung out, almost wild, only hanging on to his control by the skin of his teeth. One slip and that grip would break, and he had no idea what would happen if it did.
Yet looking up in her passion-darkened eyes, the sweet smell of her body and her arousal all around him, the top of her gown down around her waist, and her bare skin warm, he was starting not to care.
What did it matter if he did? He’d barely managed to keep it together as he’d slowly uncovered her, unwrapping her like a present, and touching her, caressing her lovely body, had driven him to the edge. Perhaps he shouldn’t have told her what she did to him, perhaps he shouldn’t have admitted it. Then again, he knew she’d liked his desire for her, knew that it had added to her pleasure, and watching her react to him had been the sweetest gift.
She’d let him see everything, had held nothing back, and something in him had responded to abandon. The reckless, wild part of him that he had to keep under control was fighting to be set free.
She had seen that too, and now with her whispering to him to let go, he couldn’t think of anything he wanted to do more.
Apollo forgot about the slippery slope. Forgot that he needed to keep that part of himself under wraps. Forgot everything but the savagery of the desire inside him, and how he needed to bury it in the woman who’d set it free.
There was no time for niceties. No time for gentleness or care. He pulled out his wallet, found himself a condom, then jerked the buttons of his trousers open. It didn’t take more than a moment to sheath himself, before he was gripping her hips, positioning her where he wanted her.
He kept his gaze on hers as he lifted her, then eased her down onto him, pushing into the tight, slick heat of her body. Her eyes went wide and her mouth opened, her hitching gasp echoing the limo.
Beautiful, beautiful woman.
He wanted to stay like this, buried inside her, watching the pleasure climb in her eyes the way he had just before, but the demands of his body were too much. He couldn’t stop his hips from lifting, couldn’t stop his hands from tightening on her, holding her firmly in place as he drove himself into her.
‘Sir…’ she whispered, the pleasure-soaked sound of the word adding a forbidden spice to his own desire. ‘Oh… Apollo…’
Yes, and his name too, spoken just like that… So good…
He couldn’t drag his gaze from her face, all delicately flushed, her hair a black tangle around her shoulders, her grey eyes darkened into black. He’d undone her, his unflappable little PA. He’d made her moan, and now he was going to make her scream.
He drove deeper, her gasps of pleasure music to his ears, and yet also loosening his grip on his own sanity. He wanted to make her come again, but he wasn’t sure he could hold on long enough. He’d never had that problem before, never.
She will be the ruin of you.
The thought was there and then it was gone before he’d had a chance to fully grasp it. But by then he didn’t care. All that mattered was the tight heat of her body, the way she moaned, the endless darkness of her eyes.
Everything had narrowed.
He didn’t care that they were in his limo having sex.
He didn’t care that she was his PA.
He didn’t care about his reputation or his name.
What he cared about was making her come before the climax claimed him too, so he pushed his hand between them, his fingers sliding between her legs to where she was most sensitive, and he stroked her, giving her some added friction.
Flora cried out, her back arching, her head going back as the climax hit her, and he reached for her then, plunging his fingers into her hair and dragging her mouth down onto his, moving harder, faster, his hips falling out of rhythm as the orgasm took him as well. The kiss turned savage and he said her name over and over against her mouth, as the pleasure took him like a building collapsing on top of him.
He wasn’t sure how long it took for him to come back to himself. Perhaps an age, perhaps mere seconds, but for a while he was somewhere else. Somewhere far away, where there was nothing in the world but the woman in his arms, her sweetness, her heat, the tight grip of her sex around his. Her soft moans, her needy cries, the abandon with which she’d given herself to him.
He wasn’t even Apollo Constantinides, imprisoned on all sides by the boundaries he’d put around himself, or the rigid control he’d kept himself under.
No, he was just a man with a woman he desired, and who desired him in return. Nothing more, but certainly nothing less. And it was a strange thing, but in the afterglow of the most intense climax he’d ever had, he felt as if he’d been suffocating for years, and only now could he finally breathe.
It was Flora. It was all her. How she’d known he’d been holding himself back, he had no idea, but when she’d told him to let go, he had, as if he’d been waiting for the chance to do so all this time and had never dared. Letting the wildness take him and following it wherever it led and… She’d joined him there.
He’d never let himself go like that with a woman before, never ever, and now that he had… Well, now, he felt more like himself than he could remember feeling for a long, long time.
A night, though. That’s all you have.
Flora had collapsed forward onto him, her head on his shoulder, and he put a hand to the back of her head, feeling the softness of her hair under his palm. Feeling the softness of her body, warm and relaxed, pressed to his.
A night he’d said, but that had been before she’d completely decimated his control. And she had. Which meant she was a dangerous woman.
Apollo glanced down at her, feeling her soft breaths against his neck. Her eyes were closed, lashes lying softly on her pink cheeks.
He should get rid of her, he knew that. He should perhaps transfer her to a different position in the company, where she wasn’t working directly with him, where she could never threaten his command over himself again. And if he hadn’t spent years polishing the Constantinides name, making his reputation the pillar upon which everything stood, he might have done just that, ending this pretence of an engagement as well.
But he couldn’t.
Everyone thought they were sleeping together, as she’d already pointed out, so maybe they should make that part of it real. That wouldn’t break anything. In fact, now that he thought about it, maybe sleeping together would be a good thing. The hold he’d had on himself had been too rigid, but if he could let go with her, within the confines of a bed and, very soon, marriage vows, then that would be a good way for him to let off steam. Indulge his recklessness physically, with a woman who matched him.
Satisfaction gathered inside him as he leaned back against the seat, cradling Flora in his arms. She didn’t move, seemingly content to lie there against him.
Yes, that’s what he’d do. He’d marry her quickly, make her his wife, and then, once this chemistry between them had burned itself out, they’d go their separate ways, her reputation and his safely intact.
Having sex with Flora wasn’t the slippery slope back down to the man he’d once been, it just wasn’t. Too many years had passed of him being who he was now, years of having those boundaries around him, years of making sure his moral compass pointed true north.
He would never be that young man again, hungry for his father’s approval, proud of his business skills and the way he could charm people, the way he could get them to do anything he wanted. He’d enjoyed bending people to his will back then, seducing them into giving him all their money, it had given him the purest thrill. And then seeing his father look at him as if Apollo was his golden child.
He’d told the police, the media, his mother, he’d told anyone who asked that he hadn’t known what his father was doing. That he hadn’t seen the signs that his father’s investment scheme wasn’t as legitimate as it had appeared. That he was just as much a victim of his father’s machinations as everyone else was…
But, deep down, there was a truth he hadn’t wanted to acknowledge.
He’d known. He’d known exactly what his father had been doing, and he hadn’t cared. It had been the first time his father had brought him in, and he’d been too excited to be working with him, to finally be at his side in the family business, that he’d ignored the signs. Ignored the instinct in his gut that had told him there was something amiss.
He’d been chasing that thrill with reckless abandon, loving how his father would drape his arm around Apollo’s neck and tell him how proud he was of him. What a chip off the old block he was. All he’d ever wanted to be at that moment in time was his father, his hero.
Now, all he wanted was to be different.
And he was. Sex with Flora wouldn’t change things, it just wouldn’t.
He wound his fingers into her hair and tilted her head to the side, looking down at her. Black hair covered his jacket, the rosy pink of her cheek contrasting against his white shirt.
Pretty, pretty Flora.
‘Are you okay, matia mou ?’ he murmured, the endearment coming as easily as it had before they’d had sex.
She let out a long and very satisfied sigh. ‘Yes, I’m very okay.’ She glanced up at him, grey eyes still darkened with pleasure. ‘You are quite incredible, do you know that?’
‘So I’ve been told. On a number of occasions.’
She smiled, pure amusement glittering in her gaze, and his heart skipped a beat. She was so relaxed like this, lying against him as if she’d done it all her life, looking up at him as if she truly loved him, as if this wasn’t a sham at all, but entirely real. She was a woman who was freer and more natural, more passionate and sparkling than his buttoned-up, impassive PA. There was also a mischievousness to her, a glint of something wicked in her eyes, which sparked an answering wickedness in him.
‘You’re so arrogant,’ she said, as if this was an utterly delightful quality.
And he couldn’t stop the smile that turned his mouth. A rare smile, since he’d never found that there was much about life to smile at. But he did so now, because she was beautiful, and the way she looked at him made him feel as if there were things to smile about now. ‘And you like it,’ he said, his fingers playing through her hair, loving the feel of it against his skin. ‘You certainly liked calling me “sir”.’
Colour swept over her skin, her eyes glinting silver. ‘Maybe. Or maybe I just like to indulge your dominating tendencies.’
‘That’s good, because I have a lot of those tendencies.’
‘So I’ve noticed.’ The smile faded from her face slowly. ‘So…this is probably a bit late now, but what’s going to happen after tonight?’
He shifted her into a more comfortable position. ‘Do you want more?’ It was a question he thought he knew the answer to, but he wanted her to say it.
‘Yes,’ she said honestly, obliging him. ‘You must know I do.’
‘Then you shall have it.’ He pushed a strand of hair back behind her ear. ‘I propose a wedding as quickly as possible, and then you will move in with me. We’ll have a proper marriage for as long as we both want it.’
‘Move in with you?’ She raised an imperious brow. ‘Perhaps you need to move in with me.’
She was teasing him, he thought, but he liked it. He liked it very much indeed. However, he realised, as soon as she said it, that he didn’t know where she lived. Or if she lived alone. Presumably she wasn’t with anyone, otherwise she wouldn’t have had sex with him. No, he was sure she wouldn’t, but…
You don’t know anything about her.
Something cold penetrated the warmth in his gut, sitting uncomfortably sharp inside him, though he wasn’t sure why. Flora had passed all the background checks his HR department did on every employee, and she’d never lied to him. She wasn’t a dishonest person, he was sure.
How would you know, when you never paid any attention to her?
His fingers tightened in her hair. ‘And where do you live, hmm?’ He kept his voice light, matching hers.
‘I live in a bedsit. You’d probably find it a bit…small.’
That struck him oddly. He paid her a very good wage, yet she could only afford a bedsit? ‘Why?’ he asked, abruptly curious. ‘I know how much I pay you. You could afford better.’
She sniffed. ‘It’s a very nice bedsit, actually. But you know, London prices.’
He did know. There were a number of charities he was personally involved with that were trying to tackle homelessness, so he was aware of the issues.
‘Yes, but I’m sorry, I’m not moving into your bedsit.’ He kept his tone dry. ‘You’ll have to live with me. At least for the duration of our marriage.’
‘Oh, no,’ she said plaintively. ‘I’ll have to move in with my billionaire husband. Whatever shall I do?’ The tension had drained out of her, and there was an amused glint in her eye that had his body hardening again.
Pretty Flora.
‘A terrible situation indeed,’ he murmured, stroking her cheek. ‘You might simply have to bear it by lying back and thinking of England.’
Her mouth curved the way it had done earlier that evening, in the ballroom, and he felt savagely pleased with himself that he’d got a smile from her. ‘If you have anything to do with it, I won’t be able to think at all.’
‘That’s the plan,’ he said, and kissed her.