LITMIR.BIZ

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her life? The thought slid into her mind very briefly, but then, just as swiftly, slid straight out again.

      ‘D-do…?’

      Her voice failed her, drying painfully, so that she had to moisten her lips before she could speak again. In the light from the hall she saw Constantine’s black eyes drop to her mouth, to follow the tiny, unconsciously provocative movement with an intensity that made her heart jerk convulsively against her chest.

      ‘Do you want to come in?’

      ‘Do I…?’ It was a shaken, husky laugh. ‘Grace, I swear to God that if you don’t let me in with you right now, I’ll—’

      ‘There’s no need for that!’ Grace broke in hurriedly, shaken, breathless, half terrified of what he might be about to say. ‘Come in, out of the cold.’

      It seemed to her that the slam of the door behind her, shutting out the world and closing them in together, was a sound of decision, defining a moment that would change her life for ever. It was now too late to go back, to even think of changing her mind.

      And she didn’t want to. All she wanted was right here, with her, at her side. His arms enclosed her. His heart beat under her cheek, and she felt as if she had come home.

      But once inside the mood changed sharply. She had barely closed the door before Constantine released her so abruptly that she felt as if she had been dropped from a great height, landing, stunned and disbelieving, on a very hard floor.

      She could only watch as he pushed his way into her flat and prowled around it like some caged wild beast, scenting out the borders of its new territory.

      Slowly, deliberately, he turned on his heels so that his dark-eyed gaze could take in the comfortable living room with the pale cream armchairs—the room was too small to take a settee—peach velvet curtains, and softly polished pinewood dresser. On the far wall, opposite the big bay window, was a Victorian style cast-iron open fireplace set in a tiled surround.

      ‘It’s not very big…’ he murmured at last, his survey completed.

      ‘It’s all I could afford!’ Grace protested indignantly. ‘We can’t all have homes on every continent and a private plane to ferry us between them.’

      ‘Half of the houses are owned by my parents,’ Constantine pointed out, his tone coolly reasonable. ‘I only have the use of them.’

      ‘But what you do own my poky little flat would fit into a hundred times over.’

      ‘Did I say it was poky?’ he murmured smoothly, continuing his exploration.

      He didn’t need to, Grace was forced to reflect, ruing her foolish tongue. What she had really meant was that now she saw him in her flat it was as if his tall, imposing presence so dominated the room that it appeared it had shrunk around him, becoming impossibly small and claustrophobic.

      ‘W-would you like coffee?’ Belatedly she remembered her role as hostess.

      ‘No.’

      Stark and uncompromising, it was tossed over his shoulder at her as he studied the collection of paperbacks on her bookshelf.

      ‘Tea, then?’

      ‘No…’

      ‘Something stronger?’

      The question was high-pitched and uneven, coming from a throat that had tightened uncomfortably over the question she knew she was really asking. This was his opportunity to say no, he couldn’t drink any more because he was driving.

      ‘Some wine, perhaps?’

      An autocratic gesture dismissed the question; Constantine’s attention was still fixed on her book collection. But then a moment later he shook his dark head.

      ‘Perhaps—yes…’

      ‘Oh, for heaven’s sake, Constantine!’ Grace exploded, more on edge than she had allowed herself to admit. ‘Yes—no—perhaps… Which is it?’ she added, braving his swift frown. ‘Make up your mind.’

      ‘Cristos, I am trying to be civilised, that is all! But I feel—’

      ‘You feel?’ Grace echoed when he broke off abruptly. ‘What do you feel?’

      Unexpectedly those black eyes avoided her questioning grey ones. It was such a shock to see the confident, self-assured Constantine Kiriazis so uncharacteristically at a loss for words that it gave her the determination to go on, push him a little harder.

      ‘Constantine? What do you feel?’

      For the space of another heartbeat he still hesitated. But then, just when she was sure he was going to ignore her completely, or change the subject, a dismissive lift of the broad shoulders under the elegant coat shrugged off whatever restraint he was imposing on himself.

      ‘I feel totally uncivilised,’ he muttered, his voice thickened and rough. ‘If you want the truth, I feel wild, pagan—primitive.’

      Well, she’d asked!

      ‘And why…?’

      ‘You know why!’

      Constantine flung the words at her as if he hated having to speak them. Yellow flames of emotion flared in his eyes, burning away the control he had been imposing so ruthlessly up until this moment, and his proud head went back in a gesture of defiance.

      ‘I feel this way because of you. I want you! I’ve wanted you all night! I’ve always wanted you—and I doubt if I’ll ever be cured of this need. The two years we’ve been apart have been hell. Not having you has been like an ache in my gut, always there, always reminding me of how it used to be.’

      ‘Me?’

      She couldn’t believe what she had heard. It wasn’t a declaration of love, but right now it was enough. He wanted her. He had missed her. He had hurt being without her.

      ‘Grace.’

      Her name was a raw, rough-voiced sound.

      ‘Grace, come here!’

      Common sense screamed at her to be careful, to hesitate, to allow time for second thoughts. But her heart brushed aside such foolish considerations impatiently.

      She wasn’t even aware of having moved before she was across the room and in his arms, feeling them close around her, holding her tight.

      His mouth claimed hers in the same second, shocking in its wild, hungry demand. And Grace responded in kind, all the pent-up longing, the loneliness, the agony of the past two years exploding into a white-hot, raging conflagration of need. She kissed him back with all the force of her emotions laid bare for him to see.

      ‘Grace, pethi mou…beautiful Grace…’ Constantine muttered against her mouth. ‘You are mine. You always have been mine. I will let no one else…’

      ‘There is no one else,’ Grace managed breathlessly, dragging in air in a brief respite from the calculated assault upon her senses. ‘No one now, no one—’

      Some sixth sense had her snatching back the final word before she spoke it. She wanted Constantine to know that there was no other man in her life right now. Whether she also wanted to admit that there had been no one else since he had walked out on her was quite another matter entirely.

      Oh, there had been plenty of interest. She had even been out on a few dates. But they had been short and not particularly sweet. No matter how hard she’d tried, she’d found it impossible to put on even a show of an interest she was very far from feeling.

      And now she knew why. For the past two years she had been slowly starving inside, wasting away emotionally without a sight or sound of Constantine to nourish her. She had been in suspended animation, like Sleeping Beauty, waiting only for his kiss to bring her alive again.

      And she never wanted to go back to those empty days. Never wanted even to think of them. Particularly not now, with

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