bringing her once more to a peak of ecstasy that left her breathless with wonder. Then another appetite struck, and they wrapped themselves in voluminous bathrobes, padded through to the suite’s dining area to partake of a large and filling breakfast.
She caught his hand, staying him. Her eyes huge. ‘Thank you...’ she breathed.
He turned her hand in his, winding his fingers through hers, turning them towards him. Amusement danced in his eyes, but there was another expression there too.
‘Oh, the pleasure was all mine—be very, very sure of that!’
He kissed her nose, lightly and humorously, squeezing her hand, his free hand brushing the loosened locks of her hair caressingly. She was gazing up at him wide-eyed, with that wonder in her expression that did strange things to him. There was wonder in him, too. He’d awakened her senses—but she had awakened in him senses he had not known he possessed.
Satisfaction—deep, consuming and very...well, very satisfying—creamed through him. Whatever his original motives for setting Ellen free from the chains she was bound with, he knew with absolute certainty that what had happened between them—what was still happening—was for quite different reasons. For reasons that had only to do with him being a man and Ellen being a woman, desiring him and being desired.
That is all we need. All I want.
He sat himself down opposite her, reaching for her glass and filling it with fresh orange juice from the jug on the table. His eyes rested on her, appreciating what he was seeing—her loose, tousled hair, the deep vee of her robe exposing the swell of her breasts, the softness in her face, in her eyes, the deep, sensuous glow of a woman who’d spent a night of passion in his arms.
He poured his own orange juice and drank it in one draught, setting down the glass. She was sipping hers in a more genteel fashion, and her gaze was flickering to his, as if she wanted to feast on him but felt a touch of shyness yet. Hunger rattled in him—and not just for the croissants nestling in their napery. He helped himself to one, tearing it open with strong fingers. Then his eyes went back to hers, holding them.
‘We need,’ he announced, ‘to get hold of your passport.’
Ellen started. She’d been in a daze, wanting only to let her eyes gaze across the table at him, to drink him in—the way his jaw was roughened right now, and how enticingly piratical the dark shadow of regrowth made him look, and how there was that glint in his eyes again that could melt her bones like water, and how the towelling robe he wore with such casual ease was so incredibly white against the gold tan of his smooth, half bared chest, and how his strong, lean forearms were reaching for that croissant with fingers that had stroked her body to shuddering ecstasy.
‘What?’ Her eyes widened in confusion.
‘Your passport,’ Max repeated. His expression changed, become amused. ‘So we can visit my eco-resort in the Caribbean. I told you over dinner last night that I needed to go out there.’ Long lashes dipped over his dark eyes. ‘Surely,’ he said softly, ‘you did not think that a single night with you would be enough—did you?’
He watched his words sink in. Words that he had already formed in his own head as soon as he’d awoken. A single night with this woman? No, not enough! Not anywhere near enough!
Across from him he saw her reaction—saw for the fraction of a second indecision hover in her eyes and then vanish.
Her face lit, and inside her head words were singing suddenly.
Go with him! Go with him while he wants you—because he does want you. Because this time is the most wonderful of your life so far. So seize it—seize it all. Take what you’ve never had before and wring from it every last drop. After all, why not?
Max Vasilikos had given her a gift she had never, never thought to possess—the gift of her own beauty. The gift of himself desiring her.
Wonder, joy and gladness filled her to the brim.
‘There are no walls!’ Ellen exclaimed as they walked into the room. It was situated in one of the cabanas that had already been constructed, at one end of the resort, and was cantilevered over a low, rocky bluff that jutted right out over a sheltered bay on the tiny islet.
‘Just mosquito nets,’ agreed Max. He strolled up to the missing outer wall, where an area of decking gave some outside space to meld interior and exterior seamlessly. ‘Like it?’ he asked as Ellen walked up to join him, resting her hands on the balustrade above the tumbling rocks.
A little wooden staircase to their left led down to the white sand beach a few metres below. An azure sea lapped lazily, beckoning to her with seductive allure.
She twisted her head to look at him. Made a face. ‘Oh, no, it’s awful—honestly, how could you bring me to such a place? I mean, there isn’t a nightclub for miles, and there’s no gourmet restaurant with a signature chef, and, I mean, there isn’t even a wall, for heaven’s sake!’
In the hours it had taken them to arrive here the very last remnants of her shyness and uncertainty in his company had vanished. Gone completely. Now she was at ease with him, daring to laugh with him, be confident with him, to tease him as she was doing now.
He kissed her to silence her and they both laughed into the kiss, and then Max tightened his hold and deepened his kiss. ‘There is, however,’ he told her, ‘a bed—a very large, king-sized bed—and the mattress is very, very high spec... I promise you.’
It was, too, and suddenly all jet lag was gone, and energy and the fires of arousal leapt within her, dismissing all other thoughts.
‘I wanted to swim in the sea,’ was her last muffled cry as he swept her off to the bed.
‘Later...’ Max growled.
Afterwards, as they lay exhausted in each other’s sated embrace, it came to him that for a woman who had only a handful of days ago regarded herself as completely repellent to the male race, she was, in fact, taking to this like a natural. As if she’d been born to be in his arms...
Ellen waded out of the water, feeling the heat of the sun on her body immediately, even through her sopping wet T-shirt. Her snorkel and mask dangled loose in her hand.
‘Lunch?’ asked Max, glancing at her and admiring the way the wet T-shirt material clung to her generous breasts. Desire stirred in him. Maybe they could wait for lunch for a while?
‘Definitely,’ agreed Ellen, dashing his hopes, or at least deferring them until a post-lunch siesta.
Ellen glanced fondly at him. The days had slipped by, one after another, each one glorious. They’d swum and snorkelled, sailed and kayaked, and Ellen had done a beginner’s dive while Max, with years of experience, had gone for a serious deep water session.
She’d accompanied Max as he’d inspected the resort site, talking to his project manager, the architect and the work crew who came across
