“Do you always talk this much?” he asked, his gaze now on her lips.
“Always.”
“Good.” He kissed her, pushing her against the wall once more, his tongue moving with slow, sensual strokes over hers.
He felt as if he was caught in the middle of her storm, life turned upside down, everything that he knew and felt and believed completely overturned by this irritating, unreasonable, desirable woman. She tasted of the sea, of lost hopes and dreams, of woman. She was sweet and salty and so hot that he felt the prickle of sweat as it formed on his brow. He wanted her with a need that he hadn’t felt since . . . well, since ever. No woman had ever threatened to overset his mind the way she had. There was no rhyme or reason to his immediate and consuming passion for her—it was like the tempest she represented, sweeping over him with a madness that he never wanted to end.
“Jake, I’m going home. I’ll send Spyros back with the launch—”
Reluctantly, Iakovos released Harry’s tongue, pulling back from her, allowing her legs to slide to the floor, but keeping a hold on her hips as she staggered into him. Her eyes were glazed, her expression one of stupefaction, her lips as red as ripe cherries, and he felt immense male pride in the fact that a kiss could so affect her. At least he wasn’t alone in his sense of being overwhelmed.
He turned his head to look at his brother. Theo’s expression of shock melted to a slow grin. “Or maybe you’ll be wanting to come back sooner rather than later?”
“We’ll be returning to the island now, yes,” he said, eyeing Harry with some concern. She blinked several times, still clutching his arms as if she was stunned. “I’m good, but not that good, sweetheart,” he told her softly.
She blinked those impossibly thick black lashes at him a few more times, then suddenly straightened up, releasing the death hold she had on his arms. “I don’t know—that was pretty spectacular. But I can’t go with you.”
Her gaze skittered over to Theo. She straightened even more, squaring her shoulders. “What are you smirking at? Haven’t you ever seen someone kiss your brother?”
“Lots of women,” he answered, his grin widening. “I’ve changed my mind,” he told Iakovos in Greek. “She’s not a she-devil. She’s a witch.”
He rolled his eyes and put his hand on Harry’s back, gently shoving her toward the elevator. “It is late. We will return now.”
“Look, Yacky, I just told you—”
“Yacky?”
Iakovos gritted his teeth at the snicker that followed the word.
“I just told you that I wasn’t going to leave until Cyndi is settled in a room.”
“She’s in a room. Her female companion is with her. I sent the other two over on the first launch.”
Harry stopped arguing and looked at him with those big eyes that were now a dark, mysterious gray-brown. “She is? But the dude in Admitting said it would be a few hours.”
“Wealth and fame have their use sometimes,” he told her, pushing her onto the elevator.
“Wealth, yeah, but fame? Eh. Not really. Let me just check and make sure she’s OK.”
Iakovos waited until she had satisfied herself that her charge was being well taken care of before asking, “What do you know of fame?” He was very much aware of her standing next to him in the confined space of the elevator as they left the hospital. “You said you were not the band’s regular manager.”
“I’m not.” She slid him an odd glance, a little smile curling the edges of her lips. He wanted to strip her right there and take her on the floor of the elevator. “Do you guys get new U.S. movies out here?”
“Yes.”
“Did you see the one that came out a couple of months ago?” She named the title of a popular movie that he had particularly enjoyed.
“I took Elena to it, as a matter of fact.”
“Ah. Well, that was based on one of my books.”
Both Theo and he stared at her in surprise. She smiled. “I told you I was a writer. I write thrillers under the name of M. J. Reynolds. That was the first one made into a movie, although they totally changed the story from the book. Still, it was fun to see it.”
Iakovos made a mental note to remove the latest M. J. Reynolds book that sat on his nightstand before he got Harry into his bed. That she would find herself there was not a point open to debate—he wanted her with a need that rocked him, and she obviously was in a similar state. Before the night was over, he would tame the tempest, or die trying.
CHAPTER 3
Harry made no objection when, upon reaching Iakovos’ island, he guided her into the house rather than escorting her to the staff quarters. Theo said nothing, as well, just disappeared into the back of the house, where strains of music could be heard. Elena’s friends, Iakovos knew from experience, would be happy dancing until the sun rose. Without a word, he took Harry’s hand, leading her up a flight of stairs and turning to the north, to the family wing. He was painfully aware of her scent, her nearness, the heat of her, and was far too busy planning all of the things he was going to do to her when he finally got her naked and into his bed to expend any energy on actual speech.
Luckily, she didn’t seem to need conversation. She just gave him a long look when he opened the door to his personal rooms and gestured for her to go in. She studied the room, then him, her attention seeming to be divided between his lower neck and his mouth. After a moment’s consideration, she gave a little nod as if she’d come to a decision, and entered his sitting room. He led her through it, through the dressing room, past his lavish bathroom, to his bedroom. The doors were cast open, so he could watch the waves crash onto the rocks below, on the north side of the island, the wildness of the water always stirring an answer from something deep inside him.
“Are you using some form of birth control?” he asked politely, fighting with the need to simply shred the clothes off her and pounce.
“Pills, yes.”
He reached for her, then paused, a horrible thought occurring to him. “There is a man in your life?”
She shook her head, staring at his upper lip. With one finger she touched the indentation between the lip and his nose. “So sexy,” she murmured.
“Then why are you taking birth control pills?” he demanded, his skin prickling at the thought of any other man attempting to capture his tempest.
“Convenience, mostly. I only get a couple of periods a year that way.”
“There is no man you are seeing? No man who you desire?”
“Oh, yes, there’s a man I desire,” she said. “Can we get on with it? Because I feel like I’m going to explode or something if you don’t touch me soon.”
“Who is this man?” The words came out in a snarl. “What is his name?”
A little smile turned her mouth up. “Yannykos Papa-momo . . . er . . . nope. Sorry. Still not able to say it.”
Him. She wanted him. She desired him. Of course she did; she’d literally thrown herself on him at the hospital. “Remove your clothing,” was all he said.
Her eyebrows lifted before she smiled a long, slow smile that he seemed to feel in his gut. “You like a striptease, do you? OK. I don’t know how good I am at it, but I can try.”
He removed his shirt and shoes, but left his trousers on as she slowly unbuttoned the line of buttons down her tunic. He was aroused, his erection heavy and hot, taking on a level of hardness he didn’t recall ever achieving before. Even though she had flung herself on him, he didn’t want to startle her with the sight of just how much she had affected him.
She paused, her attention fixed on his groin. “Holy Mary, mother of god. You, sir, are packing wood. That looks like it hurts. You’d better let that loose before you do some sort of permanent damage to yourself.”
So much for not startling her. He debated demanding that she unzip his trousers, but decided there was no way he’d be able to survive her hands anywhere near his groin, so he shucked his pants and underwear with quick efficiency.
Her eye
brows rose at the sight of him, but she said nothing, her gaze moving from his genitals to his neck to his mouth.
“Do you need help with those buttons?” he asked after another few minutes had passed and she was still working down the long line of them.
“Yeah, why don’t you start at the bottom and work up, and we’ll meet in the middle.”
He smiled a smile filled with manly intentions, and reached for her. “As you like.”
“You know, ripping the buttons off wasn’t quite what I had in mind when—oh, hello!”
He tore off the tunic, his hands instantly on her breasts. Unable to keep from diving into the plump little offerings presented just for him, he buried his face in them, breathing deeply of her scent, his fingers stroking the sensitive peaks until she clutched his bare shoulders, her eyes wide.
He lifted his head, his hands busy on her linen trousers. “This is going to be close, sweetheart.”
“You’re telling me,” she said, shivering as she stroked a hand down his chest. “I’m sorry, can you stop what you’re doing?”
He pushed her pants to her feet, frowning as he looked down at her. “What?”
“Thanks.”
She leaned forward and licked at the base of his throat, moaning as she rubbed herself against him. His eyes crossed as his erection pressed into the soft silk of her belly.
“Finished?” he asked in a strangled voice when she gave his collarbone a little kiss.
“For now. There’s still that spot above your lip, but I’ll save that for dessert. You can have a turn if you like.”
“Thank you,” he said gravely, and without further ado, he yanked off her underwear, releasing her breasts from the warm satin confines of her bra.
“I like a man who gets right down to business,” she said, squirming as he pulled her against his body, dipping his head to claim that delectable mouth once again.
The way she moved against him set off all sorts of warning bells in his mind. If she wiggled just once more to the left, it would all be over for him.
“You taste of the sea, my little tempest,” he murmured into her neck as he lifted her, carrying her to his bed and then following her down onto it.
“Salty, you mean? It’s the heat, probably. I’m not used to it.”
“Wild,” he corrected. “You taste untamed. Endlessly changing.”
“Oooh, pretty,” she said on a long breath, her body lying with languid grace.
He nibbled on her breasts, drinking in her soft little sounds of pleasure as he licked first one nipple, then the other before moving lower.
He kissed her belly, the scent of her driving that strange, primitive need within him to possess her. He had to have her now, or burst. He moved her thighs open for him, settling himself at the entrance to her paradise, his arms braced next to her, dipping his head to take her mouth as he prepared to slide into her warmth.
She gave a long, slow sigh, her eyes drifting shut with pleasure as he kissed a path to her breasts, gritting his teeth against the need to bury himself within her. He would do this slowly, giving her the time needed to rouse her passion. He kissed his way around to her ear, nibbling on the line of her neck, his penis so hot and heavy that he honestly thought it might kill him. “It is good, is it not, sweetheart?”
She made no answer. He bit her earlobe gently, then realized something was wrong. He rose up enough to look down at her. She was flushed with passion, her eyes closed, her mouth rosy and well kissed . . . and slightly open. The tiniest of snores emerged from between those delicious lips.
She’d fallen asleep? While they were making love? It was true they weren’t actually engaged in intercourse, but this certainly counted as foreplay. Iakovos stared down at her in complete disbelief. He’d never, ever had a woman fall asleep while he was foreplaying. Perhaps not all of them were as wild with arousal as they said they were, but he had always done his best to be a thoughtful lover, taking pleasure in making sure his companion received her full share of attention before he succumbed to his own climax.
And now this tempest, this storm of a woman who consumed his mind and body so effortlessly, had the audacity to fall asleep while he was attempting to bring her pleasure.
He gently nipped her shoulder to see if she had just drifted off. Perhaps he had been too considerate by taking it slow? Perhaps there was too much foreplay? Her nose wrinkled. He nipped again.
She snored.
What was the etiquette of a lover who fell asleep in such a situation, he wondered, loath to leave her lying there so warm and enticing, but not wishing to continue if she wasn’t going to participate.
“Eglantine,” he said in a tone of voice that was perhaps tinged with just a shade of desperation.
She scowled in her sleep.
“Harry.”
“Mrrf?” Her eyes opened. “Hmm?”
“You fell asleep.”
“I did?” She blinked a few times, then glanced down to where his chest was resting on her belly. “Oh! I’m sorry! It’s no reflection on you, Iakovos, honest. I guess the jet lag caught up to me. Do you want to proceed?”
“Only if you can spare me the time,” he said, waspishly, he knew, but he felt that he was due a little waspishness given the situation.
“I’m all yours,” she said, stroking her hands down his back to his ass cheeks as he moved up to possess himself of her mouth again.
He groaned into her mouth at her heat, watching the passion make her eyes go soft. Her lips were sweet, like fresh berries tipped in seawater, and her neck and shoulders beckoned to his mouth. He bit gently on her ear, licking the path to her jaw, murmuring words of pleasure as he did so.
She was asleep again.
Iakovos looked down at her face, the storm serene now as she lay sleeping, a little smile curling her mouth, the thick lashes resting against the honey-sweet skin of her cheeks.
He rolled onto his back with a sigh, and cast a regretful look at his erection. “We’re on our own tonight, it would appear.”
Harry murmured something unintelligible, rolling over to drape herself halfway across his chest, her leg wrapping itself around one of his. She gave a contented sigh, pressed a kiss to his cheek, and snuggled into him, snoring gently into his neck.
Oh, he’d tamed his tempest all right. He’d tamed her right into insensibility.
The sunlight woke Harry, simply because she wasn’t used to seeing it in her western-facing bedroom. She opened her eyes, looking with sleepy confusion at the sight that greeted her. Wide doors were opened to catch the breeze off the sea, through which she could see the blue-jade water of the Aegean as it surged against the rocks. A long, low bureau sat next to the doors. Muted pictures hung in tasteful clusters on the wall. She was in a room, a masculine room, a room that could probably hold her entire apartment and still have extra space. . . . Suddenly she remembered where she was.
She rolled over to find Iakovos lying on his side, his head propped up on one hand, watching her with unreadable black eyes. In the light of the morning sun, however, she could see that they weren’t really black; they were a dark brown, streaked with black and shiny gold flecks.
“Awkward,” she said after a moment of silence.
“You think so?” he asked, his voice sliding along her skin like silk.
“You don’t?”
“Not particularly, no.”
“Yes, well, you’ve probably woken up to legions of women, but I’m not a famous world’s most eligible Greek playboy. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do. You’ll have to let me know what’s normally done in this situation. Should I act all casual, like I wake up to a new lover every day? Should I blush and avert my eyes shyly from your naked form? Should I pounce on you? What’s standard in this situation?”
A little frown creased the area between his brows. “You weren’t a virgin. You must have woken up to a lover before.”
“A lover, yes. But not tons of them like you have.”
“Who says I ha
ve had tons of lovers?”
“Magazines. Newspapers. Internet celebrity sites, no doubt,” she said, ticking them off on her fingers.
“They exaggerate.”
“Uh-huh. Just out of idle curiosity, how many women have you woken up to?”
He looked like he wasn’t going to answer for a few seconds, then frowned in concentration. “I haven’t ever counted them.”
“That many, huh?”
“No, I just don’t feel the need to count them. Once a relationship is past, it’s past. I do not concern myself with it anymore.”
“Not the sort of thing someone who wakes up for the first time in your bed wants to hear,” she said, pushing him over onto his back as she straddled his hips. Immediately his hands went to her breasts. “I have a horrible feeling that you had to wake me up at some point last night. Did I really fall asleep on you?”
“Twice,” he said, his fingers teasing her breasts.
“Have I wounded your manly pride?” she asked, arching her back as he set her afire with just the touch of his hands.
“Extremely.”
She put her hands over his, stopping him for a moment as she leaned down to kiss him. “I really am sorry, Iakovos. The jet lag must have nailed me. Did you at least . . . finish?”
“No.”
She winced. “Sorry,” she repeated.
“It’s not something I care to experience again, but you are welcome to make amends, if you desire,” he said, his eyes lighting with a darkly sensual glint that warmed her to the tips of her toenails.
She squirmed against him. “Oh, I think I owe you at least that much. Do you like to be on the top or the bottom?”
“What?” He looked like he couldn’t believe what she was asking.
“Do you want me to ride you like a rented mule, or do you prefer to be Mr. Missionary Position? I’m fine with either, so it doesn’t matter to me.” She stroked her hands down his chest, greatly enjoying the soft hairs that tickled her fingertips. His chest hair narrowed below his belly button, leading in a glossy trail down to his penis.