The Greek Millionaire's Marriage (6 page)

The languid stretch of her arms made his pulses drum loudly. And she left them raised above her head, open to him, boldly and unmistakably inviting his invasion.

‘You are incredibly beautiful,' he whispered, then dipped his head to kiss her scented breasts where they heaped generously above a lacy bra.

He closed his eyes, sensing the arching of her spine, the urgent thrust of her hips, and he responded with a
fierce onslaught of impassioned kisses that left him breathless. And more frantic than ever to take her.

Even if she had used him… Angrily he ripped off her briefs and shuddered when she sighed as though in relief and melted against him, her teeth savaging his shoulder, his throat, his jaw…

This was pure sex in its rawest state. And yet he could feel his heart aching for more than that as he let her snatch at his shirt and forcibly wrench it open, scattering buttons in all directions.

Her mouth was moving over his naked torso, driving him wild, the slick of her tongue and the nip of her sharp teeth jerking his body into a frenzy while her hair slid with more tantalising delicacy, reminding him of other times when he had imagined they were making love as a couple who adored one another.

Tormented and tortured with this betrayal, he caught a hank of golden hair and raised her head. Their eyes blazed, liquid jet meeting bewildered sapphire. Something broke in him. His heart, his control, any contact with reality.

Olivia knew this was madness but couldn't stop herself. All her solemn resolutions had been swept away the moment he had taken her into his arms. There was such a joy in her heart when he looked at her and touched her that she knew with an almost chilling certainty that she still loved him and always would. Like an animal craving water, she needed him to make her live again, to make her whole. Without him she was nothing.

Whimpering in a confusing muddle of dismay and delight, she began to drag off her bra with infuriatingly clumsy fingers, almost weeping when the hooks refused to be released. Dimitri reached around her back
and yanked it free. Her naked breasts touched his chest tentatively, their dark centres immediately hard and exquisitely painful. She let her body sway a little so that they brushed his quivering muscles, rejoicing in the sound of his quickened breathing.

They would make love. Their feelings for one another had been reignited. It would be like old times, she dreamed.

And all the while his fingers were slipping relentlessly between her thighs, slicking backwards and forwards in a ruthless rhythm that was becoming unbearable.

She touched him. His groan echoed hers when her hand closed around the hot smoothness and suddenly he was impatiently pushing her hands away and was thrusting inside her with an urgency that took her breath away.

It had never been like this before. Never so uncontrolled, so primitive or needy. Her arms locked around his neck and she buried her head in his shoulder, feeling the silken slide of him against each unfurling nerve within her, wondering at the ecstasy and despair that battled in her heart.

Their mouths clashed. Teeth and tongues fought together as all the years of longing and anger welled up within her. She cried out, called his name, heard him huskily whisper hers as his thrusts became faster and more vigorous, wiping away the past and focusing her on the here and now.

Gasping, she felt the rising ripples of an orgasm, enhanced by his skilful, wickedly arousing fingers. On the summit of it, she hovered and began to subside, only to be driven there again and again.

Dimly she was aware of the thick carpet beneath her
back. Then of them rolling, locked in a passionate embrace, unable to release one another till the silken pressure within her had swelled again and they had reached a shuddering climax together.

Slowly the madness faded and she felt calmness descend on her. Limp and glowing with delirious delight, she lay silent and still in Dimitri's arms, dreaming of their renewed love. She had never been so certain of anything in her life. He had been so frantic for her, muttering what had sounded like sweet Greek words of adoration.

With a long exhalation of breath he rolled away. Hearing him stand up, she smiled, stretched luxuriously with the satisfied conviction of someone who felt deeply adored. Lazily she opened her reluctant eyes.

She blinked. Instead of smiling down at her, he was heading for the door. There was something about his beautifully muscled back that told her he was controlling huge emotions. Ice froze her veins.

‘Dimitri?' she whispered. A sudden panic took hold of her.

He jerked to a halt as if she had caught him with the tip of a whip. ‘I didn't expect you to act the loving wife with such enthusiasm,' he muttered, his voice shaking and hoarse.

She felt as if he'd punched her in the stomach. But she fought her horror. He must never know how she felt.

‘I've always enjoyed a healthy attitude to sex,' she flung recklessly.

‘Perhaps that's why it's so enjoyable with you. No strings. Every man's dream. Have a shower. You know where to go.' And he slammed the door behind him with an unnerving finality.

S
HE
felt desperately cold, even though the rays of the sun were streaming in through the huge picture windows and shimmering on her nakedness. Shaking uncontrollably, she snatched up her clothes, flushing with embarrassment to find them so thoroughly scattered about the room.

As she moved, she felt unsteady on her feet. At first she thought this was the after-effect of Dimitri's lovemaking. And then she discovered that the boat was moving and there was no sight of land.

Her head cleared as if it had been doused in water. Seething, she realised that the music must have drowned the sound of the purring engines and she'd been too overwhelmed by the glorious sensation of being loved to notice the gentle movement of the boat over the glass-like sea.

Loved!
As if.

At the time, every instinct she possessed had assured her that he cared. But she had been wrong. It was just his technique. He'd taken what he'd wanted and then mocked her for her abandon.

A sharp pain of pure reality sliced into her chest. There would be no future for them. She had been fantasising. And she had misunderstood his eagerness. Of course he'd been seductive. Where women were concerned, he was driven by his loins. There had been no tenderness. Just sex. And she'd been conned. Bitterly
she wondered how she could ever feel good about herself again.

Refusing even to think about what had happened, she held her clothes strategically around her body to hide her nakedness, and headed off to the nearest shower. She stayed there a long time, letting the relentless power of the water sluice her heated skin.

Her mind was in such a turmoil that she didn't know what to think. And so she blanked everything out, concentrating only on soaping herself with a punishing vigour.

‘Olivia!'

She glared at Dimitri's abrupt call, thinking sourly that she wasn't ready for visitors. Hoping to drown out his knocking on the door, she turned the shower up to its most ferocious level.

‘Leave me some privacy!' she yelled.

Her eyes were full of angry tears. She didn't want him to see her like this, vulnerable and humiliated.

The door opened, causing her to hastily get a grip on herself. It annoyed her intensely that Dimitri had walked in on her as if he had a right. But then he had always done exactly what he wanted and to hell with everyone else. Well, this time, she vowed grimly, she'd do the same.

Adjusting the bath sheet that was wrapped around his slim hips, he lowered his head and looked at her from under heavy brows. Silver droplets of water slid from his tousled hair and with an impatient hand he pushed his fingers over his scalp, smoothing his hair back to its normal sleekness.

Magnificent in his half-nakedness, he stepped into the spacious bathroom, his tanned body glistening with the sheen of water.

He looked composed, though his eyes were a hard black, like a slab of jet. The set of his mouth, the lift of his chest and shoulders, suggested that he was still struggling to master some tempestuous emotions. Nervously she wondered what they were. Triumph at seducing her? Scorn, disgust…

It was on the tip of her tongue to ask. Only pride stopped her. Avoiding his unnerving eyes in case she betrayed her misery, Olivia shut off the shower and grabbed the nearest towel, binding it around her body tightly.

‘What's so urgent that can't wait till I'm dressed?' she snapped.

‘I want to say that nothing has changed. I hold you to your promise,' he stated, a dangerous light in his narrowed eyes. ‘With or without the sex.'

She gave a shrug of indifference as if the whole episode had been merely an indulgence on her part.

‘I wouldn't like to embarrass you with my enthusiasm,' she said tartly.

‘I'm not complaining. Enthuse as much as you like,' he growled.

‘No thanks. I don't think I want to repeat that,' she clipped.

‘It's of no importance,' he dismissed insultingly. ‘Your promise is, however. Well?'

Thinking of spending two hours—let alone two weeks—with him made a quiver ripple through her glowing body, electrifying all the parts he had touched with such devastating results.

Whatever she claimed to the contrary, she knew that if they carried out this extraordinary plan of his they wouldn't be able to keep their hands off one another. There would be nights of unbelievable pleasure. Then
would come the scouring emptiness that followed loveless sex.

Maybe she could live with that. She knew the score. He didn't love her.

To her eternal shame, she wanted him—with an all-consuming hunger that appalled her. Yet she didn't want the pain. Olivia bit her lip. The choice was stark: two weeks with him, or years spent fighting to be free of the chains that bound her to him like a prisoner to a stake.

And she had made a promise. She studied him. Arrogant, hard-jawed, implacable. A flare of anger surged through her. That was how he cut a swathe through the business world—and women.

Maybe he'd feel different if he was on the receiving end of such callous behaviour. Her eyes narrowed and she closed her heart to him. There was nothing wrong in enjoying sex with one's husband.

She would take what he had to offer—if she felt like it—and would bid him a cool farewell when her divorce came through. That would astonish him. His ego would be dented if she waved a cheerful goodbye. She smiled to herself.

Two weeks. She could do it because she needed him and hated him with equal passion. He was totally incapable of being faithful and she could never truly love a man who didn't put her at the centre of his universe. Whatever she felt for him, it wasn't love. Obsession, perhaps. Infatuation. But nothing deep and spiritual.

This was something she had to do, like an ordeal by fire. To sate herself with him until she was sick of him. Absence hadn't helped. Maybe this would.

Aware of his tension, she smiled and said casually, ‘All right. I won't go back on my word.'

‘So…we will be together.'

The vibrations of his deep tones raised goosebumps on her skin. ‘Of course. We agreed to put up with the temporary discomfort as a means to an end, didn't we?' she said with a lift of her slender shoulders.

There was a long pause and he held her gaze while his eyes liquefied. He took a step towards her and she felt her heart slamming into her ribcage.

At that moment, the boat unexpectedly lurched forward and then back again. Losing her balance, she fell into Dimitri's arms. Although she tried to pull away, he held her tightly and after a moment she felt her flesh weaken and begin to flow into his. Quiescent, she looked up at him guardedly, allowing her body to respond—yet not her emotions.

‘Yooo-hooh!' shrilled someone on deck.
‘Ti yinete?'

Dimitri froze. Olivia was wide-eyed at the sound of clattering feet. ‘We've docked,' he explained hurriedly.

‘But who—?' The words dried in her throat.

‘Pedhi mou—'

Olivia recognised the voice at once. Purring the Greek equivalent of ‘my boy', Dimitri's mother, flush-faced and excited, had come to the open doorway of the bathroom. Olivia swung around and Marina's elation turned to horror when she saw Dimitri apparently embracing his estranged, towel-clad wife.

‘You!'
Marina croaked.

Olivia blushed, her bare toes curling with embarrassment in the thick carpet. ‘Yes. Me.' Her eyes narrowed, seeing the disappointment on Marina's face. ‘You thought I was someone else. Who were you expecting to find?' she challenged.

It dawned on her that Marina's tone had initially been indulgent, almost frisky. She hadn't been sur
prised or horrified to see her son snuggling up to a semi-nude blonde. Perhaps, she thought darkly, Dimitri and Eleni's relationship had gone further than he'd said.

‘Eleni! I—I thought it must be her!' Marina stammered, confirming Olivia's suspicions.

She tightened her mouth. Maybe Dimitri had already made Eleni his mistress, but drew the line at marriage with the girl. Rat!

‘She has gone to meet her father,' Dimitri explained. ‘Good afternoon, Mother. I'm sorry if we have embarrassed you. We weren't expecting anyone to drop in unannounced,' he added drily.

It was a mild rebuke, though affectionately spoken, and his mother's bean-thin body stiffened. Olivia felt sorry for her, though she remembered how her mother-in-law had frequently interrupted them, deliberately destroying their romantic picnics and quiet walks, intruding on their much-needed privacy.

‘What's happening?' Marina quavered. ‘Why is she here—?'

‘I will tell you in private,' Dimitri said gently. ‘It concerns the divorce. I'll meet you back at the house and we'll go into the details later. Olivia, I suggest you get dressed. You know where the bedrooms are.'

With that, he turned her around and gave her a light and playful husbandly slap on her rear.

Olivia whirled, intending to give him a piece of her mind in return, but he put a finger on her lips and sent her warning messages with his eyes.

‘Remember your promise,' he whispered into her burning ear. ‘And let me judge when it's best to tell Mother. She'll get the message soon enough.'

She glared at him suspiciously, wondering if he'd
stage-managed this moment. It was mighty convenient that his mother had walked in on them before they'd had the chance to get their clothes back on.

Their gazes clashed. His was amused and simmering with mischief; hers ignited immediately at the thought of turning the tables on him. A tingle spread through her body, setting it alight with excitement. She'd never felt so fired up.

Right, she thought, enjoying the challenge ahead. You want an adoring wife, then hang on to your hat. Because you'll get one with knobs on.

Languorously she wound her arms about his neck and kissed him on the mouth. She had one weapon. Her body. And she'd use it to good effect.

‘Anything you say…
darling
,' she murmured, delighted when he shuddered and his eyes glazed over.

‘Dimitri!' gasped Marina in alarm.

‘Don't worry, Mother. She's a minx. I can handle her,' he murmured.

Flinging him a wonderfully warm and loving smile, she faced the woman who had helped to ruin her marriage. Marina seemed to be panic-stricken. Olivia's expression saddened. She pitied the woman. Marina would go through hell during the next two weeks or so.

‘Please excuse me while I dry my hair and make myself presentable,' she said pleasantly. Her mouth quirked. ‘See you in a moment, darling.'

Apparently cool and controlled, she patted Dimitri's bottom, gathered up her clothes and strolled past her bristling mother-in-law.

Dimitri watched Olivia's swaying body. Luscious. With the most clutchable rear he'd ever seen. A flawless back, her skin a glowing gold.

His entire body throbbed with memories of their lovemaking. She had quenched his passion in the most spectacular fashion. Dangerously, she'd come close to touching his emotions, but he'd remembered in time that she had used him—and was still using him to ease her own insatiable appetite.

‘She's trying to win you back!' his mother declared anxiously.

He smiled at her in reassurance. Olivia had played the vamp for his mother's benefit with alarming sincerity. A woman who could lie so convincingly could never be trusted.

‘I must dress,' he said with unusual gentleness. He went to her and held her stiff, bony body in a loving embrace. Then he kissed her cheek and pretended not to notice the tears which had sprung into her eyes. ‘There's nothing to worry about, I promise. All will be well in the end. I have a scheme.' He saw his mother's face brighten. ‘I'll see you at the house, as I said. We'll talk.'

‘There's no time! I'm so busy! I planned a surprise party for you. It's all arranged for tonight,' she said in an unrecognisably small voice. ‘To celebrate your coming divorce. You will be there, won't you?'

Dismayed, he knew he couldn't shame her by making her cancel it. ‘Of course.' Tenderly he patted her hand. ‘Thank you.'

Even in her expensive white designer dress and coiffed and tended by countless beauticians, his mother looked unsure of herself. It was as if she'd never been comfortable with wealth and might have been happier remaining a poor shepherd's wife.

He felt a strong sense of sympathy for her. His father had embraced the new life, working to build the busi
ness into the billion-dollar property empire it was now, with Angelaki developments springing up all over the world. But his mother had suffered from intense insecurity, terrified of doing and saying the wrong thing, unnerved by the social occasions she was expected to co-host. Gradually she had hidden behind a cold hauteur to disguise her lack of confidence and rarely let down her guard.

He wanted to find the laughing, tender mother he remembered from his childhood. The woman who had baked fat little bread men for him, who had run into the garden barefoot with him to watch sunsets. She was there—and he would find her.

He took her hand and kissed it with great tenderness. ‘See you in a moment,' he said fondly and slipped into the stateroom to dress.

When Olivia emerged into the brilliant afternoon sun some twenty minutes later, she saw what she had surmised—that they had docked in the small fishing port of Olympos. Dimitri was leaning on the rail, lazily observing the sleepy little village whose cube-shaped houses clambered haphazardly up an olive-clad hill behind the harbour.

‘Has your mother gone?' Olivia asked when she came to his side.

‘Back to the house.'

‘What did you tell her?'

‘That you would be staying with us to keep our arguments as private as possible.'

‘How did she take that?'

‘Badly. I think she's afraid I'll find you irresistible,' he drawled.

She tilted her head insolently and put her lashes to good use. ‘Maybe you will.'