Moodily Xan leaned back against the pillows and watched his wife sashay across the bedroom towards the bathroom, the globes of her buttocks paler than the tanned perfection of her shapely legs. Frustration heated his blood and his erection throbbed uncomfortably between his legs. Why hadn’t he overridden her desire to help with the party and encouraged her to give into a far more satisfying kind of desire instead?
He was still engaged in silent contemplation when she returned, dabbing drops of moisture from her dewy body with a towel before slipping on a tiny yellow bikini, which she covered up with a green cotton dress.
His groin ached as he watched her. He had scheduled this honeymoon to give credibility to their whirlwind union, with the party tacked onto the end to indicate a return to normal life. He had planned to use this opportunity to slake himself of his seemingly inexhaustible appetite for his new wife, before she departed from his life for ever with her divorce settlement clutched tightly in her hand.
But his anticipation of all the sex he wanted had been tempered by caution, because he wasn’t used to having a woman around full-time. Even during his longer relationships, he rarely stayed with a lover longer than twenty-four hours at a stretch, because by then he’d usually reached his boredom threshold. The thought of fourteen whole days and nights with one person had filled him with panic and he’d imagined he would be climbing the walls by day three. He’d planned to make an urgent visit to his office in Athens on some hastily constructed urgent business if necessary, using the trip as a badly disguised means of escape.
Only it hadn’t turned out like that. He hadn’t gone near his computer—not once—and the feeling of being trapped simply hadn’t materialised. It turned out that Tamsyn liked her own space just as much as he did.
‘Of course,’ she had informed him carelessly when one day, frustrated at finding her curled up in the garden reading some lurid crime novel, he had enquired rather acidly whether she’d always been quite so independent. ‘It’s the way I was raised.’
Xan frowned. Was it contrary of him to find himself resenting the fact that she seemed intent on racing through the pile of novels she’d brought with her from England? Or excitedly informing him that his infinity pool gave her the ideal
opportunity to perfect her breaststroke? And what about the afternoon when he’d fallen asleep beneath a pine tree and she had slipped away. He’d awoken up and gone looking for her and found her in the kitchen with Rhea, who was showing her how to make baklava which Tamsyn seemed to be alternating with colouring in a picture with Gia’s young daughter Maria. This scene of domestic bliss should have spooked him but it hadn’t, mainly because she had looked up at him with those big green eyes, and smiled and at that moment he had felt completely enslaved by her.
Xan scowled as he pushed away the rumpled sheet and got out of bed. The sooner he got back to work the better, he thought grimly. Work and distance would allow him to put this whole crazy marriage in perspective and to see it for what it really was.
Out on the sun-washed terrace, they breakfasted on fruit and honeyed yoghurt, served with strong black coffee. Afterwards Xan sailed his yacht to a sheltered cove—a favourite place whose inaccessibility always guaranteed privacy. Beneath the deep blue sky they spent the morning swimming and snorkelling in the crystal-clear waters and afterwards drank homemade iced lemonade. But although the food Rhea had stowed away in a cool box was carefully unpacked and looked delicious, he noticed Tamsyn seemed as disinterested in their picnic lunch as he was.
‘Not hungry?’ he murmured as he lay back on the soft sand.
She sat, ramrod-straight, looking out to sea. ‘Not really.’
‘Not for food?’
She cleared her throat. ‘Something like that,’ she agreed reluctantly, as if she resented his perception.
He smiled as a whispered fingertip down the entire length of her spine soon had the tension leaching from her shoulders and the touch of his lips which followed made her give an impatient little wriggle. He brushed his hand against her breasts and saw her lips open with hunger, clamping shut afterwards when he teased her by moving his fingers away from the thrusting nipple. He waited until he sensed complete readiness and then pulled her down next to him.
‘Is there anything you want which I can give you?’ he drawled lazily.
‘Xan,’ she said shakily.
‘Neh?’ he replied, as he stripped the tiny yellow bikini from her body and the sight of her naked in the sunshine made his blood roar. Tearing off his trunks with impatient hands, he parted her thighs and pushed deep inside her and she gasped as her hips lifted up to meet the hard slam of his. Never had she felt so hot or wet or deep and Xan could do nothing to stop the thoughts which flooded into his head as he drove into her. In a couple of days time he would be in his office in Athens, with back-to-back meetings and conference calls. He wouldn’t see Tamsyn until he got home in the evening—probably not before eight at the earliest—because he always worked late. Was it that which made this seem so poignant? The sense of something ending which somehow increased the intensity, making his climax explode at exactly the same time as hers, which had never happened to them before.
They lay there afterwards, resting in the shade of rocky outcrop and for a moment he thought she was asleep. But no. He heard her sigh as, her eyes concealed by her shades, she stared up at the sky above.
‘Was that good?’ he questioned, with sleepy satisfaction.
‘It’s always good.’
‘I don’t know how you do it.’ He gave another yawn. ‘But every time I have you, I just want you all over again.’
‘It’s because you know it’s only temporary,’ she said lightly.
‘Maybe.’
Tamsyn heard the sound of his breathing deepening and a quick glance at his supine form told her he’d fallen asleep. Reluctantly she dragged her gaze away from all the unleashed power of his magnificent body and stared out to sea. Out on the horizon was nothing but a deep slash of dark sapphire water and in front of it, the sugar-white grains of sand. The air was still and warm and fragrant and her body felt utterly satiated by Xan’s sublime lovemaking. She wished she could capture that moment and keep it in a bottle.
But she couldn’t.
She couldn’t hold onto any of this. It was slipping through her fingers just like the fine sand on which she lay. She’d agreed to a three-month marriage but now she could see that her decision to put a time limit on their union might have been too hasty. Even reckless. How could she possibly endure another ten weeks of pretending that her feelings for Xan hadn’t changed—when she was putty in his hands after a mere fortnight together?
Behind her dark glasses, Tamsyn blinked away the incipient threat of tears. She’d been told by men in the past that she was cold and frigid. That behind her vibrant exterior was nothing but ice—and she had believed it, because nobody before Xan had ever made her melt. But Xan had. How could she not grow closer to a man when he was inside her and they were staring deep into each other’s eyes? When she became unsure where he began and she ended—as if they were both parts of the same body. That was when wishful thinking found an opportunity to creep into her mind and take root there. Started making her long for things which were never going to happen.
Because none of this was real, she reminded herself. They were just playing make-believe. Her Greek husband had embraced the physical, but his emotional barriers remained firmly in place. And so did hers, if she was being honest. Because otherwise, why hadn’t she just come out and told him about her dad?
She swallowed. She’d never discussed her father, not even with Hannah. Especially not with Hannah—not after what had happened. Perhaps if she’d fallen in love with someone kind and approachable, she might have opened up her heart to him. But Xan wasn’t that man. His lovemaking might be completely fulfilling—but that didn’t detract from his hard and critical side.