Damon reached out and turned the door handle.
CALLIE secured the plush bathrobe at her waist then bent to towel-dry her hair.
These last eight days in the luxury of Damon’s private estate had given her plenty of time to think. Yet thinking got her no further forward.
She hated the way he’d forced her into this arrangement. Yet she’d seen glimpses of a better man hidden beneath the surface. A man who, despite every expectation, had gone out of his way to look after a woman he saw as his enemy when she was in distress.
The size of the Manolis family debt to his weighed heavily on her conscience. She could even understand, after dealing with her uncle, how Damon believed she’d tried to trick him in a plot to secure a wealthy bridegroom.
And running beneath all her ponderings lay the swift, dark channel of desire. Strong as rushing water, deeper than she cared to test. It blindsided her too often, especially when Damon held her in his arms every night, spooned in front of him or nestled across his chest. Each morning she’d wake to find they’d snuggled closer in sleep. His thigh between hers, his hand on her breast, her mouth on his warm throat.
Horrified by the way her body accepted his, she feigned sleep till he got up to shower ready for the office.
But nothing stopped the memories of a time when his touch had been magic to her starved senses.
When the time came and he demanded sex, would she resent his domination? Or would she welcome it?
Her indignation and defiance had wilted. Or was it just that today’s news had sapped her strength? After a long discussion with her lawyer there was still no news of the trust. Her plans to start her business were indefinitely on hold. She couldn’t rely on her uncle to hold to his promise.
Callie gritted her teeth and rubbed her scalp harder.
No! She wouldn’t give up. She would make her new start. As soon as she was free of Damon she’d find herself a job and start saving. She—
Callie’s hands stilled, tightening like claws against her scalp. A pair of large, bare masculine feet appeared in her line of vision.
Her heart pumped faster and her breasts rose and fell as her breathing turned shallow. The movement reminded her that beneath the towelling robe she was naked. Her skin contracted in shivery awareness of her vulnerability.
Adrenalin shot into her bloodstream. Suddenly every nerve was on alert.
Slowly she lifted her head. Dark trousers, superbly fitted over long, powerful legs, planted wide in an attitude of assurance. Pockets bulged where his hands rested, obviously at ease. Trim waist, flat stomach. A powerful chest beneath a tailored shirt.
Callie’s heart nosedived as she saw the top buttons of his shirt open, his tie missing and the taut, anticipatory smile on Damon’s beautifully sculpted lips.
His eyes blazed heat that spilled over her, stoking her temperature till her cheeks were on fire.
You’re mine.
No need for words. His proprietorial expression said it all.
The towel dropped from Callie’s nervous fingers and she bent, scrabbling to pick it up.
He stepped towards her and she backed, holding the damp towel in front of her, a token barrier.
‘You’re home early.’ Her voice was a nervous whisper that matched the rising panic deep inside.
She’d told herself she’d go through with this, no matter how cold and demanding he was. He couldn’t damage her pride any more than it had already been savaged. At least his arrogant demands would help her retain her contempt.
But there was a vast difference between theory and reality. Try as she might she couldn’t conjure the cool persona she needed to keep him at bay.
Or silence the voice inside that purred in expectation of his caresses.
The reality of Damon in the flesh, a threat and a promise, sent her pulse skittering.
‘Yes.’ His eyelids lowered, giving him a sensuous look that made Callie’s limbs grow heavy. ‘I wanted to see you.’
Her eyes widened as he opened the cuffs of his shirt.
‘I’ve been thinking about you all afternoon.’
His voice dropped to a deep, ultra-masculine burr of sound that made the fine hairs on her arms stand up. Her nipples peaked and she crossed her arms as if that would prevent her reaction.
‘I…wanted to see you too,’ she blurted, following the dexterous path of his long brown fingers as they flicked open every shirt button.
He raised one brow. ‘Really?’
‘Yes. My things have arrived. The belongings I left at my uncle’s.’
He nodded then shrugged out of his shirt, tossing it onto the linen basket.
Callie tried to focus on the fall of fine silk, but her gaze swung back to Damon. His chest was bare: tanned, muscled, perfect. At the sight of his naked torso her stomach coiled tight and hard. She saw the fuzz of dark hair spread across his pectorals and arrow down his belly and remembered the feel of it teasing her nipples as they’d rocked together, moving as one.
‘There’s quite a bit of stuff,’ she choked out, looking away, holding herself rigid. ‘I haven’t got a home base yet.’
She no longer had a home in the US and her uncle had refused to store anything of hers. He was furious that she’d stymied his plans for a Manolis-Savakis marriage.
‘That’s OK.’
Damon stepped closer, his hands at his belt. Callie backed up till she felt a wall against her spine.
‘It’s all been put in the bedroom at the far end of the hall. I thought—’
‘I said it’s OK. Keep your things there as long as you like. You can use that room as your own.’ He paused. ‘Except that you’ll sleep with me.’
The flash of fire in his eyes confirmed he wasn’t thinking about sleep.
His expression made her defences crumble on their foundations.
Callie had an awful feeling if she let him close now she’d never be able to erect another barrier between them. The force of his personality was too strong.
‘Do you want the shower?’ she babbled. ‘Let me just put this towel back then I’ll get out of your way.’
Callie turned and stumbled to the towel rail, berating herself for her lack of coordination. Her prized composure, even her determination not to show any weakness, had deserted her.
Blood pounded in her ears as she fumbled to hang the towel over the rail. Finally she managed it then tightened the belt of her robe, assuring herself it was secure.
She was turning to leave, desperately searching for something, anything to say that would distract Damon from sex, when a sound made her freeze.
Running water.
Callie spun, then reached to grope for the rail as shock rippled through her.
Damon leaned into the massive double shower, adjusting the temperature of the spray. He’d stripped off the last of his clothes. He was completely, breathtakingly naked.
From this angle Callie saw the long sweep of his back and the heavy weight of his shoulders and muscled biceps as he reached for the taps.
His thighs were solid, muscled and powerful. His buttocks tightly rounded.
She stood, rooted to the spot, unable to shift her gaze.
The solid planes and curves of his body made a magnificent picture.
She’d forgotten just how breathtaking he was. But her body hadn’t. She felt the telltale softening between her legs, the anticipatory buzz of awareness, the revving heartbeat and knew she had to escape. Fast.
For, she finally realised, it wasn’t Damon Savakis she feared. It was her own treacherous frailty.
He made her respond to him in ways she’d never dreamed possible, made her feel—
‘Callie.’
His voice stopped her as she sidled to the door. It was a velvet promise of pleasure that tugged her eyelids to half mast and weighted her unsteady legs.
Just that one word weakened her resolve!
He stood before her, naked and unashamed. Fully, gloriously aroused, Damon Savakis was something to behold.
Callie’s knees trembled as she stared. There was no escape. The faint scent of musk made her nostrils flare in the damp air. From his skin or hers?
Dark eyes scorched her mouth, her throat, everywhere they roved.
Her gaze dropped as he reached for something, a packet. He tore the corner and, eyes never leaving hers, fitted a condom, his movements quick and assured.
There was something incredibly erotic about seeing him, proud and ready for her. A surge of excitement scudded straight to her womb and tingles erupted deep inside.
His gaze claimed her. The melting warmth of her body was proof that physically she was his. He’d imprinted himself on her, awakening longings and desires she’d shelved long years ago. Now those longings centred on Damon.
Panic pulsed. Would she always feel this answering tide of hunger when he looked at her?
It wasn’t the calculating stare that chilled her to the bone. It was the warm, smoky invitation she’d read in his eyes that first time. An invitation to pleasure…and something even more powerful that lured her, heedless of everything but the need to respond.
‘Callie.’ The word whispered through her, tugging at her senses. He reached out and took her tie belt in his hand, yanking so the material fell away.
A hiss of breath sighed in her ears as he watched her robe swing loose.
He stood as if frozen.
Callie experienced a surge of impatience. Why didn’t he follow through?
Touch her? Claim her?
Callie tried to summon indignation, outrage at being made to give herself to him. But nothing came. Only a buzz of excitement at the prospect of intimacy with Damon. It was just as it had been the first time.
Magical.
‘Do you want this?’
It took long seconds before she made sense of his words.
‘Callie. Do you want me?’
He was asking her? No hint of force. Just the compulsive pressure of her own desire.
Damon was handing her the power to say no. Making it her decision!
Callie swallowed a sob as contradictory, unexpected feelings overcame her.
Tomorrow she’d regret this. But right now the honest truth was she wanted this as much as he. It felt as if she’d always wanted this, wanted him.
‘Callie!’
He stepped back, his face paling as his hands clenched at his sides. She almost cried aloud at his retreat.
With difficulty she swallowed a knot of welling emotion.
‘Please.’ Her voice was a mere croak of sound. ‘Yes.’
That was enough. Instantly he stepped close, palming the heavy robe from her shoulders so it puddled at her feet.
His eyes blazed, fever-bright, as he raked her from head to toe.
Instinctively Callie crossed an arm across her breasts and another down over the juncture of her thighs.
But she no longer felt modest. No longer felt like the person she’d known for the last twenty-five years.
Damon had changed her irrevocably.
His knee nudged her thighs as he backed her into the warm shower, his hands sliding to her wrists then skimming up to her shoulders.
Excitement sparked where he touched, exploding with an intensity that snatched her breath.
This felt so right.
‘Damon.’ Even under the steady thrum of water, her hair plastered to her ears, the word sounded like a plea. Needy and bewildered. Callie reached out and clasped his slippery shoulders, needing support. More, needing to touch him with a desperation stronger than anything she’d known.
She craved his strength, his power, his ability to satisfy the hunger that devoured her so completely.
There was no thought now of compulsion or blackmail. This was as simple, as elemental as desire between a man and a woman could be.
‘Glikia mou.’ Damon nuzzled her neck, her collarbone, and shock waves tore through her, making her body jerk and tremble beneath his touch.
‘I want you.’ There was freedom in the words. A freedom she’d never expected.
Callie slipped her hands across his shoulders to his slick hair, clamping her fingers against his skull and drawing him down towards her.
Bliss as he opened his mouth to her. His lips moved sensuously. His tongue laved the inside of her mouth, caressing and teasing and satisfying with slow, erotic strokes. Long, hard fingers bracketed her cheeks and jaw, holding her still as he tilted her face for better access.
Callie’s eyes closed. In the rich darkness colours exploded as their kiss grew from languorous to hungry. From hungry to desperate. Damon’s chest crushed her so exquisitely she rubbed against him, revelling in the slippery friction.
Deep in his throat Damon growled and slid his arms round her, holding her still. His tight embrace was perfection.
She felt him everywhere, from his tongue, warm and seductive against hers, to his hand clasping her bottom, drawing her higher so her soft belly pressed against his steel-hard erection.
Heat coiled and she melted, butter-soft and ready for him. Her fingers slid through his wet hair, seeking purchase as she pressed close.
‘Damon, please.’
She needed him.
Water sluicing on her breasts and belly made her eyes snap open.
Damon still held her but he’d stepped away, allowing the spray to cover her. Callie reached to pull him close, beyond caring that it was her doing the begging.
Obsidian eyes met hers and she dragged in a breath as shock ripped through her. She barely recognised the man before her. His face was stripped bare of softness. The stark angles of his bones, the rigid line of his jaw and the inky black slash of his brows painted a portrait of raw hunger. Of a need that matched her own.