Once the sun had set, Joseph and Mrs. Ballas loaded the girls into the van he had waiting to take them back to the house. Joseph would stay behind with another guard as inconspicuous security while Constance and Luca had their own private photo op. A necessary evil to keep the circus at bay when possible. She wasn’t sure what he had in mind. He’d earned a lot of goodwill and cooperation from her that day, but she wasn’t going to have sex on the beach or anything, no matter how wonderful Luca had been.
Luca left her for a moment to have a quick word with Joseph, who stood with the other guard a discreet distance away. Close enough to help if they needed it, but far enough away they had at least the illusion of privacy. Luca came back with a guitar in one hand and a bottle of champagne and two glasses in the other.
She raised an eyebrow. “You play?”
“Occasionally,” he said, his lips stretching into a slow, sexy smile that had her heart pounding and her body aching for him.
If he could do all that with a smile, she was a goner if he touched her.
He set the guitar down and opened the champagne, handing her a glass. She sipped a little too quickly, needing something to take the edge off. With the girls gone, things had gone from safe to intensely intimate, even with the lurking presence of security and the paparazzi she figured were out there somewhere.
It didn’t help that he wasn’t speaking, just sitting there, drinking his champagne and watching her watch him, that smile still on his lips, sitting so close the heat from his body warmed hers even though he didn’t touch her. He knew the effect he was having on her. Damn him. He was enjoying every second of it.
“It was a wonderful day, Luca. Thank you,” she said when she couldn’t stand the silence anymore.
“You’re welcome. I found it rather pleasant myself.”
“You sound surprised.”
“I am. I’ve always loved to ride. Having you in front of me while we rode would have been immensely pleasurable. We’ll have to do that next time.”
The heated promise of those words had her breasts tightening and warmth pooling low in her belly. She took another hasty sip of champagne, ignoring his quiet, smug chuckle.
“Anyway,” he continued. “I didn’t expect to enjoy today as much as I did, with all of our additional company. It was a bit surprising.”
“I’m glad you had fun,” she said.
He picked up the guitar and absently strummed a few chords, tuning the strings and plucking out a few notes. The firelight flickered over him, highlighting his chiseled features, the biceps that bunched as he played. His fingers moved across the strings and she shivered, too easily picturing those fingers moving over her skin. She had no doubt he’d play her just as well.
The few notes he’d been picking out solidified into a song, one of her favorite songs. He played very well. She found herself smiling as she swayed to the tune, her eyes closed. When he started quietly singing, her eyes flew open and she sucked in a small breath of surprise. His voice floated to her, deep and smooth. Her gaze met his and held, those dark eyes burning into hers while he sang.
Ach koritsi mou. Oh, my girl.
She breathed in one shaky breath after another as he sang about the unrevealed parts of his soul belonging to her. How he’d waited so long for her to come into his life, and every time he sang the words ach koritsi mou it was like he was laying claim to her, branding her as his.
His voice died away with the last note of the song. Still they sat staring into each other’s eyes. He put the guitar down and her breathing sped up as he leaned in. She watched him until their lips met, then she closed her eyes and gave herself over to him. She wrapped her arms around his neck, her fingers tangling in his hair. He hauled her closer, pressing her down into the sand. His lips left hers to trail down her neck and she arched against him, trying to bring him closer.
“Koritsi mou,” he murmured against her skin.
My girl. Oh yes, she was his. It might not last. It might not be real in the harsh light of day, but for that moment, on the sand beneath the soft moonlight, with the salty breeze of the sea flowing over them as he moved over her, kissing her until her body begged for more, she was his, totally and completely his.
He broke away, pulling back so he could look into her eyes. Whatever he saw there must have pleased him. He brushed her hair from her face, his smile somehow both tender and possessive. His hand stroked down her side, his thumb brushing across her breast. She trembled beneath him, wanting more, needing more. He leaned down to recapture her lips and her eyes fluttered closed again.
Someone cleared his throat and Constance gasped, her hand flying up to cover her face. The whole “I can’t see you, so you can’t see me” theory had never actually worked out, but it did help to close out the sight of Joseph’s uncomfortable face.