She couldn’t imagine returning to school as if none of this had ever happened.
Uneasy with the future, unable to answer any of the questions eating away at her, Georgia forced herself to read. She would study. She had to study. Right now preparing for the test was the only thing she could control.
* * *
That evening they met for drinks in the library since the rain hadn’t let up. Nikos had laid a fire and the room was toasty warm.
He’d seated Georgia in one of the oversize wing chairs flanking the fire, and he took the other. The steady drumming of the rain was almost like music. Nikos couldn’t remember when he last felt so comfortable.
He was content.
It had been a good trip to Amorgós. It had been time well spent.
Georgia was studying the fire, and he used the opportunity to study her.
She was so beautiful. So uniquely Georgia Nielsen. Fierce and frustrating, provocative and strong, and ultimately breathtakingly wonderful.
He remembered tracing her face in bed, lightly running his fingertip over her stunning face, following the elegant arc of her winged brows, and then down her straight fine nose, over the generous softness of her full lips.
“You are so incredibly pretty.”
He didn’t even realize he’d said the words aloud until she turned and looked at him, those lovely, tempting lips curving up in a smile.
“I have a feeling blue-eyed blondes are your type,” she said, her voice warm with amusement.
He frowned. “Why did you say that?”
“You were very specific in your quest for a donor. Height, weight, hair color, eye color, ethnic makeup.”
“I also wanted healthy, educated, intelligent—”
“Blonde.” But her lips still curved. “But I’m not shocked. Men have types. Your type just happens to be slender blondes from Scandinavia.”
“No, my type just happens to be you. The world is full of blondes, but there is only one you.”
They ended up eating dinner in the library and then it was just a short walk to his room.
Georgia felt Nikos’s impatience as he shut the door behind him, locking it.
“I’ve never been in here,” she said, looking around. His room was simple with a large elegant bed, low handsome nightstands and a stunning glass chandelier overhead. “It looks Venetian,” she said.
“It is. I have a weakness for Venetian design.”
“Maybe you have some Venetian in your blood.”
He reached for her, drawing her to him. “I know I have you in my blood.” He lifted her face to his, kissing her lightly, his lips brushing over hers, teasing, making her sigh and arch into him.
“Kiss me,” she urged, sliding a hand into the thick, glossy hair at his nape and giving it a little tug. “Make me feel good.”
That was all it took for the simmering heat to ignite.
Nikos deepened the kiss, his lips parting hers even as his hand slid down her back, to the dip in her spine. He pressed her there, urging her closer. She loved the feel of his hand in the small of her back and the way his skin warmed hers from the inside out. She could feel his palm and the press of each finger, awakening nerves, making her spark and tingle.
His tongue teased hers. His hand slipped to her hip and then to the curve of her butt, holding her securely to him, letting her feel the thickness of his erection.
She rubbed herself against him, sighing as his shaft brushed her where she was sensitive. His fingers followed, cupping her there, between her thighs, and then stroking with expert fingers, sending a bolt of white-hot sensation right through her.
“Are you wet?” he murmured at her ear.
“Yes.”
“How wet?”
“You could take me now, here, and I’d come like that.”
“You are too easy.” His teeth nipped at her neck; he stroked and pinched her breast. “We should make this a challenge. Not let you come—”
“No, not fair.”
“Force you to wait, hold back.”
“That will just torture me.”
“But it will make the orgasm even better.”
“I don’t know that I’d survive it.”
He laughed softly, his hands slipping beneath her blouse, circling her waist before sliding up her rib cage to cup her breasts. “I promise you’ll survive. I would never let anything happen to you or hurt you.”
“You have happened to me,” she said, suddenly breathless as he peeled the lace cups from her breasts to rub his palms over her taut nipples. The pleasure was intense. He made her feel wild...desperate.
Before Nikos, she didn’t think she’d ever really been touched before.
She didn’t think she’d ever met a man who understood a woman’s body the way he did. Nikos was a master of sensuality, an expert in seduction, and she wanted it all. She wanted everything he could give her, aware that this might be all they ever had, and it would have to be enough.
Her clothes seemed to fall away, and he drew back to look at her, his dark eyes hot and bright. He examined her from head to toe, ownership in his eyes, along with pride.
It felt good to be wanted...desired...claimed.
“You are so beautiful,” he murmured, brushing a hand across one of her rosy-tipped breasts, her breasts so much fuller now that she was pregnant.
“I think you’ve been starved for attention here on Kamari,” she said.
“I am starved for you,” he answered.
“You had me not even twenty-four hours ago.”
“That was a taste. I want a feast.”
Her cheeks flushed. She burned.
He watched her face as he stroked her nipple again, tugging on the sensitive peak. She gasped at the ache he caused between her thighs. He was making her body so hot, making her wet.
He tugged on the nipple, rolling the tip between his fingers, the sensation sharp and intense, pleasure and pain, and Georgia sucked in air, head spinning, pulse pounding.
“I don’t know that I can stand much longer,” she whispered.
He swung her into his arms and carried her to the bed. His hands and mouth were everywhere, touching, kissing, stroking, licking.
Her eyes closed as she felt his lips close around her nipple, making her body hotter and wetter, and then he lazily traveled between her breasts, down over the curve of her belly. He kissed the point where her thigh and hip came together, waking every little nerve, before kissing her between the thighs, fingers sliding through soft folds, parting them to expose the nub.
The cool air against her was erotic, but there was nothing like his mouth on her, his tongue and lips covering her clit, sucking hard.
She shattered immediately. She couldn’t help it. He was far too good, and she felt far too much.
“That’s what I mean,” he teased, moving behind her to hold her against him. “There is no challenge.”
“Would it be better if I didn’t come?”
“I would find a way to reach you.”
“So confident.”
He kissed the back of her neck, her shoulder. “I blame you. You have made me so.”
And then he turned her on her side, and eased into her from behind. She was wet, and he was thick and hard. She sighed as he buried himself deeply within her before pulling back, nearly withdrawing.
She protested, and he laughed softly, teasing her for a moment before thrusting deep. He reached around to stroke her as he thrust in and out.
The pleasure built, nerves tightening, sensation focusing. She felt hot, and she was breathing harder, panting as each deep, hard thrust pushed her closer to an orgasm, but she fought it this time, not ready to give in, wanting to prolong the pleasure as long as she could.
Making love with Nikos was powerful...electric. The physical act somehow transformed her—them—into something beautiful and new, as if they weren’t two separate people but one.
One body.
One heart.
And then sh
e couldn’t think about anything but the bright, intense sensation rippling through her, sweeping her into a fierce, brilliant, shattering climax. Her body exploded, and dozens of sparkly lights danced in her eyes, in her mind.
Heaven. It was heaven here on earth.
* * *
Georgia opened her eyes to discover Nikos was looking at her. “How long was I asleep?” she murmured.
“A half hour, maybe an hour.”
“Did you sleep?”
“I just woke up.”
She smiled sleepily. It felt so good to fall asleep in his arms and wake in his arms. She loved how beautiful and special he made her feel, as if she were the only woman in the world.
She could see in his eyes now that she was important to him. She could feel it in the way he touched her.
He always put her first, too. Her pleasure. Her comfort. Her release.
She liked that. Loved it. Maybe even loved him.
There, she’d thought it. Admitted it.
She was falling in love with him, and every time they made love, she fell that much harder.
She leaned toward him, brushed her lips across his. “Are you just going to stare at me all night now?” she murmured.
“I was thinking about it.”
She smiled slowly in response to his husky voice and lazy smile.