‘Want…want…want you!’
‘Nai…’
His response was as rough-voiced as her own, but he didn’t need speech to show her he understood—and shared—the yearning that was clawing at her deep inside. With a swift, sudden tensing of the powerful muscles in his shoulders and back, he swung her off her feet and up into his arms, turning towards the still open door behind him.
‘Andreas…’
A sudden rush of embarrassment at the thought of being carried through the house like this brought his name to her lips.
‘What if we meet Medora—or Leander—on the way?’
But Andreas shook his head instantly, dismissing her concerns with a smile.
‘We’re all alone,’ he told her with a deep intensity that seared all the way along every nerve path until it made her toes curl tightly in response. ‘No one will bother us. And I’m sure as hell not making love to you on the pool-house floor.’
Becca barely noticed the journey through the house—up the stairs. It was only as Andreas shouldered open a door and carried her over to the bed that she realised where they were.
The master bedroom. The room that should have been theirs when they were married. The room that she had never shared with him—at least to sleep. Had some unconscious part of his mind directed his footsteps this way, or was it simply coincidence?
The question left her head as soon as it had entered it because in the same moment Andreas lowered her to the floor, sliding her down the length of his body as he did so. And before her feet had actually hit the ground, he had hooked his fingers into the thin straps of the swimsuit and peeled them off her shoulders, down to her waist…
His mouth followed the same path, kissing his way from the hollow where her hungry pulse throbbed, and down over the curve of her breast, making her catch her breath in shocked delight.
‘I know, kalloni mou…’
She could hear the smile in his voice, feel it on the lips that caressed her skin, and her own mouth curved into a wide, brilliant smile of pure delight, her head going back as she gave herself up to his skilled caress.
‘It’s how I feel too. How you make me feel.’
His head was moving even lower now as the little that was left of the lavender-coloured costume was eased from her, his mouth caressing every inch of the creamy skin he exposed. When he paused to let his tongue slide into the shallow indentation of her navel, drawing a sensual circle all around it, Becca could not hold back a small cry of response, her hands coming out, clutching at his hair, twisting in the black, silky strands as she held him closer to her.
He was kneeling before her now, helping her to step away from the bundle of lavender Lycra, tossing it aside without even looking, his attention totally focused on pleasuring her. The feel of his kisses over the cluster of dark hair between her legs made her writhe in sensual anticipation in the same moment that she tugged at the hair she held, wanting him closer, needing more of him, his heat against her, the scent of his body enclosing her. She wanted him everywhere, all of him, and every kiss, every touch made her hungrier, needier than ever before.
‘Anypomonos— impatient!’ Andreas laughed, the warmth of his breath feathering over her skin, stirring the curls, whispering around the sensitised opening between her legs. ‘But I like that in you. I like to know that you’re as hot for me as I am for you.’
‘Know it…’ Becca managed in a broken whisper, feeling the flood of need moisten her most intimate core, her breath catching in her throat as he began to kiss her once more—but reversing his path this time, caressing up and up until that tormenting, knowing mouth was pressed against the warm underside of one tingling, aching breast.
‘Know it…’ she said again, this time on a heartfelt sigh. ‘I want you—need you…’
Now that he was upright again she could touch him herself, release her grip on his hair, only to explore more of his powerful male body, letting her needy fingers wander over the hot, tight skin, smooth the potent muscles that flexed and tautened beneath her touch. She didn’t know where she wanted him the most, his hands at her breasts, teasing the straining nipples into harder, tighter peaks, his mouth on hers, his slick tongue probing in heated imitation of the more intimate invasion she longed for. She wanted all of him, above her, on her—inside her.
‘These will have to go.’
It was a muttered reproach as her fingers encountered the waistband of his shorts, tugging impatiently, pushing them down, a sigh of satisfaction escaping her as she exposed the smooth warmth of his waist, the firm, muscled stretch of his buttocks. But then, as the shorts fell to the floor and he kicked them aside, not taking his attention from the devastation his hands and mouth were working on her, she let her hands slide between them, closing over the hottest, hardest part of him and smoothing her thumbs down its straining length. Her heart kicked sharply, her own hunger growing, pooling hotly between her legs as she heard his groan of anguished pleasure.