‘Zak.’
‘Shh.’ He lifted his head so that his lips were soft against hers and he teased them open with his tongue. Shouldn’t he delight her again—to reinforce that she was a deliciously healthy and normal young woman? Couldn’t he give her the gift of physical enlightenment, even if he wasn’t emotionally equipped to offer her any more than that? ‘The second time can be even better.’
‘B-better?’
‘Mmm. Slower. More …’
‘Zak!’
‘Mmm?’
‘What … what are you doing?’
He raised his head from its current location just south of her belly, his eyes gleaming in a way which made Emma’s heart give a powerful kick. ‘I’m about to lick you where every woman likes best to be licked and which might make conversation a little difficult. So you’ll forgive me if I don’t answer any more of your questions for a while.’
She wanted to protest that mentioning what other women liked wasn’t the most diplomatic thing to say in the circumstances. She opened her mouth to tell him so but by then his dark head was buried between her thighs and his tongue was darting into her … Oh, God! He was actually kissing her … there—and the only sound she made was a gasp of disbelief that something could feel this good.
Softly, she moaned as his mouth worked some kind of sensual magic—her inhibitions melting away as she squirmed beneath the precision of his questing tongue. For a moment, she couldn’t believe that this was really her—uptight Emma Geary writhing as her boss kissed her in the most intimate place imaginable and made her feel as if he was feasting on her.
Her second climax surprised her almost as much as the first—but then, she hadn’t been expecting either. And she suddenly realised that sexual fulfilment didn’t have to be something which hovered frustratingly just out of range. That if you were with the right man, it could happen as easily as breathing.
‘Zak,’ she whispered, wondering if it would be the wrong thing to do to fling her arms around his neck and to thank him. But he still didn’t seem in the mood for any kind of conversation because he didn’t even wait for the sweet spasms to subside before moving over her and thrusting deep inside her again.
Acutely aware of her own inexperience, she wondered if he was enjoying this as much as she was. But then the rhythm of his body changed and she felt him shudder. Heard the muffled exclamation he made in Greek and revelled in the way he kissed the top of her head afterwards, his hand snaking possessively around her waist, and he gave a deep sigh of contentment.
Silently, she clung to him—not wanting to break the warm spell which made it ridiculously easy for her to start wondering what this might be like on a full-time basis. Would it always be this amazing? Zak had been tender and considerate as a lover, even though she’d known he was angry at her deception. Just imagine what it might be like if he was in a good mood!
‘Zak?’ she questioned softly, when she realised from the sound of his steady breathing that he was fast asleep.
Slowly, she turned her head to look at his soft, parted lips and the starkness of his ebony hair against the snowy pillow. How completely relaxed he looked. His big body was sprawled out, all gleaming olive skin and honed muscle as he took up most of the bed. She thought he was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen and she could have lain there looking at him for hours. But even as she was revelling in the visual feast, dark thoughts began to eat away at her precarious self-esteem.
What had he said? I’m about to lick you where every woman likes best to be licked. Emma bit her lip and turned her gaze up to the ceiling. He had made her sound as if she was just the latest in a long line of lovers—and maybe that had been his intention.
Because that was exactly what she was. In fact, she probably only qualified for one-night-stand status.
She forced herself to confront the facts, no matter how painful they might be. His proud, Greek nature was appalled by her background, he’d told her that himself—and that much hadn’t changed. Why, he’d even gone to the trouble of shipping her across the Atlantic so that he could separate her from his brother.
So what did she think was going to happen now that she’d had sex with him? That he’d take her to that very expensive jewellery shop situated on the eighth floor of his hotel and purchase one of those whopping great diamond rings which glittered so enticingly in the window? She winced. Not all men made ridiculously over-the-top gestures, the way Louis had done. And hadn’t she learned the hard way that those gestures were empty ones? Zak had been fired up by lust and anger and they were no basis for anything solid, or lasting.
She had to get real. To look at the possibilities which lay open to her and then decide what to do. She thought about spending the night here, all wrapped up in his warm body, and temptation whispered over her skin. And then she imagined Zak waking up and thought about what they’d actually say to each other.
The most likely outcome was that he would open his eyes and regret everything that had happened last night. And wouldn’t walking out of his suite wearing a crumpled evening dress in the harsh light of morning only add to her own feelings of remorse? Why, she didn’t even have a toothbrush, let alone a hairbrush! Imagine if she bumped into that nice woman who made her bed each morning—or ran into Cindy. Emma flinched. If it was to be a one-off, then surely at least she could emerge with her pride intact. There’d be no need for any awkward farewells if she absented herself first.
Silently, she pushed aside the duvet and held her breath as she slipped from the bed. But, mercifully, Zak didn’t stir and Emma quietly scooped up her underwear, shoes and dress and carried them into the sitting room. Her fingers were trembling as she dressed, terrified that he would wake up. And she couldn’t bear the thought of facing him—afraid that he would look into her eyes and be able to read her thoughts. To realise that the whole experience had left her with more than the discovery that she was as normal as any other woman. And just as vulnerable. She felt bruised and raw—as if the protective skin she had grown around her heart had been stripped away. Nagging away at her was the growing fear that she could really start to care for Zak Constantinides.
Just before she opened the door, she caught sight of herself in the vast mirror which hung over the marble fireplace, freezing with horror as she saw the image reflected back at her. Her blond hair looked like the ‘before’ photo in a shampoo ad and her dress was so crumpled it could have been mistaken for a high-class duster. But it was her face which shocked her the most—all dark, smudged eyes and kiss-bruised lips.
She looked wanton. As if she’d been designed with no other purpose in life than to provide a man with pleasure. Unable to hold back her revulsion, Emma shuddered.
Because that was how her mother had liked to look—the way she’d lured in all those sleazy men. Hadn’t Emma seen her looking like that when she’d been getting her own breakfast cereal before school? And hadn’t she vowed that she would never, ever get like that herself?
Her fingers were trembling as she picked up her discarded clutch bag and quietly let herself out of Zak’s suite.
‘IF I didn’t know better, I’d ask whether you always crept out of a man’s bed without even bothering to say goodbye.’
A feeling of foreboding whispered over her as Emma looked up into the glitter of Zak’s eyes. Was that anger she could read in them—or merely frustration that she’d been the one to make the decision by leaving his bed last night? That, for once, he had not been the one calling the shots.
Inside her thin gloves, her fingers were cold, and maybe the weather was too inclement to keep