do.’ He brushed a reflective finger down over her spine. ‘Have you thought how you’re planning to get out of this dress? Unless you’re something of a contortionist you might have something of a problem, since it has about a hundred hooks.’
Jessica was trying not to react to the brush of his finger and she cursed the restrictive fastenings intended to give her an hourglass shape. She knew what he was suggesting but the thought of him helping her undress seemed all wrong. Yet what else was she going to do? Patti and the crew were in some unknown bar in an unknown city, and, short of waiting for them to return, she certainly couldn’t undo it herself.
‘Would you mind?’ she said casually, as if it didn’t bother her one way or the other.
‘No, I don’t mind,’ he said, just as casually, as he followed her into the suite.
It was the most beautiful place she had ever stayed in, but Jessica barely noticed the carved furniture or the beautifully restored antique piano which stood beneath a huge chandelier. Even the stunning view over the Grand Canal and the magnificent dome of the Salute church couldn’t distract her from the thought that Loukas was here, in her hotel room.
‘Aren’t you going to turn around and look at me, Jess?’ he questioned softly.
She cleared her throat, wondering if he could hear her nervousness. ‘You’re supposed to be undoing my dress,’ she said. ‘And you can’t do that unless I have my back to you.’
There was a split second of a pause. She thought she heard him give a soft laugh as he unclipped the first hook, and then the second. She wanted to tell him to hurry up and yet she wanted him to take all the time in the world. She could feel the rush of air to her back as he loosened the gown and she closed her eyes as another hook was liberated. Was this how women used to feel in the days before they were free to wear short dresses and trousers, or go without a bra? A sense of being completely within a man’s power as he slowly undressed her?
Her breath caught in her throat because now there was a contrast between the air which had initially cooled her skin being replaced by the unmistakable warmth of a breath. Her eyelashes fluttered. Was he...was he breathing against her bare back?
Yes, he was.
It felt like the most intimate thing imaginable. She swallowed, because now his lips were pressing against the skin and he was actually kissing her there.
Her eyes closed. She knew she ought to say something but every nerve in her body was telling her not to break the spell. Because this was anonymous, wasn’t it? It was pleasurable and anonymous, and she didn’t have to think. She didn’t have to remember that this was Loukas and that there was bad history between them. She didn’t have to look into those gleaming black eyes or see triumph curving his lips into a mocking smile. All she was conscious of was the feel of his lips brushing against her and the hot prickling of her breasts in response.
The dress had slid down to her hips and his hands were moving to skim their curves as if he was rediscovering them. Luxuriantly, he spread his fingers over the flesh and she thought she heard him give a sigh of pleasure. She swallowed, but still she didn’t say anything, because it was easier to play dumb. To want it to continue yet not be seen to be encouraging it. Her heart began to beat even faster because now he had started brushing his fingers over her lacy thong and with that came a wave of lust so strong that it washed away the residual grains of her conscience.
‘Mmm,’ he said as the dress fell to the ground, pooling around her ankles and leaving her legs completely bare. He was kissing her neck and his fingers were hooking into her panties and she felt a molten rush of heat.
She knew she should stop him. But she couldn’t. She just couldn’t. It had been so long since she had done this and she was cold. So cold. And Loukas was making her feel warm. Warmer than she’d felt in a long time.
His fingers had moved from her hip and were now inside her panties, alighting on her heated flesh with a familiarity which seemed as poignant as it was exciting.
‘It’s been a long time,’ he said almost reflectively, drifting a fingertip across the engorged bud.
Jessica’s body jerked with pleasure. She wanted to say something—anything—as if to reassure herself that she was still there and that it was all real. But the words simply wouldn’t come. His touch had robbed her of the power to speak. Her breath had dried in her throat and all she could think about was the hunger building up inside her and dominating her whole world. Her thighs seemed to be parting of their own accord and she felt the warmth of his breath as he smiled against her neck.
‘You are very wet, koukla mou,’ he murmured.
She swallowed as her eyes closed. ‘Yes.’
‘Wet for me?’
‘Y-yes.’
‘Have you been imagining me touching you here?’
‘Yes!’
‘And...here?’
‘God, yes.’ Jessica gasped, even though his words seemed to contradict his actions. Because what he was saying was provocative, but strangely cold. He was objectifying her, she realised with a brief rush of horror and she tried to pull away. To end it while she still could. But by then it was too late because she was starting to come and he was giving a low laugh of triumph as he swivelled her round to cover her mouth with his, his hand still cupping her flesh while his kiss drowned out her broken cry of surrender.
His tongue was in her mouth as she pulsated helplessly around his finger and the combination of that double invasion only increased her pleasure, until she thought she might have slid to the ground, if he hadn’t been holding onto her so tightly. Time passed in a slow, throbbing haze before her eyelids fluttered open to find Loukas watching her, still with that faintly triumphant smile on his face. Slowly, he withdrew his finger and she noted that it wasn’t quite steady.
‘Jess,’ he said and picked her up and carried her into the bedroom to lie her down on the bed.
‘Loukas,’ she whispered, and the tip of her tongue came out to slide over her parted lips.
Loukas felt the savage beat of his heart as he looked at her glistening mouth and his erection was so hard that it took him a moment or two before he was able to move. He wanted to tear off his clothes and just take her. But not yet. Not until he was in control of his feelings. Until he was certain that he was in no danger of being trapped by the powerful spell she had always been able to weave around him.
He tried to study her objectively as he shrugged off his overcoat and hung it over the back of a chair, then went back towards the bed on which she lay. Strange that she should have been so cold and uptight in front of the camera today and yet had fallen apart the moment he’d touched her. But hadn’t that always been her way? He gave a bitter smile. The only time he’d ever been able to penetrate her haughty exterior—in more ways than one—was when she was naked and writhing beneath him. Because outside the bedroom, or the sitting room, or the car—or wherever else they happened to have been doing it—she had always been the very definition of cool.
But not now.
Her eyes were smoky, her face flushed with satisfaction and her thighs parted in such open invitation that he was almost tempted to bury his head between them and lick her. He thought how at home she looked, lying back against the brocade covering the
