Somehow it would have been less daunting if he’d just taken her face in his hands and kissed her.
She opened her mouth, took a breath, her heart thumping unevenly. ‘Nikos,’ she said.
Another shiver went through her. It felt unbearably intimate. His name on her tongue. He was no longer the owner of this house, and she wasn’t his housekeeper. They were equal.
As if reading her mind, he said, ‘When we go through that door we go as two mutually consenting adults, Maggie. You do not have to do anything you don’t want. You don’t owe me anything because of who I am. You are doing this because you want to. Because we both want this.’
She found that she felt quite touched that he was being so careful to make sure she felt in control of the situation. Again, not something she would have expected of a man like him.
‘I know what I’m doing. I want this.’ Maggie’s voice was husky.
‘Good.’
Nikos came forward and took Maggie’s hand in his. He led her into the bedroom, where lamps shed pools of golden light around the room. The sky was still a very dark lavender outside. On these summer nights there was only a few hours of total darkness.
He let her hand go and faced her. He made a face. ‘I should shower.’
The thought of him turning away from her, even for a small moment, made her feel panicky—as if she might lose her nerve. ‘No, you don’t need to,’ she said.
And he didn’t. He smelled divine.
He pulled the towel off his shoulders and threw it down on a nearby chair. Then he said, ‘Come here.’
Maggie took the step towards him, her skin tight all over, prickling with anticipation and awareness.
‘Take down your hair.’
She reached behind her, as if in a dream, and pulled her hair loose. It fell around her shoulders. Unruly hair. Thick and unmanageable. Too much. But it was the same as her mother’s so she loved it.
So, apparently, did Nikos. He reached out, taking a long strand and twining it around his fingers. ‘Your hair is amazing...’
He tugged her even closer. Maggie’s legs were like jelly. He slid the hand holding her hair around her neck, his thumb over the pulse that was hammering against her skin.
He tipped her jaw up. ‘Touch me.’
Maggie lifted her hands and put them on Nikos’s chest, felt his hair scratching her palms, his skin warm and alive. Muscles tensed under her fingers. Suddenly there wasn’t enough oxygen in the room, even though Maggie felt a faint breeze coming from an open window.
Nikos put his other hand on Maggie’s arm and bent his head, his breath feathering over her mouth for a moment. She smelled whiskey, and it rushed to her head all over again.
Everything inside her went still as she waited for his mouth to touch hers. She felt superstitiously that nothing would be the same after this... And then his mouth settled over hers and she knew it wasn’t a superstition. It was truth.
Like dry kindling to a match, she went up in flames.
Nothing could have prepared her for how Nikos’s mouth felt on hers—how it moved and enticed, encouraging her to open up so he could explore the very depths of her.
And the deeper the kiss got, the hungrier she became. It was as if she’d been starved her whole life until this moment. His hand was in her hair again now, tugging her head back to allow him more access, and Maggie moved closer, seeking more contact. She was responding instinctively, from a primal place of need...
Nikos was drowning in heat and lust. Maggie’s mouth under his...hesitant and soft at first, and then becoming bolder...ignited his senses like no other woman ever had, blasting apart any jadedness or ennui.
Her body was quivering against his like a taut bow. Full breasts were pressed against his chest, and he itched to explore her curves, explore every womanly inch of her. Her height was a novelty he relished.
He found the front of her shirt, his hands uncharacteristically inexpert, and undid the buttons, pushing the shirt apart. He pulled back from her mouth and opened his eyes, groaned softly. Her eyes were still closed, lashes long and dark on her cheeks, and her mouth was plump and pink.
She opened her eyes and it took a second for them to focus on him.
Desire wound tight as a drum inside Nikos. When was the last time he’d kissed such a responsive woman? Perhaps when he’d been a teenager, fumbling and awkward?
He looked down and stopped breathing. Her breasts were full and high. Encased in lace. Her waist was small and her hips flared—she embodied a feminine sensuality that he suspected she wasn’t even aware of.