His Mistress for a Million Read online

Time became irrelevant in the minutes following. Colours blurred and merged with her feelings into a sensual overload. And nothing mattered but the sensations Andreas conjured up inside her as he worked his brand of slow magic upon her body.

  No part of her escaped his attention. Nowhere was ignored by his clever fingers or his heated mouth or the hot flick of his tongue.

  Until she was burning with a need that she’d never known.

  Burning for completion.

  ‘Did he do this to you?’ Andreas asked as he parted her thighs and dipped his head lower. And she tossed her head from side to side, the sensations inside her robbing her of the power of speech.

  ‘Did he make you feel this way?’ He wanted to know as he pressed his hot mouth to her very core, almost tipping her over the edge.

  ‘Did he make you call his name?’ he demanded.

  Her cry was torn from her, his name on her tongue as he sent her once again over the edge. ‘Did he?’ he demanded, raining hot kisses on her eyes and on her mouth. Hot kisses that tasted of him and of her.

  ‘No’ she breathed when finally she could talk once more, her head still spinning, her body humming. ‘No.’

  ‘Then he was not a man. He gave you nothing and so what he took from you was nothing.’

  She shuddered under him, though whether from the intensity of his message or from the obsidian gaze meeting hers, she couldn’t tell. Nor could she think as she felt the nudge of him against her.

  She gasped and felt a moment of panic but his eyes stayed her.

  ‘You are ready,’ he told her. ‘Trust me.’

  Strangely she did. And this time there was no stab of pain, no discomfort. This time she felt her muscles slowly stretching as he eased his way inside, until he filled her completely, all the time his dark eyes not leaving hers.

  He kissed her then, a slow, deep kiss that spoke of possession as he started to move inside her. She gasped into his mouth as he slowly withdrew. She gasped again when he returned, awakening nerve endings she’d never known she possessed, inviting their participation in this sensual dance.

  Every part of her felt alive. Every part of her awake to his slow seduction, welcoming him as he increased the pace and the rhythm. And still his eyes didn’t leave her face.

  She clung to him, inside and out, feeling it building again, that relentless ever-increasing tension as he took her higher and still higher with each deep thrust until there was nowhere left to climb, nowhere left to go.

  And then her world exploded, shattering into tiny fragments as he pushed her over the edge. And this time she wasn’t alone. This time he came with her.

  Clearly the man had been a fool. Andreas lay there listening to the sound of her deep even breathing as the moonlight spilled through the long window and over her creamy skin, giving it a pearl-like sheen. He’d always made a point of not bedding virgins. He didn’t want to build false hopes. He didn’t want attachments based on first times. He didn’t want attachments full stop.

  So whoever had clumsily relieved Cleo of her virginity had handed him a gift. She was unbelievably responsive, her delight in an unfamiliar act refreshing and light years away from that of the women he normally associated with, who tended to go mechanically through the motions with a brisk, businesslike efficiency. Not that there was anything wrong with that; it was no different from the way he himself operated. But now that he had been handed this prize, it would be refreshing to spend a few weeks having sex with someone who wasn’t quite so practised, someone for whom the art of love-making would be more of a novelty.

  Far from being the disaster he’d been contemplating earlier tonight, his four-week plan had been inspired, now that she’d clearly dispensed with that no-sex clause. A few weeks with Cleo in his bed would suit him perfectly and then she’d depart back to wherever she’d come from and meanwhile Petra would have well and truly got the message.

  He sighed, congratulating himself as he relaxed back into the bed, the scent of a woman’s hair on his pillow, the scent of their love-making in his bed.

  A few easy-to-take weeks with Cleo, and life would be back to normal.

  Chapter Ten

  ANDREAS started work early the next day, hoping to work out a way of getting Constantine back on side, but he wasn’t returning calls and with growing frustration Andreas picked up a file from his desk, flipped it open and found documents he’d been waiting on since before his trip to London. Good. He glanced over them once and frowned when he couldn’t remember a thing he’d just read. Took a second look and still nothing stuck. He closed the file, pushing it away as he leaned back in his chair, spinning it around to face the view of the caldera from his office.

  What was Cleo doing today? He’d left her snug in bed, the scent of their recent love-making perfuming the air. Had she decided on a late breakfast and a swim? Or had she decided to explore the streets of Fira on her own after he’d curtailed her exploration yesterday? She didn’t speak Greek. Santorini’s tourist venues catered for tourists of course, but still…

  ‘Where are you going?’

  ‘I’ll be back,’ he told Petra as he strode past. ‘Later.’

  An hour later he was back, his mood foul because he’d missed her, still no call back from Con and still the damned papers made no sense. He opened another file. Signed some papers awaiting his signature, relegated some more marked for his attention to the out-tray, read and reread another batch of files before he decided his heart wasn’t in it and he pushed his chair back with a rush.

  Where was she? He’d told the staff to let him know the moment she returned, and he’d heard nothing. Surely they couldn’t have forgotten his instructions.

  Maybe they had. By four o’clock he’d had enough of waiting and guessing. How much time did one woman need for shopping? Fira wasn’t that big a town.

  He found her in the suite preparing to take a shower, already in her robe, and he knew he’d been right to suspect she was up to something because not one shopping bag littered the room. ‘Where the hell have you been?’

  She turned, startled, her cheeks reddening. ‘You told me I could go out.’

  And he had. He exhaled, trying to rid himself of hours of frustration in one single breath. ‘You were gone a long time. You clearly weren’t shopping. What were you doing?’

  Her face brightened again, warily at first, gaining enthusiasm as she spoke. ‘Fira is amazing! The paths and the houses and even the gates. Did you realise how wonderful the doorways are here? They beckon you with a glimpse of paradise, a snatch of view, like some wicked temptation, and opening to stairs you don’t even know are there and that lead to terraces hidden below. It’s incredible. I’ve never seen anything like it.’

  She was like a powerhouse, so lit up with the joy of her discoveries that her joy fed into him. He should be used to the everyday sights that surrounded him but she made them all fresh and new and now he wished he’d been there to see it through her eyes and feel the joy of her discovery with her.

  ‘And there are donkeys with ribbons and beaded headbands that carry people all the way up and down to the port…’ For a moment her blue eyes misted and lost a little of their joy. She shook her head. ‘I walked. I felt a bit sorry for them. But then,’ she said breathlessly, her eyes lighting up again as if she’d discovered the meaning of life itself, ‘then I found the Archaeological Museum.’

  ‘You what?’ He smothered a snort of disbelief, but it was only just. Nobody he’d ever brought to Santorini had bothered to look it up. Not one of his former women had ever been interested, preferring to shop for the gold jewellery the island was renowned for or designer trinkets to take home. ‘Why did you go there?’

  ‘I was curious about Santorini, and it was amazing! I couldn’t believe the history of this place. There was an entire city buried under ash. A whole city buried, just like Pompeii, but thousands of years earlier and they’d found pots and urns and the most incredible artworks.’ She held out her hands and sighed, her blue eyes
bright with discovery, her cheeks alive with colour and all he knew was that he wanted that enthusiasm and joy wrapped around him. He wanted her. Now.

  He saw the change in her eyes as she realised, saw the movement in her chest as she hauled down air and felt the air crackle between them as if it were alive. ‘Andreas?’ And then she was in his arms as they tumbled together onto the bed.

  Last night’s tenderness was history. They came together in a heated rush, Cleo grappling with his shirt buttons and his belt while he plundered her mouth with his kisses and drove her to the edge with the hot sweep of his hands before plunging into her depths. It was brutal and savage and fast but they both wanted it that way, needed it to be that way, the all-consuming fire of their need driving them on. Her cries melded with his as he drove into her one final time, sending them both spinning and weightless and once more into the crater.

  Panting and slick with sweat, he cursed himself for his lack of control. That was no way to take a woman with so little experience. ‘Are you all right?’

  She blinked her blue eyes up at him, eyes that were still dizzy and lacking focus. ‘Wow.’

  ‘Was I too fast? Did I hurt you?’

  ‘Oh, no. Just, wow.’

  Strangely, in a place he didn’t even know he had, he felt a surge of pride. Still inside her, not caring that he was still half dressed because he didn’t want to be apart, he cradled her face in his hands and kissed her softly. ‘What was that for?’ she breathed.

  ‘Just because.’ He traced a hand down her throat and up the incline to one perfect breast. ‘Did you see the women, how they were portrayed in the wall paintings?’ She gasped as his fingers circled her nipples, her flesh firming, responding to his touch. He growled in appreciation. So responsive and yet she’d just come. And in turn, so was he. He felt the change in direction in his blood. Felt the heat return. ‘Did you see how they were dressed?’

  She blushed the delightful way she did. ‘Did the women really go bare-breasted? I wasn’t sure.’

  He arched over her and flicked her nipple with his tongue. ‘They did. The Minoans celebrated life and nature and all things beautiful. And these…’ he dipped his head to her other breast ‘…are beautiful. You would have been a goddess in those times,’ he said, feeling himself swell once again, feeling the need to take her once more. ‘A fair-headed goddess from across the seas.’

  This time the rhythm was slower, more languid and controlled and he watched the storm once more build inside her, her arms woven around his neck, her legs anchored at his back. He watched her face as she neared the summit, he watched her azure eyes widen as the waves of pleasure lifted her higher and ever higher and then he watched her features freeze into that mask of ecstasy as her muscles clamped down around him and took him with her.

  It seemed like for ever until he could breathe normally again. Slowly, gently, he withdrew and found reason to curse himself all over again.

  Vlaka! Like some hot-under-the-collar schoolboy he’d forgotten to use protection. What the hell had he been thinking? But he hadn’t been thinking, not beyond being inside her and sharing that glorious enthusiasm that had streamed out of her like sunshine.

  ‘Cleo, are you safe?’

  The words made no sense in the context of their love-making. She was safe. She felt safe being with Andreas. Until a cold wave of realisation washed over her. They hadn’t used protection!

  ‘Oh. I…’ When was her last period? Was it three weeks, or only two? ‘I don’t know. I can work it out, though.’

  ‘So work it out,’ he said gruffly as he tore off what was left of his clothes and headed for the shower.

  She curled up behind him on the bed. ‘You make out like it’s my fault.’

  He took a deep breath. In a way it was. He’d never lost control like that before. Never been so obsessed with being inside a woman that he’d forgotten something as basic—as necessary—as protection. Who else’s fault was it?

  His.

  He looked over his shoulder to where she now sat, huddled on the bed, her robe drawn back tightly around her like a shield. ‘You’re right.’ He forced the words through his teeth. ‘I’m sorry. But sorry isn’t much good if you become pregnant.’

  Pregnant? Oh, God. She’d been so blown away by Andreas’ love-making that she hadn’t stopped to think of the consequences. Pregnant. No wonder he was so angry. It couldn’t happen, could it? Surely life wouldn’t be that unfair when she was going home in just a few weeks.

  Although knowing her luck…

  She swallowed. She’d be going home pregnant and unmarried. A loser. Again.

  Or would she?

  The bright side, she thought, knowing she was probably being irresponsible to even think this way. The bright side was she’d be going home with Andreas’ baby. Would it matter that she was pregnant if she had something of Andreas to keep for ever? Was it wrong to think that way? At least the money she was going home with would ensure that their baby would want for nothing.

  And the chances were, nothing would happen, and she would go home alone.

  She jacked up her chin. ‘We’ll deal with that if it happens. But I don’t have stars in my eyes, Andreas. I know I have a use-by date. I’m not looking for more.’

  He nodded and told her she was welcome to join him before stepping into the bathroom. He didn’t expect she would now, he thought as he turned on the powerful jet of spray and adjusted the temperature, the familiar smell of salt from the mineral-rich water thick in the steamy atmosphere. Which was a shame. He would enjoy her body slick with soap and water.

  Another time.

  He could see he’d hurt her and that bothered him. Not that he’d hurt her, but that he even cared. Especially when her words should have given him comfort. She didn’t want any more from him. That was good, wasn’t it?

  He lifted his face up into the stream of water and soaped his body. He’d make it up to her. Petra could hold the fort for a few days. He’d show Cleo his Santorini, the world that he loved, seeing as she was interested in more than just the usual souvenir shops.

  After all, if they only had a month, they might as well enjoy it.

  The next few days passed in a blur for Cleo. Andreas surprised her by wanting to tour the island with her and he was a consummate tour guide. He took her to the town of Oia at the very tip of the island and let her explore the narrow laneways and discover the blue-domed churches and the elegant remnants of Venetian occupation and the windmills that clung to the sides of the cliff.

  And then he delighted her by taking her to the mountain of Mesa Vouno where hand in hand they climbed the path to the ruins of Ancient Thera, the remnants of an ancient Greek and later Roman city. With the wind whipping in her hair she discovered more of that fascination for the ancient that she’d found while touring the museum. People had lived here, thousands of years ago. They had left their mark on the earth in the walls and the columns still standing and in the engravings on the rocks, of eagles and dolphins and strong-featured men.

  Andreas could be one of them, she thought, chiselled and strong-jawed and handsome beyond belief. He caught her watching him, the wind in his hair so that it looked alive. ‘What are you thinking?’

  And she smiled and celebrated a brand-new discovery: that a girl with no education and no career wasn’t necessarily doomed to clean rooms all her life, that she’d found something she could be passionate about. ‘I’m going to go home,’ she announced, on the top of a mountain overlooking the entire island, ‘and study. I’m going to find a course where I can learn about the people who lived here and left these marks on the rocks. I want to know more.’ And she spun around laughing.

  And he laughed too, because her mood was infectious, even though he suspected she’d go home and the memories would fade and she’d forget all about a bunch of old rocks on the top of a mountain somewhere halfway across the world.

  They stopped for lunch at a kafenio in a nearby village on the way back and enjoyed simple fare
of the freshest vegetables and seafood cooked superbly and that tasted better than anything she’d ever eaten before, and they walked it off again along a black sandy beach.

  And wherever they went, it was to a backdrop of azure seas and sky, black volcanic rock and whitewashed buildings that all melded with incredible beauty.

  ‘You are so lucky,’ she sighed later that night as together they watched another fiery sun sink into the ocean, the sky a painter’s dream of scorching red and gold. They hadn’t missed a sunset since that aborted ball and she knew that she would never get sick of the sight.

  She turned to see if he’d heard and caught him watching her, the intensity of his eyes sending vibrations down her spine that converged on her heart and made it lurch. ‘The sunset. You’re not watching.’

  And he smiled. ‘I’m watching it reflected in your expression. I never knew how beautiful our sunset was until this moment.’ He curved a hand around her neck, drawing her closer into a kiss. ‘How long do we have left?’ he murmured, his lips in her hair, his breath tickling her ear.

  She trembled against him. She knew exactly what he was asking. She’d been counting off the days and nights since she’d arrived, at first with enthusiasm, and lately with a sense of dread. ‘Um, two weeks and four days.’

  And he pulled her closer until their bodies were aligned, length to length. ‘Then let’s not waste a minute of it.’

  Half an hour in the mornings was all he needed these days to clear his desk of anything needing his attention. He was sick of looking at files that meant nothing, sick of worrying about unreturned calls and he’d discovered the joy of delegation and the freedom it brought. Half an hour was enough to clear his desk and his day for Cleo. So it was lucky she chose then to call.

  ‘Sofia.’ He grimaced, remembering he was supposed to call his mother back days ago. ‘I was just about to call you.’

  ‘We need to talk,’ she said. ‘It’s been too long.’

  It had been. And he had things he needed to tell her, things he’d meant to tell her when he’d returned from London. ‘Aren’t we talking now?’