‘You like it? Really?’ Delighted, Chantal smiled, and Angelos found himself staring hungrily at her mouth. It didn’t matter whether she was smiling, talking or kissing—her mouth was incredible.
Costas was devouring his food with enthusiasm. ‘Don’t listen to Angelos. You can cook for me again tomorrow. If it tastes like this, you can cook for me every day.’
‘I’ll bring the menus to you and you can tell me what you like best. We can adapt them together.’ Chantal reached across the table and took the salt from his hand. ‘Don’t add salt,’ she scolded gently. ‘It isn’t good for you.’
‘I like salt.’
‘The herbs should give you all the seasoning you need.’
Angelos lounged in his chair, watching the spirited interchange in amused silence. It had been years since he’d seen his father so relaxed and content.
Not since his mother was alive.
And there was no doubt who was responsible for the change in him.
Chantal.
She sampled the food on her own plate tentatively, chewing slowly. Then she gave a low, appreciative murmur, the sound so sensual and evocative that his body hardened in an instantaneous response.
Watching her across the table, he decided that his father was correct about one thing—there was something indescribably erotic about a woman who enjoyed her food.
She glanced at him and paused with the fork halfway to her mouth. ‘You’re not eating. Is something wrong?’
Angelos glanced at his plate and realised that he’d forgotten to eat. ‘It’s too hot.’
‘No, it’s not. Maria told me you prefer it served slightly cooler, so that’s what I did. Don’t you like it?’
‘It’s delicious.’
‘Then what’s the matter?’ She put her fork down, her gaze self conscious. ‘You’re staring at me.’
She was the matter. She had a volcanic effect on his libido.
Suddenly he couldn’t wait for the meal to end so that he could take her back to bed.
‘He is not used to being with a woman who eats,’ Costas said cheerfully. ‘The sight is as rare as a snow leopard in the middle of Athens.’
Aware that the faster he ate, the sooner the evening would end, Angelos swiftly finished the food on his plate and then served himself an extra helping just to please her.
He ate quickly, but was forced to wait until his father and Chantal had finished discussing the relative merits of different forms of exercise.
Finally his father yawned and excused himself. Immediately Angelos rose and led Chantal back into the bedroom.
‘Don’t you want coffee?’ She gave a gasp as he pulled her hard against him.
‘No,’ he growled, his mouth sliding down the inviting curve of her neck. ‘I don’t want coffee. Nor do I want fruit or conversation. In fact, agape mou, the only thing I want is you. Naked. Right now.’
Her head tilted back and her eyes drifted shut. ‘Don’t do that. I can’t think when you do that—’
‘I don’t want you to think.’
‘Angelos…’ She gave a low whimper. ‘We only got out of bed a few hours ago.’
‘That was a mistake. We should never have
left the bed.’ He stroked a hand over the curve of her bottom and it was his turn to groan. ‘I can’t decide whether this is your best feature. I need you naked so that I can assess all your qualities together.’
Her fingers dug into his shoulder. ‘My bottom is too big.’