and obsessed with sex. Well, work and sex, she adjusted ruefully. He had expected to take her straight to bed and she had dealt clumsily with those expectations, probably because she was the prude he had labelled her. But the concept of sharing her body with someone she didn’t even know properly had proved too much for Elvi to cope with on the spot. When she couldn’t even imagine taking off her clothes for him, she was in trouble and way outside her comfort zone. Why, oh, why had she ever believed that she could give him what he wanted? That she could simply have sex as if it meant nothing?
And even more inexplicably, why was she just a little disappointed that he hadn’t managed to persuade her to change her mind? He hadn’t even tried to persuade her, had he? Had simply announced that she didn’t suit him, rejecting her because she had dared to reject him. Was that it, then? Were they over before they had even begun?
SALLY CARTWRIGHT PHONED her daughter mid-morning the next day. ‘You’ll never guess what’s happened,’ she burbled in an excited surge. ‘The theft charge has been dropped. No explanation, nothing, just the assurance that the complaint has been withdrawn and the police have no further interest.’
‘My goodness, that’s wonderful news!’ Elvi declared brightly, relief rolling through her in a rejuvenating wave of energy. It was done. Xan had kept his promise.
Elvi texted him a stiff apology for her lack of confidence, resisting the urge to remind him that he hadn’t trusted her either. In truth she didn’t know what she was wishing for. That he had ditched her and moved on? In which case she would be moving home again. Or was she stuck with the agreement she had made?
Xan was still in a temper with her when he read the text. He was done with her, wasn’t he? Last night had been his warning. When you draped a woman in diamonds, threw in a new wardrobe and the use of a very expensive apartment, you expected something in return...obviously. It infuriated him that that conviction made him feel cheap. It infuriated him that he was tempted to walk out in the middle of his working day and stage a rendezvous with her because he still burned for her. After a sleepless night, the urge to possess Elvi’s glorious body was as strong as ever, undaunted by the difficulty of dealing with her unrealistic expectations.
His thought processes were becoming disturbingly insidious and unfamiliar. Every man was entitled to one mistake, wasn’t he? Why shouldn’t he enjoy the mistake he had made and move on afterwards? He texted her that he would be with her that afternoon and endeavoured to get back into the meeting he was in. But he couldn’t concentrate, not for wondering what she would be wearing, what she would look like naked, how she would look when he gave her pleasure. In a passion of rare indecision, Xan breathed in deep and slow and wondered what the hell had taken hold of him. He didn’t like wanting Elvi as much as he did because such urges smacked of immoderation, indiscipline and chaos, every sin he meticulously avoided in life.
Even so, he stood up in the middle of the meeting and abruptly announced his departure. He would have Elvi one single time and then that would be it. Once only, as his mother lamented when she overindulged in chocolate. A treat was one thing, a habit quite another and he did not want a habit like Elvi who took his mind off his work.
Xan texted Elvi.
Coming for lunch.
Was she supposed to cook? Elvi wondered in panic. Or was lunch a euphemism for sex? Was she supposed to greet him in the rather risqué lingerie that had been delivered along with the most massive amount of clothing and accessories earlier that morning? Or was she simply supposed to drape herself somewhere and look inviting? I am not a prude, she told her reflection, and then pinched her cheeks because she looked so pale. Maybe she was a prude in comparison to him because he seemed to be astonishingly free of inhibitions and self-consciousness. Ironically his ability to be that way made her feel rather envious.
Xan didn’t know what he was expecting but he wasn’t expecting to be greeted by lunch or the shocking disarray of the living area, which ran counter to his every conviction of how an interior should be maintained. Something in the process of being knitted lay abandoned on one sofa and a box of sewing supplies sat on the rug. Books spilled across another seat and the coffee table was littered with random items. There was no organisation, no order. He averted his gaze from it all to focus on her, all anxious blue eyes above pink cheeks, glorious hair framing her face. And he had given her a new wardrobe and what was she wearing? An old denim skirt with a faded top and scuffed cowboy boots, he registered in stupefaction.
‘I didn’t know whether you’d be hungry or not,’ Elvi admitted tightly, striving not to stare at him but, oh, it was difficult not to surrender to base and embarrassing promptings. Xan looked like her every fantasy in one devastating package from the black luxuriance of his hair to the flawless hard lines of his breathtakingly beautiful features, all set within the frame of an exquisitely tailored light grey suit, a white shirt and a crimson silk tie.
‘I only have an hour,’ Xan imparted, stunned by the food she had prepared because he had never had a mistress who tried to feed him before.
‘Oh...’
‘I’m only hungry for you,’ Xan intoned huskily while wondering if he should draw up a list of rules to urge her in the right direction—tidy up, don’t feed me, wear the clothes I give you—and then his attention locked onto the voluptuous pink lower lip she was chewing on and the throb at his groin overpowered every other thought and he simply reached for her.
He snatched her up into his arms and kissed her breathless and a sort of giddy, unfamiliar delight pierced Elvi, because Xan Ziakis could wreak havoc on her body with one extraordinary kiss. So, when the kisses piled up, she got lost in them, which in its own way was a relief because it stopped her overthinking stuff and held the nerves at bay. Her arms snaked round his neck as he carried her out of the kitchen and her momentary panic had subsided to be replaced by a helpless sense of anticipation. She was finally coming to terms with the truth that she wanted him too and that there was nothing one-sided about their chemistry.
Abandoned clothing festooned the single chair in the bedroom. Xan ignored the display, for once too caught up in the wonder of Elvi’s response to notice. She tasted like strawberries and the soft damp welcome of her mouth inflamed him. He wanted that wondrous mouth of hers everywhere on him. In fact colourful images were tumbling through Xan’s head and making control a rare challenge. One time only, he reminded himself doggedly, like a man trying to bargain with the devil, as he settled her down on the bed.
‘I need a shower,’ Xan confided, yanking loose his tie beneath her arrested gaze. ‘Join me—’
The prospect of getting naked with him in a shower was a step too far too fast for Elvi and she gave him a tense smile. ‘I’ll just wait here.’
Xan was used to women who did exactly what he wanted when he wanted and he was disconcerted afresh by her reluctance. The instant one of the bathroom doors closed on him, Elvi leapt off the bed to buzz the blinds shut and undress at frantic speed. She had already had two showers that morning, one when she got up, the second after he texted her. She climbed back into the bed naked, every skin cell on high alert for his reappearance.
She wished she weren’t so shy. Prudish, he had called it, but she was painfully aware that what was amiss with her was inexperience and a lack of confidence in her own body. At school the majority of her peers had been skinny and leggy and that had made her feel chunky and unfashionable, for the trendy clothing that had flattered their slimmer curves had done nothing for her very different shape. Nor could she escape
