… only that she did, and she reached for him.
‘At last you wake, agape mou,’ Loukas murmured with a husky chuckle.
‘Uh-huh.’ She captured his head and framed it as she sought his mouth with her own in a piercingly sweet kiss that touched him more deeply than he thought possible.
It unleashed a primitive hunger he fought to control as he shaped her body and entered her in one unrestrained thrust, absorbing her startled cry as her vaginal muscles gripped his hardened length.
For several seemingly long seconds he remained still, gentling his mouth into an erotic supplication, then he began to move, slowly at first as he took her with him, her increasing urgency matching his own as they became consumed by electrifying passion.
Incandescent, primal … she cried out with the force of it, and held onto him, almost afraid to let go in case she shattered into a thousand pieces.
It was almost as if her whole body vibrated with the aftershock of sensation that was more than just sex.
Dear heaven, she couldn’t even find the words to describe how she felt as she buried her mouth in the curve of his neck.
She was barely aware of the soothing brush of his hand along her spine, or the touch of his fingers working a tactile massage at her nape.
There was no sense of the passage of time … just the slowing of her ragged breathing as she became consumed by a sense of dreamy peace. Too emotionally spent to do more than close her eyes and drift easily to sleep.
Loukas slid from the bed as the dawn lightened the sky, then showered; freshly shaven, he dressed in business attire and crossed to the bed and stood looking at his wife’s softened features.
She slept curled to one side, a hand tucked beneath her cheek … rested, replete, her generous mouth slightly parted in the semblance of a smile.
He felt his body stir, and he banked down the urge to take her mouth with his own.
Except it wouldn’t stop there, and regrettably there wasn’t time. Cristos waited in the limousine to drive him into the city where he’d connect with Constantine, field a call from his mother, and attempt to vet the social activities Angelina had undoubtedly planned during his short visit.
Beginning with this evening’s family dinner held in his parents’ home.
Would Alesha recall he’d informed her of the invitation as she rested in his arms through the early morning hours?
Possibly not. Rather than wake her, he’d leave a message with Hera, call between meetings, and issue Cristos with instructions to accompany her wherever she wanted to go.
Alesha woke late, discovered she was alone, and gave a startled yelp as she checked the time.
Nine? Half the morning gone … and where was Loukas?
Then she remembered, and she shifted the bedcovers, took a shower, dressed in casual wear and made her way downstairs to the kitchen.
Hera relayed Loukas’ message, then she made fresh coffee and offered croissants, fresh figs, Greek-style yoghurt, and currant bread with honey.
Alesha chose the figs and yoghurt, washed them down with coffee before taking a walk in the grounds.
The day was warm, the air stirred by a slight breeze, and she admired the meticulously kept garden borders framing beds filled with floral blooms.
Loukas’ mansion nestled against a hillside and offered a stunning panoramic view of the city reaching to the port of Piraeus.
The place of her parents’ birth, where they had grown up and married before choosing to relocate in Sydney.
There was a sense of timelessness, of an ancient age, often violent, as rulers fought for power and glory.
She moved away, and heard the insistent ring of her cellphone as she paused to admire the swimming pool with its blue mosaic tiles, ornamental cupids at placed intervals spouting plumes of water.
The sound of Loukas’ deep, slightly accented voice sent her pulse into a quickened beat.
‘A quick call to say I’ll be caught up all day and not in until around seven,’ he enlightened her. ‘We’re due at my parents’ home at eight.’
‘I’ll ensure I’m ready.’ She waited a beat. ‘Tough day?’
‘Nothing I can’t handle.’ He paused to speak to someone. ‘I’ll see you tonight.’
An event Alesha prepared for with care, electing to wear classic black, killer heels, and subtle make-up with emphasis on her eyes. Hair—upswept or loose?
‘Loose,’ Loukas declared as he entered the bedroom and shrugged out of his suit jacket, then pulled his tie free.
‘You think?’
He crossed to where she stood and framed her face, then kissed her. ‘Shame you’re already dressed. You could have shared my shower.’
‘Not enough time.’
His eyes gleamed. ‘I could always ring ahead and say we’ll be delayed.’
‘But you won’t.’ A wicked smile curved the edges of her mouth. ‘Besides, I prefer a lover with a slow hand.’
He trailed light fingers down her cheek. ‘You’ll keep.’
Constantine and Angelina resided in the southern suburb of Voula, in a luxurious home located at the top of Panorama.
Cristos deposited them at precisely eight, and no sooner did the limousine draw to a halt than the front door opened to reveal Loukas’ parents, who moved quickly down the wide steps to offer an affectionate greeting before ushering them into a spacious foyer where a vision in black stood poised at the base of an elegant staircase.
Lexi, Loukas’ young sister, all grownup in her early twenties, tall, dark-haired, impeccably dressed … the antithesis of the defiant teenager Alesha remembered from five years ago.
‘Hi.’ Lexi hugged him. ‘You’ve given me the best gift of all … a sister.’ She turned towards Alesha. ‘Welcome.’
‘Thank you.’
Lexi offered quietly, ‘Thia Daria is waiting in the lounge to offer a formal greeting.’
Constantine’s sister … a dour spinster, Alesha recalled, with an acerbic tongue, and wondered if perchance she’d mellowed a little since the last time they’d met.
Not a smidgen, if the woman’s severe expression was any indication.
‘So,’ Daria began imperiously. ‘You are the pawn Dimitri offered to save his wretched soul.’
Oh, my, this had all the portents of being a fun night.
‘Hardly his soul.’ She met the older woman’s steely gaze and held it. ‘He took that with him.’
‘I
