Page 30 of Virgin's Night with the Greek

The tension gripping her was becoming unbearable, but just when she thought she could stand it no more, he found her nub and caressed it in the way she so badly needed, and the tingles that had started in her toes swept up her legs, her body, her arms. She could feel a tsunami of something hot and insistent rushing towards her and suddenly, without warning, a volcano of pleasure erupted inside her. It rushed like molten lava through her body, shaking her limbs and jerking her head back.

And as she fought for breath, half gasping, half laughing, the fireworks still exploding behind her eyes, she’d never felt so ecstatic, so relieved, so clever.

‘What are you doing?’

Sitting cross-legged on the sofa that stood beneath one of the four windows of the bedroom two mornings later, Willow glanced up from the artist’s pad in her lap to find Leo lying on his side, propped up on one elbow. He was watching her with a sleepy yet smouldering gaze that, remarkably, had the power to triple her heart rate and rekindle the desire even though after every delicious thing they’d done together recently she ought to have had enough.

‘Sketching you,’ she said, heroically resisting the urge to ditch the drawing and return to the bed in which they’d spent much of the past glorious thirty-six hours because her body badly needed a break. ‘The light here is incredible. Do you mind?’

‘Are you planning to put the end result on show?’

‘No. This is solely for me. Something to remind me of the weekend. Not that I’m likely to forget it anytime soon.’

‘Then I don’t mind.’ Leo punched his pillow into shape and rolled over onto his front. ‘Just don’t expect me to pose,’ he said, his words muffled by the feathers and fabric. ‘I’m barely capable of moving.’

‘You can stay right where you are.’

Which was sprawled diagonally across the super king-size bed, naked apart from the white sheet that lay bunched over his buttocks and upper thighs, quite the sight for sore eyes.

The morning sun streamed in through the window, giving his bronzed skin and splendid musculature a lovely iridescent glow. There was no inch of him that she hadn’t explored. No part of him that she hadn’t tasted. Capturing the salty, satiny heat of his skin and the giddying power of his body on paper was an impossible task, but she was giving it her best shot.

‘You look very sexy in my shirt,’ he murmured, eyes still half-shut.

Willow smudged a line and shivered in awareness as the soft crumpled linen she’d taken a liking to brushed against her body. ‘You look very sexy out of it.’

‘What time is it?’

‘Around ten.’

‘I haven’t slept so late in years.’

‘We’ve been busy.’

His mouth twitched with the faintest of smiles. ‘I haven’t been so busy in years either.’

Was the mighty surge of satisfaction and pride his words invoked normal? Willow allowed herself a moment to preen, then got a grip because it didn’t mean she was special or anything. It probably just meant that he rarely had a weekend spare to indulge in such things.

‘How do you normally spend your Sunday mornings?’ she asked, tilting her head and determinedly studying his right foot, which was as absurdly alluring as the rest of him.

‘Generally, I’m in Athens preparing for meetings I then fly to.’

‘Such as the merger in New York?’

‘Yes. Althoughthatmorning I spent pacing around the apartment in a state of guilty remorse.’

‘You’ve more than made up for it,’ she said, vaguely wondering why she found feet so difficult to capture. ‘I had no idea experimenting would be so rewarding.’

‘How do you feel?’

Now, there was a question.

Giving up on his big toe, Willow tapped her pencil against her chin and tried to formulate an answer. The last thirty-six hours had been incredible. Once her fears had been overcome and her passion unleashed, she’d been insatiable. So many positions. So much pleasure. Not everything they’d tried had worked for her, but on those occasions, it hadn’t been awkward at all. Leo had been endlessly patient and her confidence had rocketed, and she’d begun to ponder the pros and cons of carefully timed, short-lived flings in the future.

‘Amazing,’ she said, wondering how on earth she could sum up the myriad emotions rushing around her system. ‘Relieved. Grateful. Optimistic. Very happy I accepted your proposition.’

‘I meant physically.’

Ah. She flushed. She’d forgotten that this weekend wasn’t as momentous for him as it was for her. ‘I ache,’ she said, determinedly switching her focus from the intangible to the tangible. ‘And I’m sore. But in a good way. I’ve discovered muscles—and stamina—I didn’t know I had.’

---