Carole Mortimer - Mediterranean Seduction

She loved the way he brought the robe tight over her sensitised body, loved the ownership in his firm clasp and the tickling sensation when his warm breath ruffled her hair. This was everything she wanted. She could stay, send back her work to England from Iskos; she didn’t need to go home ever again… this was home .

So why couldn’t she relax? Why was a worm of doubt creeping into her mind again? Charlotte wondered, gazing up to search Iannis’s eyes. Because nothing was as it seemed? Because the man she loved was an illusion, a figment of her imagination?

When you wanted something so badly, wanted to believe in someone so badly, you could talk yourself into anything. But, even accepting that, she wanted to hold reality at bay and lose herself in his piercing gaze. She wanted to believe everything Iannis had made her believe. And, worse still, she ached for her own fanciful ideas about him to be true. Iannis Kiriakos, fisherman of Iskos .

The phrase scorched a path of scorn right through her daydreams. Running her fingers over the dense weave of the blatantly luxurious robe, Charlotte could hardly credit the fact that she was still staring into his eyes, still wanting to believe. It was pathetic. She was pathetic! Mashing her lips together in anger, she dragged her glance away and waited until she had regained some semblance of control, then, turning back to Iannis, she smiled. Let him think she was still sucked into the deception. Then she might at least have the satisfaction of discovering the truth about him.

‘What are you looking so serious about?’ Iannis demanded softly.

There was such power in his voice, such authority—and he knew how to use it, Charlotte realised, feeling it raise all the tiny hairs on the back of her neck. ‘Nothing,’ she managed casually.

‘Why don’t I believe you?’ he said, removing the glass from her hand.

‘I don’t know,’ Charlotte murmured. She swallowed convulsively, feeling her senses flare. If she was to go along with this deception she had to go along with all of it, she realised, quivering as Iannis used his hands as a musician might, running them lightly down the length of her arms, only to use a firmer touch as he brought them up to her shoulders again.

‘Kiss me,’ he demanded, dipping his head so that their lips were only a fraction apart.

The music changed. It had to be a compilation Iannis had put together, Charlotte realised, holding her breath as Aretha Franklin started singing.

‘This is wonderful music for—’

‘Dancing,’ Iannis supplied, slipping his hands around her waist to draw her close. ‘Do you like it?’ he murmured, and his mouth was so close to her ear that his breath threw a lasso of sensation around her senses.

Like it? Charlotte wasn’t able to think clearly enough about anything to give him an answer. She wanted only to burrow into Iannis, to drink in his warmth, to relish the way they fit together, like two pieces of the same jigsaw. She was suddenly relaxed, disarmed, completely contented. Her heart felt as if it was about to burst. Was this love? To see a fault in a relationship and refuse to acknowledge it, not allow it to intrude on the depths of your feelings?

She gazed up, knowing her emotions were plainly on show for him to see. But his gaze was hard, and a cold dash of reality intruded. Love was not an issue here, Charlotte realised—there was only lust between them. Lust and suspicion. Love was not a condition she could even contemplate where Iannis Kiriakos was concerned—not if her self-esteem really meant anything.

‘You’d better get dressed,’ he said as the track ended. ‘Your clothes are still in the bathroom.’

‘Yes, of course,’ Charlotte said, stepping back promptly to save her pride. ‘I’ll go and get ready.’

‘Are you hungry?’

The normality of the question made her pause. ‘A little,’ she admitted curiously.

‘I’d better feed you, then. I don’t want you fading away.’

There wasn’t the remotest chance, Charlotte thought, reading the message behind his eyes.

‘Feel free to look around when you’re ready,’ he suggested. ‘I’ll make an omelette. Marianna left some chocolate cake for me—if you’re good, I’ll share it with you.’

‘What do I have to do to be good?’ Charlotte pressed lightly with a provocative smile as she struggled to restore some of her confidence.

‘I’ll think of something,’ Iannis promised, catching hold of her around the waist for another kiss.

He made everything sound so innocent, so normal—if only it could be, Charlotte thought wistfully, softening as Iannis slipped his hand beneath her robe.

‘Theos, you have skin like silk,’ he murmured as Charlotte pressed against him. ‘Be quick,’ he murmured, pulling away. ‘Then come and join me.’

‘Quick’ wasn’t the word for it, Charlotte mused as she rifled through the last cupboard as quietly as she could. Her lightning search of the bathroom had confirmed all her suspicions. The cottage definitely wasn’t his main home—there was no clutter. But she had been surprised to discover an aftershave so exclusive she guessed it was hand-blended. And then there was the black leather Penhaligon toiletry bag, the wet shave kit from Tiffany’s, and a shower with enough power to stop an elephant in its tracks.

Simple fisherman? I think not, Charlotte mused tensely, relieved that she had already made plans to construct her article around an idealised version of the simple fisherman she had first imagined Iannis to be. If he ran a small business, it wasn’t here on Iskos.

A sound outside the door prompted her to replace everything as quickly as she could. Then, checking her appearance briefly in the mirror, Charlotte hurried to join Iannis.

* * *

‘Delicious,’ Charlotte exclaimed, finishing up the last scrap of her omelette. ‘You must be every woman’s dream.’

Iannis cast her an ironic glance. ‘Don’t get used to it,’ he warned as he collected up her plate. ‘I cook when I’m hungry, and that’s it.’

‘It will do for me,’ Charlotte murmured, helping him to load everything in the sink.

‘Will it?’ he said sardonically. ‘So, what do you think of my simple cottage?’

‘I like it a lot,’ Charlotte admitted cautiously. ‘I can see that you have a very good life here,’ she said, going along with the pretence.

‘I do, and I won’t allow anything—or anyone, for that matter—to spoil that for me.’

He dipped his head to look at her as he spoke, so that their eyes were on a level, and Charlotte had to make a conscious effort not to flinch as she looked at him.

‘I can understand that,’ she said, pinning a smile on her face. ‘You’ve got everything you need here.’ For a holiday home, she mused thoughtfully. But the way he talked of his life on Iskos made it sound so much more than that.

‘Some people certainly seem to think so,’ Iannis said, cutting into her thoughts. ‘Now, come here.’

Charlotte knew she should run—run as fast as she could away from this man she knew nothing about—run out of the cottage and out of his life for good. But invisible cords seemed to be drawing her towards him instead.

‘Iannis, I—’

‘Yes,’ he murmured softly, ‘I know. Come here, Charlotte. Come to me.’

He held out his arms to her and she took the single step necessary. Then, tilting her chin so that she had nowhere to look but into his eyes, Iannis brushed his lips very gently against her mouth.

That was all it took. Exhaling a ragged breath, Charlotte softened against him as he swung her into his arms. They didn’t make it as far as the bedroom this time. Laying her down on the padded banquette beneath the window, Iannis stripped off her clothes and lay down beside her as soon as he had rid himself of his own.