“And then—” She sighed. His touch made her want to curl up against him. It also made her want to ravish him. Could you do both at once? It was an interesting postulate. “And then,” she murmured, “I want something to eat.”
“Uh-huh.” He trailed a hand over her bottom, loving the sweet curves that were warm beneath his palm. “Would that involve whipped cream?”
Sam laughed. “It involves a big steak. Or a dozen scrambled eggs. Or even a peanut butter sandwich.”
“Peanut butter.” He shuddered. “I knew I’d finally learn something terrible about you.” He slid his hands up to her shoulders, raised her towards him and kissed her. “Are you telling me you need sustenance, madam?”
“Such a clever man.”
He kissed her again, more deeply. “At this very moment? Or could you wait for just a little while?”
She sat up, her knees on either side of his hips, her smile filled with temptation. “I’m not sure,” she said softly. “Would you like to explain my options?”
God, how he loved to look at her. Especially when they made love. When he cupped her breasts, as he was doing now. Stroked her aroused flesh. He loved the way her eyes turned black. The way her breathing quickened. The way her skin took on a glaze, like the petals of a cream-colored rose under the kiss of early morning dew.
She was beautiful, this woman rising above him like a goddess.
He rolled his thumbs across her nipples. She sighed his name and he ran his hand over her belly, tried to decide which he wanted more, to enter her again or just to pull her down into his arms and kiss her sweet, swollen mouth.
What was happening to him?
He was hardly a sexual novice. There’d been women in his life since Christmas vacation in his fifteenth year when his father had given him a Lamborghini he was too young to drive and the upstairs maid had given him herself, which he wasn’t. He knew all about sex and took modest pride in knowing he’d never failed to please a woman, but to want one with such ceaseless yearning? To make love to her over and over, and then to find himself erect and wanting her again, when his brain told him such a thing was anatomically impossible?
Why question such a miracle?
And yet he’d questioned it this morning. He’d awakened with Sam in his arms and his mind, and the joy he’d felt had scared the hell out of him.
He’d never wanted a woman to the exclusion of everything else. He’d canceled today’s meeting, made, instead, tentative plans for lunch…and forgotten all about them, now that he thought about it. That was what he’d come upstairs to tell Sam, that the morning had been wonderful and he wanted her to stay here and rest while he went into Piraeus, to meet with his colleagues…and then he’d stepped into the room, found her on her feet and ready to do battle, and he’d been torn between wanting to shake her until her teeth rattled and kissing her until she understood—
Understood what? Hell, he didn’t understand. How could she?
He only knew that ships and shipyards didn’t matter, when he could have this. This, he thought, groaning as she put her hand on him, stroked him from the tip to the base of his straining erection. And this, he thought, as he clasped her hips, lifted her, then slowly brought her down onto his rigid flesh. Her head fell back; her shudder seemed to go straight through his bloodstream, into his heart.
“Sam,” he said, “Sam…”
The words were so close, so near, but he let them spin away. Let the world spin away, in a torrent of sensation.
* * *
He was almost unbearably gentle when he unwound the elastic bandage.
“Does this hurt?” he kept asking, “Does that?”
“No,” Sam told him, but he didn’t believe her and finally she threatened to hobble into the shower on her own.
He swung her into his arms, carried her into the bathroom, fussed over giving her a few minutes of privacy.
“Call me if you feel weak,” he said, and Sam rolled her eyes and said the only thing that would make her feel weak would be the sight of a peanut butter sandwich instead of a rare steak and a huge baked potato within the next half hour.
When she was done, Demetrios carried her into the shower though she insisted she was perfectly capable of getting there on her own.
“No,” he replied, in a tone that would have set her hackles on end just a little while ago.
He bathed her and that took time, lots of time, because there were so many sweet, hidden places that needed his very personal attention. Eventually, he wrapped a towel around his waist, wrapped one around her, and carried her to the bedroom where she was surprised to see some of her own clothes—underwear, shorts, T-shirt—lying on the neatly made bed.
“I phoned down to Cosimia, while you were in the bathroom,” he said with a studied nonchalance that made Sam’s nerve endings go on alert.
“Oh.” She sank down on the edge of the bed, clutching at the towel. It was ridiculous to feel modest but she did. Cosimia knew they were lovers? She would, of course; they’d been in this room for hours. Still, she wasn’t accustomed to sharing bits of her private life with others. “It was kind of her to bring me something to wear.”
Demetrios nodded. He seemed nervous. Sam wondered why.
“It is warm out,” he said.
Yes, definitely nervous. There was that accent of his again. It came and went like the tide.
“So the shorts should be fine, but it you prefer something else…”
“No, no. This is perfect. There’s no reason for Cosimia to go all the way back to the guest cottage.”
“She would not have to.” He took a breath. “All of your things are here.”
Sam stared at him blankly. “What do you mean?”
“I mean that I told her to pack everything.” He waved towards the wall of closets. “Your clothing is there, kitten. So if you wish to choose something else to wear—”
“But why? I live in—”
“This is where you will live, from now on. In this house. This room. With me.”
His tone had become tight and cool. She knew he expected a fight and that she was damned well going to oblige him.
“Did it ever occur to you to ask me if that was what I wanted?”
“No.” Demetrios folded his arms and looked down at her, his expression shuttered. “It did not.”
She wanted to hit him. She’d never hit anybody in her life—well, not unless you counted the Riley kid—and now, twice within who knew how long, she’d wanted to slug Demetrios Karas. This was exactly what she’d been afraid of, that he’d make all kinds of assumptions just because they’d slept together.
“Well, it should have because I’d have said, no, I do not want to share your room. I do not want you making decisions for me. I do not want—”
“What you want,” he said, squatting down before her and clasping her shoulders, “is me. And I want you. Why is that so difficult to admit?”
“Do not, for even a moment, assume you can think for me!” Sam pushed against his chest. “I have never once lived with a man, and I’m not about to start now.”
“Nor have I lived with a woman.”
“I’ll bet. You really want me to believe you’ve never had a woman unpack her things and settle in here?”
“Absolutely. No woman has awakened in this bed until today.”
“You’ve never had a mistress?”
He took a deep breath. “Yes, I have had mistresses.” He felt her tense under his hands and he held her harder, determined to make her listen. “But they have not lived with me. I have not awakened in the morning and shared breakfast with them in this house. I have not gone to sleep at night in my own bed, knowing that the woman who will be in my arms the next morning will have a shiny face free of makeup. I have never wanted that.”
/>
“And now you do?” Sam’s voice shook and she hated herself for it, for wanting to believe him and wanting to throw herself into his arms when she knew, she knew, that it was a terrible mistake.
“Yes, o kalóz mou, I do.”
His arms went around her but she held herself rigid. She could almost see her life shifting, the path that had once run straight and smooth already taking a twisting turn.
“What does that mean? What you just called me? Kalóz mou.”
“It means ‘beloved,’” he said softly, and kissed her, and what could she do after that but put her arms around his neck and kiss him back?
CHAPTER NINE
IT WAS a long, lazy weekend, spent in and out of bed.
Demetrios plied her with cool drinks and concern. Was the elastic bandage too loose? Too tight? Did she want an ice pack? Aspirin?
Sam assured him she was fine. And when, in early evening, they began to dress for dinner and, instead, made love yet again, he stopped and said he should have thought of asking, but he’d assumed…was she protected? She said yes, she was, and drew him back into her arms.
She’d always preferred being responsible for herself in all possible ways. That was why she took birth control pills, even when she wasn’t involved with anybody. She’d forgotten to take one last night but that wasn’t a problem. Taking a double dose, once she’d realized it, made up for the lapse.
Late Saturday evening, they took the helicopter into Athens and drove to a small café for dinner.
“You will like this place,” Demetrios said, as they sped along a winding road high above the sea.
“I will like this place,” Sam echoed, and rolled her eyes. “It’s nice to see that little touch of uncertainty.”
He flashed her a quick grin. “You’ll see, kalóz mou. I’m right.”
He was. The café was small, the view incredible, the food wonderful. And their entrance stopped conversation.
“I’ll bet it isn’t every night a man carries his dinner date through the door,” Sam said, after they were seated.
Demetrios laughed. “We may have started a new trend.”
“Well, we’re going to end that trend. I want a cane.”
“You prefer a cane to the very personalized service you’re getting from me?” He slapped his hand to his heart. “I’m devastated.”