Sharon Kendrick - Satisfaction

‘Xandros?’ she prompted him, hating the tense and forbidding mask which seemed to have tightened his handsome face. ‘I was asking when you’d last had a home-cooked meal like this?’

He topped up their wineglasses and gave her a bland smile. ‘I don’t remember.’

Rebecca frowned. They never talked about the kind of stuff that other couples talked about. Surely they’d been together long enough now for her to be able to ask him a little more about his past? Because how could they get to know one another better without knowing the basics? ‘What about when you were a little boy?’ she asked, her voice growing gentle—trying to imagine him as a youngster.

‘Was there something specific you wanted to know?’ he questioned coolly.

‘Well, not really specific —I meant more general, really.’ She smiled at him in silent appeal. I’m interested, that’s all —her eyes tried to tell him. ‘You never talk much about your life in Greece, or your brother, for that matter. I can’t even remember his name.’

He felt like pointing out that his brother’s name was irrelevant. ‘His name is Kyros. And there is nothing much to say. You know the facts about my former life.’ His black eyes glittered her a warning. ‘I left when I was eighteen and I have not been back.’

‘But he—Kyros—he’s your twin, isn’t he?’

‘And?’ She was using his brother’s name as if she knew him! As if she ever would! Xandros pushed his plate away and his eyes were cold—for she had persisted when he had made it very clear that he did not wish to pursue the subject.

‘The world seems to have some kind of universal theory about twins which is based on sentiment rather than fact,’ he ground out. ‘The consensus being that there is always some kind of telepathy—some unbreakable bond between them. Well, let me tell you, Rebecca—that much is pure fantasy.’ As were so many of the myths peddled about family lives. That mothers cared and fathers played with their sons.

She was taken aback by the sudden harshness in his voice, as if she had touched on a very raw nerve indeed. Intuition told her to back off, but a far more powerful instinct overrode it. Because what was the point of being with Xandros if all she was allowed to do was operate within the strict emotional boundaries he seemed to want to dictate? Hadn’t that been one of the reasons why she’d organised this wretched dinner in the first place? To burrow beneath his peculiar icy-yet-passionate persona to find the real substance of the man beneath.

‘You sound so bitter, Xandros,’ she ventured quietly. ‘So angry. Won’t you tell me why?’

He flinched as if she had struck him, staring at her. ‘You dare to call me bitter? You dare to speak of what you do not know?’

He was twisting her words, just as he was twisting his mouth into a contemptuous curve of condemnation. ‘It wasn’t meant like that!’ she protested. ‘It wasn’t supposed to be an insult. All I wanted—’

‘I don’t care what you want!’ he bit out. ‘Because what Idon’t want is to unburden myself to you, my beauty.’ Black eyes burned into her. ‘That was never part of the deal.’

His words weren’t making sense. ‘The deal?’ she echoed unsteadily. ‘What deal?’

His heart had begun to pound, the blood to beat thickly through his veins. Draining off the last of his wine, he put the empty glass down on the table. ‘My time with you was supposed to be a pleasant interlude—and now suddenly I’m supposed to be baring my soul just because you’ve peeled a few potatoes. If I’d wanted a damned therapy session I could have crossed the road in New York and found a hundred!’ He saw her stricken face and with an effort, he quelled his fury. ‘Listen, Rebecca,’ he said, in as gentle a voice as he’d ever used with her. ‘What we’ve had together has been—’

‘Nothing!’ cut in Rebecca furiously—because she saw where this was heading as clearly as if she were emerging from the darkness into the bright, glaring light of day. He was about to dump her! And along with that revelation came the realisation of just how weak and compliant she’d been all along—always accommodating his needs. It had been Xandros, Xandros, Xandros all the way. She had tiptoed around him, trying to gauge what he wanted and how he felt. She had walked on eggshells and look where it had got her. Suddenly, she felt filled with self-disgust at the way she had behaved.

So if she didn’t like the way she had been treated by the Greek billionaire—then she had only herself to blame. It wasn’t too late for her to seize the tattered remnants of her pride before he did irreversible damage to it. She sucked in a shuddering breath. ‘You know—for all the fancy restaurants and beautiful hotels—it’s really been nothing but sex and small talk! That’s all we’ve ever had between us,’ she bit out tremblingly. ‘And do you know something else, Xandros? I’m glad it’s over. Yes, glad !’

Xandros stilled, his senses on alert. ‘But I haven’t told you that it’s over.’

Rebecca almost laughed out loud at his exquisite arrogance—if it hadn’t already started to hurt so much. ‘No, that’s right. You haven’t. Because I’m telling you. It’s over—maybe it should never have begun. Heaven knows, I did my best to resist you.’

‘But you couldn’t,’ he taunted.

‘No. I couldn’t. You’re very good, Xandros—I’ll admit that. The best, in fact. It would take a stronger woman than me to resist you and the charm you oozed all over me at the time—but which seems to have been in ever-diminishing quantities ever since.’ Her eyes flashed him a challenge. ‘But at least we both know now where we stand—so I think perhaps you’d better go, don’t you?’

He saw the high flush of colour which washed over her cheekbones and the violet-blue fire which sparked from her eyes and in that moment he knew an overwhelming anger at her insolence and interference—coupled with a rush of desire so strong that he felt himself hardening against his will.

‘Yes, I’ll go,’ he said, and God forgive him but he enjoyed the instinctive way she bit her lip at his ready agreement. She would live to regret her impetuosity! And yet he could not resist one parting shot—one more arrogant demonstration of how he could still pull the strings, should he so desire. ‘But before I do—what about a farewell kiss?’ he suggested, his voice one of deceptive silk. ‘For old times’ sake?’

‘N-no.’ But Rebecca’s protest sounded half-hearted and it was too late anyway, for he had caught hold of her and was pulling her into his arms.

One touch and she was lost. Willingly lost. Like a line of fierce flame sweeping down an arid hillside—scorching everything in its touch with instant combustion. She heard his groan as he tightened his embrace and she heard her own echo it. Please make me stop him, she begged herself—but she made no move to stop him.

Afterwards, she would try to justify her actions by telling herself that it was like someone who was just about to go on a long journey without food or drink—and who could blame them for taking part in a banquet if it was offered?

But this was Xandros as she had never seen him before—like a pure-bred stallion, all excitement and fire. And his wild fervour only fuelled her own urgent need. She wanted to drown in his kiss and take him down with her. His hands were on her breasts, moulding them luxuriously against his palms, and then they were smoothing frantically down over her hips and her bottom—and he had begun to ruck her dress up like a man possessed.

And all the while he was kissing her—varying the kiss so that it was in turns hard, and then soft. Cajoling her and tempting her and then inciting her to touch him back—to run her fingers greedily over the hard ridge in his jeans, so that he gave a low, throaty laugh of pleasure.