Page 11 of The Konstantos Marriage Demand

Not just the house—not even though it was the home that she loved, that her mother needed. It wasn’t anything to do with Thorn Trees or even her angry frustration at not being able to persuade Nikos round to her way of thinking that was twisting a brutal knife in her devastated heart. Instead it was the sudden terrible sense of loss that she’d known in the moment she’d looked into Nikos’s eyes as he came close to her.

She’d armoured herself against this meeting. Told herself that what she had once felt for him was all over, that time had healed the scars and put a distance between her and the love she had once felt for this man. That his final betrayal and the way he had behaved since, the terrible revenge he had exacted so cold-bloodedly, had left her immune to him, not even hatred surviving of the onslaught of feelings she had been through.

But if this was immunity, then she would hate to have to try and face a fully developed fever! Her whole body was fizzing with awareness, coming to burning life in response to just that one, tiny touch.

No—not just the touch. She was responding to the look in his darkened eyes, the scent of his skin, the sound of his voice, even of his soft breathing, his very presence. Everything about him made her burn as if she stood in the direct line of the sun. And yet, contradictorily, it held her frozen to the spot, unable to move or look away. And hunger, dark and disturbing physical craving, throbbed like a heavy pulse in her blood.

‘It’s not just a house,’ she tried again, hoping to stir him into movement, away from her.

But it seemed that Nikos too had fallen under something of the same spell. After that one harsh question he stood as transfixed as her. His eyes locked with hers, his burning gaze so fixed, so unwavering that it seemed he barely even blinked. And Sadie sensed rather than actually saw the way his long tanned throat moved as he swallowed deeply.

‘Sadie…’ he said at last, his voice seeming to be becoming unravelled at the edges.

And the sound of her name on his lips had the effect of stabbing a stiletto dagger right into the centre of her heart, so that it jolted once, violently, then started pattering rapidly, high up in her throat, making it so very difficult to breathe naturally. His accent had deepened shockingly on the sound, making it raw and rough, disturbingly like the times that she heard him speak her name in the burn of passion, deep in the darkness of the night.

Memory dried her mouth again and nervously she licked her lips to ease the sensation. The water seemed to have done nothing at all to ease her thirst, or if it had then the moisture had evaporated in the heat that his touch had sent rushing through her.

‘Sadie…’ Nikos said again, and at long last the finger that rested so lightly on her cheek moved softly.

But not to move away from her, not to break the contact with her skin. Instead, his touch simply shifted, adjusted slightly, smoothing down one side of her cheek to curl under the fine line of her jaw, lifting her chin. She heard his harshly indrawn breath, watched those heavy black eyelashes close slowly, then open again as the burning bronze of his gaze blazed into her.

And he bent his head to kiss her.

It felt as if she had been waiting for it for so long. As if it was the kiss she had been waiting for all her life. It was shocking, heart-stopping in its gentleness. In anyone else she might even have called it hesitancy, but there was nothing hesitant about Nikos’s taking of her mouth. It was slow, it was sensual, it was totally sure of what he was doing—the effect it was aiming for. It was pure seduction, aimed right at her libido and having exactly the effect that he wanted.

Sadie’s fingers softened, her grip on the water glass loosening so that it fell to the floor. She vaguely heard the splash of water, the thud of the tumbler bouncing on the thick wool of the rug.

But after that she knew nothing else. Nothing but Nikos and the warmth of his body all around her. The strength of his arms as they gathered her close. The pressure of his mouth on hers and the magic it was working as he eased her lips open, slid his tongue along the edge and into the warm softness of her mouth.

His hands slid up her back, into her hair, tangling in the dark silky strands. He twisted his fingers around them, using them to hold her head just where he wanted as he increased the pressure, forcing her to open to him even more.

She was drowning in a dark, heady world of sensuality. Lost to reality and aware only of the responses of her body, following blindly where Nikos led. She was soft and malleable in his hands, unable to think for herself or find any trace of will to call her own. Her own hands lifted, arms winding themselves around his neck, drawing his proud head down even closer, taking the kiss into another dimension, another stage of hungry sensuality.

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