the surface. ‘I live my life the way I want to live it. Right now I’d like to attend my own party. Shall we go?’
Everyone was staring, some discreetly over the top of their champagne glasses and some more openly. But all the glances revealed the same emotion.
Shock.
Feeling like a caged bird suddenly released to freedom, Selene took another glass of champagne just because she could.
Stefan frowned. ‘Are you sure you should drink that?’
‘Do you know one of the best things about tonight? The fact that all of it is my decision. I decided to come to the party, I decided what dress I’d wear and now I’m deciding to drink champagne.’
‘Just as long as you realise you’re also choosing to have a crushing headache in the morning.’
‘It will be worth it.’ She drank half the glass and smiled up at him. ‘Champagne makes everything feel more exciting, doesn’t it?’
‘The second glass does that. After the third I doubt you’ll remember enough about what happened to be excited. I advise you to switch to orange juice.’
‘If it’s going to give me a headache then I’ll find that out for myself.’
‘I’ll remind you of that when you’re moaning in the bathroom.’
She laughed up at him, forgetting the people around them. ‘How many glasses of champagne do you have to drink before you’ll kiss me in public?’
His eyes gleamed. ‘I don’t need to be intoxicated for that, koukla mou.’
‘In that case—’ her voice husky, Selene closed her fingers around the lapel of his jacket and closed her eyes ‘—kiss me.’ Just in case it never happened again. Just in case tonight was the only chance she was going to get to kiss a man like him.
Anticipation washed over her skin and she waited to feel the brush of his mouth over hers, barely aware of the hum of conversation or the music around her as her imagination took over her mind. But he didn’t kiss her. It was a moment of elongated suspense designed to torture her, and just when she’d started to think she was going to remember this moment as the most humiliating of her life she felt the tips of his fingers slide over her jaw.
She opened her eyes and met his, her heart pounding a crazy rhythm.
There was a brief silence and then he slid his hand behind her head and drew her face to his. ‘What is it about you? I should walk away, but I can’t.’
Desire was an ache low in her belly. ‘I’m hanging onto your jacket. That could be the reason.’
He didn’t smile. He didn’t say a word.
For a breathless moment Selene saw something flicker in those dark eyes and then he lowered his head slowly, his eyes locked on hers. Until that moment she’d never known that a look could have a physical effect, but she felt that look all the way through her body in a rush of heat that spread right through her.
The anticipation was so acute it was almost painful—and he knew it because that sensual mouth curved slightly as he prolonged expectation.
And then the warmth of his breath brushed against her lips and she felt his free hand slide down her back and settle low on her waist as he drew her into contact with him.
She felt hardness and heat and suddenly doing this didn’t feel like light-hearted fun any more. In his eyes she saw no trace of humour. Just raw, untamed male sexuality. She realised in a flash that he was controlling every second of this encounter. The pace. The intensity. Even her response. He was in charge of all of it.
And suddenly she knew that exploring her own sexuality with this man was like deciding to buy a pet and choosing a tiger. He was everything that wasn’t tame or safe. Everything dangerous. Everything she’d dreamed of during those long nights when she’d imagined her life looking different.
Her mind in fast rewind, she tried to pull away. But his hand was hard and warm on her back and he held her exactly as she’d dreamed of being held.
‘Close your eyes, champagne girl.’ His soft command slid into her bones and she felt as if she’d just jumped off a high diving board with no opportunity to change her mind before she hit deep water.
And then his mouth touched hers and she forgot all of it as she melted under the skill of his kiss. He kissed her with erotic expertise, teasing her lips with his tongue, driving her wild with each movement of his mouth until her head was spinning and her thoughts were an incoherent blur.
It was, without doubt, the most perfect, exciting moment of her life and she wrapped her arms around his neck, her body quivering as she felt the evidence of his arousal pressing against her.
The fact that he wanted her was as intoxicating as the feelings he whipped up inside her with nothing but the skill of his mouth.
‘Maybe you should get a room. I know the man who owns this villa. I could put in a good word for you if you like?’
A light female voice cut through her dreams and Selene would have jumped away from him had it not been for the fact that Stefan kept her locked firmly against him.
‘Your timing is less than perfect, Carys.’
‘I thought it was absolutely perfect.’
Bitterly disappointed by the interruption, Selene stole a glance at the other woman, wondering who she was.
The woman was stunning, her smile cool as she extended a hand to Selene. ‘I’m Carys. And you’re Selene.’
It gave her a jolt that someone recognised her. Stupidly, she hadn’t even thought of that. ‘You know me?’
‘Of course. It’s just unusual not to see you with your parents. You’re such a close-knit family.’
Selene kept her smile in place. This was the part she was used to playing and she played it well. ‘It’s nice to meet you.’
‘Mmm. And you.’ Carys raised her glass to her lips, admiration in her eyes as she looked at Stefan. ‘I have to hand it to you, occasionally you display a Machiavellian genius beyond anything I’ve ever encountered. Game, set and match, Stefan.’
Selene, who assumed that this coded exchange related to their relationship, stayed silent as Carys scooped two glasses of champagne from a passing waitress and handed one to her.
‘Let’s drink to your existence.’
She saw Stefan frown slightly and remembered what he’d said about not drinking any more champagne, but she couldn’t bring herself to ask for orange juice in front of this sophisticated woman so she tapped her glass against hers and drank.
The alcohol fizzed into her veins and boosted her confidence. She wanted to dance but no one else seemed to be and when she asked why, Carys looked amused.
‘Dancing makes one—hot.’
‘Does that matter?’ She started to sway on the spot and the other woman smiled.
