Modern Romance July 2015 Books 1-4. Maisey YatesЧитать онлайн книгу.

       CHAPTER EIGHT

      WHAT A DIFFERENCE a day could make. Or a night. A night when Loukas had seemed determined to show Jessica everything she’d been missing.

      Sex.

      Her throat dried.

      A devastating masterclass in desire and satisfaction.

      She had hardly slept a wink and by rights she should have felt terrible when she met the crew to resume shooting the following morning. But terrible was the last thing she felt. She felt alive. As if all her senses had suddenly exploded. The diamonds, which yesterday had hung like a millstone around her neck, today made her feel pampered and decadent as they glittered against her skin—and the close-fitting silk of her bodice no longer felt constricting. She was conscious of the way it clung to her breasts—thrusting them upwards and giving her a bit of a cleavage and reminding her of the way Loukas had licked his way over every inch of them during the sensual night they’d shared.

      ‘Wow,’ said the photographer softly as she stood in the gondola—only today she had no trouble keeping her balance, despite the rocking motion of the distinctive craft. And when she was told to pout and look dreamy, she had no problem with that, either. In fact, it was difficult to look anything but dreamy when all she could think about was the man whose black eyes had grown opaque and smoky as he had lowered his head to kiss her.

      But kisses could blind you to the reality and she had to keep reminding herself that it had only been about sex—because how could it ever be anything else? He’d made it clear that experience had hardened him. That he had changed and now there was no room in his life for marriage. She thought about the way his voice had grown cold when she’d asked about children, and—bearing in mind the things he’d told her—could she honestly blame him for not wanting any? All the things he’d told her about his childhood made her aware of just how grim his early life must have been. No wonder he’d been so reluctant to speak about it in the past. And then to discover out of the blue that he had a twin brother—a discovery like that must have rocked his world.

      So she was going to have to be very mature. To accept the person he was, and if last night was the only night they would ever share, then she would accept that, too. No tears. No regrets. And definitely no recriminations. She’d had her chance a long time ago and she had blown it. She had no one to blame but herself.

      This time Loukas didn’t watch over the photo shoot, telling her he needed to work, before slipping away from her room in the early hours. She supposed he hadn’t wanted anyone to see him leaving, knowing that it might muddy the waters if the crew discovered that the CEO was sleeping with the model.

      She spent the entire day being photographed, but that ice-cube feeling was a distant memory. The ballgown was followed by a slinky white silk trouser suit, with nipped-in jacket and wide palazzo pants. The diamond necklace had been replaced with neat diamond studs and, with a nod to her previous career, she wore a tennis bracelet—a narrow row of diamonds, which glittered discreetly at her wrist. The last shot of the day was of Jessica wearing a monochrome mini-dress, teamed with waterproof boots as she stood in the centre of a flooded St Mark’s Square, and even though her arms were covered with goosebumps she didn’t feel particularly cold. Patti fed her sips of hot coffee and torn-off little pieces of croissant. Tourists gathered to watch, only today she didn’t mind, and when the art director called it a day and came over to congratulate her, she experienced a feeling of real achievement. She’d done what she had set out to do. She had pulled it out of the bag and given them what they wanted. She’d shown them—and herself—that she was capable of change, and wasn’t that a very empowering feeling?

      They all trooped back to the hotel through the echoing streets of the darkening afternoon and Loukas was just coming down the sweeping staircase, leaving Jessica wondering whether someone had rung ahead to tell him they were on their way. Her heart pounded as she watched him move, so dark and so vital, capturing the attention of every person in the place. He walked over to talk to the art director and she tugged the cashmere wrap closer, feeling her nipples tightening beneath the soft material, afraid someone might notice and work out why. They chatted intently for a moment and then he looked round, his black gaze sweeping around until it had found her, and her heart began to race even faster as he walked across the foyer towards her.

      A faint smile lifted the edges of his mouth. ‘I gather you excelled yourself today,’ he said.

      She smiled, trying to ignore the sudden yearning deep inside her. Trying to convince herself that she only felt this way because he was a powerful, alpha male she’d spent the night with and that was how nature had conditioned her to react. ‘Thanks,’ she said.

      ‘I’m tempted to ask what has changed since yesterday,’ he murmured. ‘But I think we both know the answer to that, wouldn’t you say, koukla mou?’

      She tilted her chin. ‘Are you looking for praise?’

      ‘Why would I need to do that when you gave me all the praise I could possibly want last night?’ His lashes shuttered down to half conceal the ebony glint of his eyes. ‘Would you like to repeat some of it, in case you’ve forgotten?’

      ‘That won’t be necessary,’ she said hastily. She could see Patti and the others moving towards the elevator—presumably to pack—and her heart grew heavy as she realised that it had all come to an end. And she didn’t want it to come to an end. ‘I guess I’d better go and pack as well.’

      ‘Well, you could. Or you and I could stay on for an extra day and give ourselves a chance to see the city properly?’

      She stared at him.

      His eyes glittered. ‘What’s the matter, Jess—doesn’t the idea appeal?’

      ‘It’s not that. Surely you have...’ She tried to keep the tremor of excitement from her voice. She shrugged. ‘Oh, I don’t know. Work to do.’

      ‘I’m the boss. Work can wait—while I, on the other hand...’

      His words trailed off, smoky, suggestive and edged with a raw hunger which left her in no doubt what he was thinking. But it had been a long time since Jessica had engaged in sexual banter and she’d forgotten the first rule about keeping it light.

      ‘What?’ she whispered.

      ‘I don’t want to wait,’ he said softly. ‘And I don’t intend to. I still want you. I want you so badly that I’m hard now, just standing this close to you. So hard that I want to rip those trousers from your delicious legs and put my hands where that silk has been.’

      He had lowered his voice so that only she could hear, but even so Jessica found herself looking around, terrified that a passing guest would overhear, or that someone discerning would correctly interpret their body language.

      ‘Loukas,’ she said, only the word didn’t come out as it was supposed to do. It came out all throatily, like a husky invitation instead of a protest.

      He shook his head, as if pre-empting her objections. ‘One night wasn’t enough. Not nearly enough to cancel out eight long years of a slow-burning fever in my blood. A fever which has never quite gone away, no matter how many other women have graced my bed. Has it been like that for you too, Jess?’ His voice dipped. ‘I’m guessing so. Because you were wild for me last night. Wild,’ he finished silkily.

      Her instinct was to play it down. To clamp down on the feeling before it had started to grow and take hold. It was a survival mechanism which had served her well