Kassiani reached for her phone to check the time but she hadn’t brought a charger and it had died during the night.
For several minutes she lay there, thinking of Damen, and what had happened between them, and she wondered if she should go find him, but knew it would look silly to search for him on his own ship.
And then she felt the yacht surge forward, and realized that the engines had started because they were leaving the bay. She lay on the bed and gave herself over to the lovely motion of the yacht traveling through the water. The gentle rocking motion lulled her back to sleep.
When she woke again, it was morning, the sun high in the sky, and a breakfast tray waited for her on the table next to the bed, with a pale pink robe draped across the foot of the bed and her set of luggage from the villa standing sentry next to the door.
Kassiani slid from the bed and picked up the robe, slipping her arms into the silk sleeves. The robe was soft and incredibly light, hugging her curves as she tied the sash at her waist. Glancing into the mirror, she loved the color of the kimono. It was a pale pink that deepened to a rose at the thigh and by the hem had become a gorgeous burgundy. Burnt-orange peonies and delicate little birds had been hand-painted on the watercolor background and yet the cinched sash made her waist look wide and her body overly lush.
She really, truly hated her shape.
Damen hadn’t seemed to mind when they were together, but then, he’d left in the night and hadn’t returned. What did that mean?
She set the breakfast tray on the bed before climbing back in, and pulling the covers up. As she sat back down, she felt a little sore.
Suddenly she felt nervous and shy.
What did Damen think of last night? Was he disappointed? Or had she been able to satisfy him?
She reached for the pot of coffee, and filled a cup. Steam rose from her cup so it was still quite hot. The tray had only recently been delivered, then. She wondered if Damen had brought the tray to her and then grimaced. Unlikely.
She took a sip from her cup, savoring the coffee. She loved her coffee black, and strong, and this coffee was perfect. Everything was fine. Damen was fine. Last night had been fine...more than fine... There was no reason to worry. Things were just new and different.
She took deep calming breaths as she sipped her coffee, practicing the yoga breathing she’d learned, the breathing more helpful than the yoga poses that had just made her feel clumsy. Just like that, Kassiani felt a wave of insecurity, and she deliberately smashed her fears. Worrying wouldn’t accomplish anything. Instead, she reached for one of the pastries, selecting a flaky bougatsa filled with custard, and tried to decide how she was going to spend her first day as Mrs. Damen Michael Alexopoulos.
* * *
Damen had more than enough work to do to spend the day, and evening, at his desk.
He told himself he didn’t need to worry about his new bride, that it wasn’t a good use of his time and energy to obsess about her.
They’d survived the wedding. They’d consummated the marriage. They would be together for the next week or so as they sailed the Aegean Sea. Why should he worry? Kassiani had an entire yacht of entertainment at her disposal. She’d be content, and for his part, he was far more content away from her. She wasn’t what he’d expected. He hadn’t been able to sleep even in the guest bedroom. His body didn’t feel like his body. His senses remained stirred. Everything in him was still alert, aroused.
It boggled his mind that he’d responded to her the way he had. He didn’t normally feel so much in bed. Sex was exercise, a release. It didn’t move him. It didn’t confound him. But Kassiani had made sex new somehow. New and fascinating and unbelievably good. Better than some of the best sex with his most experienced mistresses.
Great sex, hot sex, hard, carnal sex, wasn’t normally an issue for him, but he had rules, and walls, and boundaries and hot, hard carnal sex stayed in the bedroom, and didn’t intrude on the rest of his life, and yet last night, even after leaving the bedroom, he felt her.
He thought of her.
He wanted her.
Even now he wasn’t relaxed. Instead, he’d wanted to return to the bedroom and wake her with his mouth and fingers and cock. He wanted to hear her make those whimpering sounds as she came. He wanted to feel her body arch, her full breasts crushed to his chest, her moisture creating the perfect silken slickness for each of his hard thrusts.
Damen jerked off twice in that damn guest bedroom, his mind and body too aroused and refusing to be soothed.
Feeling so much was disorienting, and distracting. He kept having washes of memory. Memory of home. Memory of olive groves. Memory of a lean tan boy who’d once loved deeply, before becoming a monster.
Damen slammed his hand against the door, slamming away memories, suppressing sensation and emotion. He refused to go there. He refused to get caught up in the past. And if Kassiani was wakening the past, then far better he take control of their relationship now before she let the monster loose.
* * *
In the end, it was a disappointing day for a newly married woman.
Kassiani had tried to keep busy. She’d tried to remain upbeat. She’d tried to fill her hours, which was why she swam in the fitness pool, sunbathed on the sundeck, napped for an hour in the shade, found two books in the library and watched a movie in the theater, with meals and snacks and cold beverages served in between by attentive staff.
Kassiani had successfully kept herself occupied, but as she finished her after-dinner liqueur, and changed for bed without a single appearance by her new husband, she couldn’t help feeling let down. Maybe even betrayed.
Yes, it was a superyacht, but theoretically, it wasn’t that big. He knew she was there. And he hadn’t once sought her out.
Turning out the light, she sat on the foot of the bed in the dark. Her emotions swirled within her, cloudy and confusing. Last night when she had fallen asleep next to him, she felt safe. Secure. There had been no regrets, just relief and surprise...maybe even joy. The lovemaking had been a joy.
She hadn’t expected that. She hadn’t expected to feel so good in his arms. She hadn’t expected to relish the sensation of him, in her, filling her.
But now, in the fading light of day, she didn’t feel as calm and content. In fact, she didn’t feel calm at all. She was unsettled, and bewildered.
The lovemaking had been so intimate. They’d explored each other’s bodies and given each other so much pleasure, and yet now Damen had retreated, and she didn’t know if it was intentional or not, but today he’d shut her out, completely.
She drew her knees up to her chest, and sighed, because on second thought, she was sure it was intentional.
Damen Alexopoulos was a man who left nothing to chance. If she hadn’t seen him, it was because he’d avoided her today, not easy on a yacht because they were confined. At sea.
If he hadn’t bothered to find her, and speak to her, and check on her well-being, then it was because he wanted her to understand that he was the boss. Not her. He was teaching her her place. And her place wasn’t with him.
It was deflating, especially after what had taken place last night.
But in a strange way she understood. They had been so intimate, and so open, that it was understandable that today he wanted to take back some of that power, because Greek men were all about power. Her father had been the same. Damen was letting her know that she might be his wife, but she wasn’t an equal, and she most definitely wasn’t his partner.
* * *
He wasn’t going to go to her tonight. He would lay down the routine now, the pattern that they’d live by. The sooner she understood that he had control, and he valued control, the better.
But