LITMIR.BIZ

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herself on the beach and then at the taverna…bringing herself to his attention. He should have walked away then, as he had walked away so many times before. But she had always stopped him—with her defiance, her passion, her vulnerability. Iannis ground his jaw, knowing that was the very last quality of Charlotte’s he wanted to examine right now.

      He felt a familiar tug in his groin and hardened instantly. All he could think of was her face when he made love to her, the way she had called out to him, and his own immense satisfaction when he’d held her safe in his arms. And he had imagined his palate too jaded to respond with such eagerness, Iannis thought bitterly. Had she but known it, he was putty in her hands. But she had killed what might have been, in favour of reaping short-term benefits in cash!

      He wanted revenge. He wanted it now—fiercely, overwhelmingly. For what she had destroyed she must pay.

      She had such an appetite, he remembered, easing his position on the unyielding seat. He met Charlotte’s determined stare with a lazy, slanting gaze. An appetite for danger too—but that could be contained. He would contain it. And he would enjoy testing her defences. It would be interesting to see how much she would reveal under the most extreme form of coercion he could devise. She was angry now, he saw, as he looked at her, but it would take the merest shift to push all that passion onto quite a different track.

      Holding Charlotte’s gaze, Iannis allowed his expression to soften just enough to snare her in his noose, and then, tightening it with a half-smile, he waited for the reaction he knew would come. He had the satisfaction of seeing Charlotte’s defiant gaze falter and her tongue creep out to moisten her lips. She was remembering, he thought with satisfaction. The explosive sex they had enjoyed was hardly something she would forget, he mused cynically, watching her eyes darken with desire.

      Charlotte’s breath caught in her throat as Iannis looked at her. All the reasons for her visit drained from her mind. All she knew was that she wanted him. And when he stood and started moving round the table towards her it was like an irresistible force pulling her to her feet. Meeting him halfway, she felt nothing but a huge rush of relief when they crashed together and his arms closed around her.

      She was home, she knew, and let out a soft cry as Iannis took possession of her mouth. Her lips were soft, still slightly swollen from the last time they had made love, and his mouth felt firm, hungry and demanding, just as she had dreamed it would, as he backed her to the door.

      ‘I want you, Iannis,’ Charlotte sobbed softly as she melted against him.

      ‘You shall have me,’ he promised huskily, lifting her into his arms.

      He carried her up the stone steps as if she weighed nothing, and kicked open a door into the room she had seen once before—but from the other side of the open shutters—then laid her down on the bed and tugged off his clothes.

      This was her Iannis’s home, her fisherman’s home. The two identities swam together and Charlotte sighed, whimpering with anticipation as he turned her on her side. She must try to remember…it was meat for her article…fuel for her soul. The headboard was taupe-coloured suede, the sheets crisp linen—

      The details jarred. Iannis was already stripping off her clothes, and with them went her reason. And then he stretched out behind her, and all Charlotte knew as she groaned in expectation was that he was already naked and very much aroused. The warm touch of his flesh on hers and the jutting pressure of his erection sent a shower of sensation flooding through her, and when he tested her readiness with one skilful hand she angled herself in shameless invitation, so that he entered her smoothly in one deep thrust, bringing one of her legs over his to open her completely.

      He rested a moment, to give them both a chance to savour the sensation, but Charlotte thrust her hips towards him and he began to move deeply and rhythmically, rocking her back and forth, controlling her with one hand while he stroked her very swollen centre of sensation with such an advanced skill and understanding of her needs she was soon sobbing with delight.

      The dual sensation was almost too much for Charlotte to bear—the regular thrusts, the delicate attention to her clitoris made all the better by the fact that for once Iannis didn’t tease, he didn’t make her wait. Instead he took a very lenient view of how many times she could climax without him. Work could wait for ever, she told herself, melting into another violent maelstrom of sensation as he encouraged her with harsh words in his own language. She had no idea what he was saying, but it had the desired effect…

      He dried her with a fluffy white towel after the shower they shared together. They had been kissing all the time under the stream of warm water—Charlotte’s hands reaching up to cup his beard-roughened cheeks, Iannis’s arms resting loosely around her waist. He had given her every bit of the reassurance she’d needed to hear. He was everything she had ever wanted; she was satiated and complete. All her doubts, all her anger had disappeared, and all she could remember was where they had been and what they had done.

      This was the man who inhabited her thoughts every waking moment and was a welcome visitor in her dreams at night. She was in far, far too deep, Charlotte realised as Iannis dropped the lightest, most seductive of kisses on her neck. After what they had just shared she could not pretend to herself any longer that she wanted Iannis for nothing more than sex, or for research of any kind. Just the thought of how cold-bloodedly she had planned her campaign before she met him seemed preposterous now.

      ‘Would you like to take a look around when you’re dressed?’ he enquired, tenderly dabbing at the moisture on her face with the edge of the soft towel.

      ‘I’d love to,’ Charlotte admitted softly, watching him, drinking in his every move, filling her mind with him. This time she had no ulterior motive, Charlotte knew, and she gazed at Iannis with her eyes full of love. She didn’t care if he saw it, didn’t trouble to hide the devotion in her gaze. She never wanted to return to life before Iskos, before Iannis. ‘Are you sure you don’t mind?’ she said, remembering how private he was.

      ‘Would I be asking if I did?’ Iannis countered, one corner of his mouth tugging up so that her gaze was drawn to the sexy, boyish crease down one side of his face. ‘You’re here now,’ he pointed out easily. ‘Be my guest.’

      He couldn’t resist, Iannis realised. Maybe because, just like Charlotte, he had an appetite for danger. He had to torture himself. He had to see how she would react when he drew back the curtain on his life—even if just a chink. Would she show her true colours? Would she continue with the charade? He had to know.

      He softened his expression as he jerked his chin towards the bedroom. ‘After you,’ he invited pleasantly.

      ‘My clothes—’ Charlotte said, shooting a rueful glance at the towel she was wearing.

      ‘I’ll find you something in the bedroom,’ Iannis promised, standing aside to let her pass.

      The flutter of unease struck unexpectedly as Charlotte went past him. This was what she wanted, wasn’t it—access into his world? Then she relaxed again, recognising the cause of her concern. If she wasn’t careful her article would turn into one long love letter to the fisherman of Iskos—and that wouldn’t go down too well with her editor, or enhance her own professional reputation. If the piece was to carry real impact she had to remain objective. She had enough factual information for the article without laying bare her personal feelings for the man in question.

      Charlotte’s gaze settled on a surprisingly elaborate music centre, which sat on top of an old wooden chest. There were CDs piled up all around it, running the gamut from country to classics and jazz. ‘Wow,’ she breathed softly, ‘quite a collection.’

      ‘Don’t you like music?’

      ‘I love it,’ Charlotte admitted, remembering that she had once as she ran her fingertips down the stack. ‘Miles Davis, Ella Fitzgerald—you have excellent taste,’ she said pointedly, hoping to provoke him into saying something revealing for a change.

      ‘Why, thank you,’ Iannis responded evenly.

      Charlotte thought she heard an edge of sarcasm in his voice.

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