Page 42 of Husband for the Holidays

He wrapped his hand over hers and crushed her fist around his girth, moving in her hand as she began to stroke him. She was fascinated and smugly pleased when he closed his eyes and bit out a ragged curse.

He leaned down to kiss her, saying against her mouth, “I can feel you smiling. Do you think I’ll let you take me over the edge without you?” His hand slid down her abdomen and between her thighs, capturing her mound in a possessive cup that pooled water against her flesh, rinsing away the soap before his touch delved into her folds.

Despite the lack of lather, his fingertips slid easily against her aroused flesh. She gasped at the stark intimacy of it, the sensitivity and sparking points of pleasure.

“What if we’re not good together?” he mocked and probed lightly against her entrance. “Do you want this?”

“Yes,” she whispered, not even sure what to expect, only knowing that she wantedmore. More pleasure. More intimacy. More of him.

His long finger penetrated her. It wasn’t painful, but it was strangely intense. Deeply personal, then...

“Oh...” she groaned as he played his thumb across the bundle of nerves that sent pleasure thrumming through her whole being.

“Squeeze me tight,” he urged against the corner of her mouth.

She didn’t know if he meant with her hand or her body, but she was nothing but tension from head to toe, making noises that echoed off the walls of the shower while he danced his touch into her body and against her clit. She gave him her tongue and moved with him, wallowing in how sexy and smutty andgoodit felt.

Then she was teetering at the pinnacle. He held her bottom lip in a gentle scrape of his teeth while his dark eyes turned midnight black.

The tension inside her released in a sudden rush of contractions. She might have been embarrassed by how quickly she’d fallen apart, but he was tilting back his head, groaning at the ceiling while the water rained down and he pulsed in her hand.

After they dried off, he left her in his bed with a lingering kiss, saying, “I need to make some calls.”

“It’s midnight.” She felt like butter and wanted to melt herself all over his toasty form.

“Not in Australia. That’s where your mother’s trustee retired to.” He pulled on the trousers he’d been wearing earlier in the day. “I want to speak to some of my Sydney people about locating him. I don’t know if he has ties to Antoine so they need to be delicate.”

“Oh.” She had thought they might continue making love. Was he being chivalrous or had she done something wrong?

“Sleep. I’ll join you soon.” He rose and walked out.

She tried to stay awake, but all the travel and stress must have caught up to her. She was deeply asleep when she realized Konstantin was rolling away from spooning behind her, leaving the bed.

“What’s wrong?” she asked drowsily, completely disoriented by the sound of him zipping into his trousers. Hadn’t he done that already?

“Some genius ordered the maid to come early so she could pack up all your new clothes.” His voice was graveled with sleep. “Our flight plan is filed for nine.”

“Oh.” She couldn’t help grimacing. “Are you the genius?”

“I am the genius.”

She desperately wanted to duck under the blanket and sleep longer, but as he closed the door she heard him let the maid into the sitting room. She threw off the covers and hurried into the bathroom so she could steal the robe off the back of the door.

The rest of the morning was taken up by travel. They flew straight to Crete, landing in Heraklion before they transferred into a helicopter that hopped them to Konstantin’s mountaintop villa.

It was a spectacular estate, especially when viewed from above. The house sprawled in decadent white wings with pretty balconies and windows that reflected sky and sea. There was a courtyard with a pergola of vines over it and a broad terrace with a pool set into it like a jewel. The roof was covered in solar panels and the surrounding hillsides were skirted with vineyards and olive groves amid the broken walls of ancient ruins.

The path from the helicopter pad toward the house was flanked in bougainvillea and potted citrus trees struggling to bloom in the cool temperatures of December.

A stocky young man hurried out to greet them, black curly hair cut very short, glasses slightly askew.

“Kýrie...Kyría,” he greeted, adding in heavily accented English, “Once again, I must apologize for the confusion with the rooms in Nice.”

“It’s done,” Konstantin dismissed. “Eloise, this is Nemo, assistant to my EA. I was expected to be on vacation, so I’ve been leaning heavily on him this week.”

“I’m honored to meet you,kyría. Welcome to Greece. My number is in your phone. Please call or text me with anything I can do to make you more comfortable here.”

“I was born in Athens,” she said in Greek. “I’m already very comfortable here.”

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