Ivy moved out, the agency sent her to Milan, moved her into an apartment with five other girls. She sent Kay cards and letters that all went unanswered until she made the cover of Glamour Girl and Kay called to say she was so sorry they’d lost touch and how proud she was to be her sister…
“Glyka mou?”
Ivy spun around as Damian walked out onto the balcony. He’d pulled on his sweatpants. They hung low on his hips, accentuating his naked chest, muscled shoulders and arms, the abs most male models worked like machines to develop.
Beautiful. He was so beautiful. And so good and decent and kind…
“Sweetheart.” He gathered her into his arms. “What’s the matter?”
She shook her head, not trusting herself to speak, afraid that if she did, the lump that had suddenly risen in her throat would give way and she’d burst into tears of joy.
“Agapimeni.” He tilted her face to his and brushed his lips gently over hers. “Tell me what’s happened. Why did you leave me?”
I’ll never leave you, she thought. Never, not as long as you want me!
“I just—” She swallowed, blinked away the silly burn of tears. “I woke up and—and I could still hear the storm, way off in the distance, and I wanted to—I wanted to see…”
Smiling, he cupped her face and threaded his fingers into her hair.
“A little while ago, you were afraid of the storm.”
“That was before you made me see I had nothing to be afraid of.”
Something dark flickered in his eyes. “Never,” he said fiercely. “Not as long as I’m here to protect you.”
Her heart lifted. How wrong she’d been about this man. Arrogant? Overpowering? Never. He was simply sure of himself, and strong.
And tender. And caring. And she felt—she felt—
“It was more than the storm you feared.” His arms tightened around her. “Do you want to tell me about it?”
Yes. God yes, she did! But not yet. Not now. Not when her feelings were so new, so confused.
“It’s all right.” He kissed her. “You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to tell me.”
“It isn’t that. It’s just…?
? She hesitated. “What’s happened. This. It’s all so—so new…”
“You mean, us,” he said. When she nodded, he lifted her in his arms and carried her through the French doors. Gently he lay her on the bed and came down beside her.
“Are you happy?”
She smiled. “I’m very happy.”
Slowly he eased the cashmere blanket from her shoulders, revealing her breasts, her belly, her body to his eyes.
“You’re the most beautiful woman in the world,” he whispered. “And I’m the luckiest man.”
He dipped his head. Kissed her throat. Bent lower and circled a nipple with the tip of his tongue.
Ivy trembled. “Oh. Oh God, that feels—it feels—”
He licked the nipple. Sucked it into his mouth. She wound her arms around his neck, stunned at the sudden sharp longing low in her belly.
“How does it feel?” he said gruffly. “Tell me.”
“Wonderful. Damian. It feels—”