Constantine's Defiant Mistress

‘If that’s what you’d like me to be,’ he declared evenly, but her bright mood had affected him too, and he smiled.

Their destination turned out to be a beautiful stone house set back from the beach—but its simple beauty went unnoticed because they were barely inside the door before Constantine started kissing her and tugging at the zip of her dress.

‘Aren’t you g

oing to…show me around?’ she gasped.

‘Aren’t you?’ he countered, and then closed his eyes as his fingers found her soft breasts. ‘Come on, Laura. Show me around your body, oreos mou, show me deep inside your body—for that is the only place I want to go right now.’

His erotic words only spurred on Laura’s own frantic desire. Half-clothed, they sank onto the marble floor—its cool surface contrasting perfectly with his hot flesh as it covered hers, their gasps morphing into ecstatic shuddered cries which split the silence.

Afterwards, they lay there—both with a fine dew of sweat drying on their skin—and Constantine stroked the mass of blonde hair which clouded her shoulders.

‘Hot?’

‘Boiling.’

‘Fancy a swim?’ he questioned idly.

Lazily, she stirred against his body, and yawned. ‘I didn’t bring a costume.’

Regarding her discarded panties, he splayed his hand possessively over one bare, warm globe of her bottom. ‘Who says you’ll need one? You can swim naked, my beauty.’

‘Providing fodder for any passing voyeurs?’ she said primly, even though she shivered beneath his touch and at the blatantly untrue compliment which had sprung from his lips.

Constantine laughed. ‘It’s utterly private and we won’t be observed by a soul,’ he said softly. ‘That’s why I brought us here. To see your body by daylight—for I am tired of having to be furtive. Of having to sneak into your room at night as if we are committing some sort of crime. I want the freedom to cry out when I come, and to watch while you do, too. To watch you walk around unfettered. I want to have sex with you in the sea, Laura,’ he said thickly. ‘Oreos mou, I want to have sex with you all day long—until our bodies are exhausted and our appetites sated.’

It wasn’t the most romantic declaration she had ever heard, but it echoed Laura’s own haunting desire for him. With her body she could show him her passion, even if her heart and her lips were prevented from giving voice to it. You could love a man with your lips in a different way than using them to tell him, she thought. And Constantine was right—the freedom to behave without constraint was completely intoxicating…

The afternoon sun was still bright when they drove back. Laura tried to tell herself that they were too exhausted for much conversation, but it was more than that. Her head was full of spinning thoughts.

Constantine had remained true to his vow that he was going to make love to her until they were both exhausted—she had never known that it was possible for desire to be ignited over and over again. He had made love to her on the beach, and then carried her down to the sea to wash the grains of sand from her skin. But the act of washing had awoken their sensual hunger once more—he had made her gasp and giggle until at last he had pulled her wet body against his and let the sea foam surge deliciously over their nakedness. Slippery and salty, she had let him part her legs beneath the water and felt their warm flesh join once more beneath the waves. And Constantine had been right—the freedom to make love without worrying about being overheard or seen was utterly intoxicating.

She thought about the party which lay ahead, and which until fairly recently would have terrified the life out of her. But that had been before this journey here to Livinos—a journey which had taught her as much about herself as about Greek life.

It had taught her that she loved the man who sat beside her, despite his cold heart which had been so damaged in his own childhood that it seemed to have no hope of healing. She loved him because he was Alex’s father—but she suspected that she had loved him all those years ago, when she had given him her virginity so joyfully on that warm summer night. For wasn’t love at first sight both the great dream and yet the admittedly rare reality of human relationships? Even if it hadn’t been reciprocated it didn’t mean it had necessarily gone away—and since she had become his lover that feeling had been growing as inexorably as a new shoot towards the spring sunshine. Hadn’t the afternoon they’d just spent added to the magic?

She glanced at his hard and rugged profile as he stared at the coastal road ahead. The wind whipped through the black, tousled curls and the dark glasses shaded his eyes against the light—preventing her from reading anything of his own thoughts.

But who was she kidding? Those ebony eyes never gave anything away. And neither did he. He could buy her new dresses so that she wouldn’t disgrace him at his fancy party—but he couldn’t give her any of his heart or his soul even if he wanted to. He had locked those away a long time ago.

Back at the villa, they parted without a kiss or embrace—only the briefest of glittering looks from Constantine reminding her of how they’d spent the afternoon.

‘I’ll see you later,’ he said softly, and resolutely turned his back on her before he was tempted to kiss her again.

Laura watched him go. Maybe for him it had just been an afternoon of amazing sex, she thought. He probably wasn’t—like her—stupidly reliving every glorious second of it and pretending that it had anything to do with emotion.

It was with heightened colour that she went off to find Alex, who was now playing tennis with Stavros.

He waved his arm at her in greeting, and then adopted a fierce expression on his little face, wanting desperately to show his mother how good he’d become at the game.

How he’d grown to love sport, she thought tenderly. She stood by the side of the tennis court and watched as her son batted the ball over the net with what looked like incredible natural skill to her proud, motherly eye. Alex had been on a journey too, she recognised—he had realised some of his own dormant talents as well as getting to know his Greek family. And deep down she knew that nobody would ever dare bully him again. Laura watched as they changed ends, wondering once again how on earth he would ever be able to bear to leave this paradise of a place to go back to the very different life he knew in England.

She went to her room and showered off the sand, slipping into jeans and a T-shirt before surveying the garments Constantine had bought her, which someone had hung up in her wardrobe while she’d been out at the beach house. And although she’d told herself that she wasn’t going to swoon over a few expensive articles of clothing she found herself doing just that.

Finest silk, cashmere and organza were here—represented in gowns which unbelievably fitted her like a glove. She twirled in front of the mirror in a vivid emerald silk. Though maybe it wasn’t unbelievable at all—for wasn’t Constantine one of those men who seemed to instinctively know more about a woman’s body than she did?

But Laura didn’t have a clue about dressing up. She’d never had the time, the money or the opportunity before—and suddenly she found herself longing for advice. Surely she could phone Sarah? She hadn’t spoken to her sister for ages, and she missed her. With her artistic streak, Sarah had a brilliant eye and knowledge of clothes—she’d know which of these dresses would be most suitable.