Chapter 2 #2
“I want this.” Her voice was husky. Her fingers curled around the curves of his ass. He was so firm and muscular. She shivered as she pulled him closer to her.
“There is no rush,” he assured her, but his fingers were pushing at the straps of her dress, slipping it lower over her body. He removed her bra at the same time. Those breasts had been calling to him since the moment she’d stormed onto the plane as though heaven and hell were nipping at her heels.
She nodded, but her hands pushed her dress down the rest of the way, then her underwear.
He stepped back, his eyes glowing as they appraised her painfully slowly.
Her skin was a pearlescent white, like the petals of the fairest tulip.
Her nipples were pink, like candy. Her stomach was flat and waist neat.
“You should never wear clothes,” he said thickly, as he pulled on her wrist to bring her hard against his body.
“Okay,” she said, shrugging her shoulders and earning a laugh from him.
“I want to kiss you all over,” he growled, making good on his promise by dropping his mouth to her breasts and taking a taut nipple into his mouth. She buckled hard against him in sensual awareness. His tongue wrapped around it and she felt her legs begin to shake.
“Mr Konstanides …”
He laughed again, a sound that she realized she could become addicted to just as much as his looks and his touch. Out of nowhere, she thought of Jordan and guilt weakened her desire. But she pushed her unfaithful bastard of a husband aside.
In a weird, sick way, she was doing this for him. For their marriage.
He dragged his mouth to her other breast and subjected that nipple to the same treatment while his fingers began to roll the first, reassuring it that more pleasure would follow.
He brought his mouth to hers, and his kiss was hard and demanding.
The pressure pushed her head back against the wall and his body pinned her there, demanding, firm, insistent.
“You want this?” He murmured, separating her legs with his hand and rolling his hips forward so that she could feel his erection deliciously close to her feminine heart.
She nodded. She did. Partly to earn revenge on Jordan, but also just because she did.
It had never been like this for Saphire.
She and Jordan had started dating when she was in high school.
They’d been kids. She’d never got to explore like this.
And exploration, she was realizing, promised to be all kinds of fun.
“Me too,” he promised throatily, running his fingers over the entrance to her body. He teased her, lightly touching her warm, throbbing womanhood, before sliding a single finger deep inside her.
“Oh, crap!” She bucked her hips forward and gripped his shoulders.
He was powerless to do anything but watch as waves of sensual pleasure began to swirl through her.
He brought his other hand to her clitoris and pressed against it.
Her cheeks were flushed. She bit down on her lower lip to stop from screaming; he understood.
Something wild was happening to her. Something she hadn’t expected.
He dropped his lips to her breast; it was too much. Her self-control snapped.
It was the most intense orgasm she’d ever felt. It hit her like a tidal wave. She embraced it. She cried out. She shook. She shuddered. And her fingernails dug deep into his tanned, warm shoulders.
Sanity was somewhere on the fringes of what she was feeling but Saphire kept it at bay. What was the need for sanity when there was such wonder to behold?
Had she ever felt anything like it before?
Slowly, he stepped away from her body. And strangely, Saphire didn’t feel embarrassed. Her smile was magical. Her eyes were filled with awe and invitation. Her hangover had evaporated on a cloud of sensation.
He stared at her as though she was an angel brought to earth. “I look forward to this, Saphire.”
She nodded. Jordan would cope. Or he wouldn’t. She knew she needed this. To feel like a woman and to feel worthy. Betrayal was scored deep in her heart and only being made love to by someone like Mr Konstanides would unravel it.
“Me too.” She bit down on her lip. “I was just about to shower.”
He traced his finger around her breasts and then down over her stomach. “Shower fast.” He kissed the tip of her nose. “I organized fruit for breakfast. Would you like something else?”
“Coffee,” she supplied instantly, without a beat’s hesitation.
He grinned. “A woman after my own heart.”
“Hey,” she called after his retreating back. “I don’t have any clothes.”
He looked over his shoulder. “I’ll bring something for you.”
“Where’s the restaurant?”
“Restaurant?”
“Yeah. I presume the hotel has a restaurant?”
His smile was sensual. “It’s straight downstairs. Can’t miss it.”
“Okay. Thanks.”
Saphire intended to shower quickly, but the water was so divine against her flushed skin that she leant against the tiles and enjoyed the sensation of being needled by the jets.
When she emerged, there was a crisp white tee shirt and a pair of grey shorts on the bed. Both were far too big for her but they were modest and clean; beyond that, she didn’t really care.
She pinched her cheeks to bring some color to them and then slipped her feet into the only shoes she had – slightly painful Louboutin pumps. Saphire Arana had no idea what she was getting into but she felt strangely excited given the mess she’d left at home.
* * *
“Thad, you shouldn’t be alone at a time like this.” Rocco’s tone was heavy with concern, just as it had been at the funeral the day before.
“I’m fine,” Thaddeus reclined against the railing of the balcony.
“Your grandfather – a man who raised you as his own child – just died unexpectedly. You buried him only yesterday. I was there, remember? You are not fine.”
Thad pressed his lips together. “He was ninety. It was hardly a surprise.”
“Are you kidding? Aristotle Konstanides was so stubborn everyone thought he’d live forever. You included.”
Thad stared out at the glistening ocean, his handsome face grim. “Yes. And yet that’s life, isn’t it?”
Far away, Rocco nodded. “Si, forse. You can’t live forever.”
“But you can make every day count.” He thought of Saphire and his chest compressed in response. They’d only just met, and yet already he knew that she made him feel … alive. She made him feel completely alive when death was all around him.
“So how long are you on the island for?”
Thad frowned. “A week? Maybe two.” How long would she stay?
How long could he have the pleasure of her company and her body?
She was the perfect answer to him at this time in his life.
An angel sent from heaven; or a very sexy distraction sent by his grandfather, who had the sickest sense of humor he’d ever come across. It brought a smile to his lips.
“I’m in Rome. I can come to you any time.”
“No.” Thad’s answer was swift and definitive. “No,” he softened the tone of his voice. “You’re busy. So am I. I … I will tell you, Rocco, if I need you.” He paused. Gratitude, though he felt it deeply, did not translate to words easily. “I appreciate your concern.”
Far in the distance he could see a fishing trawler pulling its nets in. It was late in the day; too late to be catching. Perhaps they’d hit an unexpected clutch of scampi.
“What’s it like?”
“What?” Thad didn’t immediately understand his friend.
“Being on the island without him.”
His breath was a long, slow contemplation.
“Strange,” he admitted for the first time.
“Aristotle is everywhere I look.” He shifted, so that his back was to the beach and his eyes could roam the mansion.
“He is in the trees I used to climb; the ocean I used to swim in; the steps I used to run. I lived with him here for sixteen years. How can I be back and accept …” He shook his head decisively. “But he is gone.”
Rocco nodded. He understood his friend’s pain. “You had your reasons for staying away.”
Thaddeus squeezed his eyes shut. “Such good reasons,” he agreed with a chill tone to his voice. “Until he died. And then I was left wondering why I let stubborn pride waste so much of our time?”
“Stubborn pride?” Rocco repeated. “There was no stubborn pride in your rift.”
“There was no rift in my rift,” Thad corrected angrily.
“Aristotle would have made his peace with me at any time I chose. But no; I was determined. He had cut my father out. My mother too. And he had raised me in ignorance of that.” He shook his head.
“If it had not been for my father’s will, I would never have known … ”
“And you would have continued to love Aristotle as a father.”
Thad sighed. “I do love him as a father. Anger does not negate love.” He dragged a hand through his hair and tugged at its black ends until it hurt.
“He loved me and so he erred. He feared losing me and so he lied. He forgot his scruples because he found his heart.” Thad shrugged.
“I would not make those mistakes, and yet I understand them.”
Rocco stared at his laptop screen without seeing. “What a waste.”
He noticed her first from the periphery of his vision. Saphire emerged, wearing casual clothes and spiked heels, her shining dark hair shimmering about her shoulders, and her lips a bright, cherry red. The color, then, was natural too, like her curves, her hair, her thick black lashes.
He wanted to forget Aristotle, and here she was. His perfect vehicle for memory lapse; the one single woman who had managed to obliterate his ever-active consciousness and plunge him into a state of ‘present’ living.
“I’ll have to call you back,” he muttered, disconnecting the call to his oldest friend without a second thought. He straightened and slipped his phone into his back pocket. “Something much more important has come up.”