LITMIR.BIZ

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powerful body was sprawled over Maria’s, his face buried in her throat, their hearts still racing, skin damp with the commingled sweat of their passion. The night breeze, drifting across them from the still-open door, was chill. But when Alex began to ease away, Maria tightened her arms around him.

      “Don’t go,” she murmured, and felt his lips curve in a smile.

      “I’m not going very far.”

      He reached for the throw at the foot of the bed, wrapped it around them, rolled to his side and gathered her close in his arms.

      “Are you all right?”

      It was her turn to smile. “Yes.”

      “You sure?””

      “Very sure. I’m fine. I’m perfect. I’m—”

      “Yes,” he said, laughing softly as he kissed her, “you are.” Tenderly, he brushed back the tangled curls on her forehead. “Forgive me, agapi mou.”

      “For what?”

      “For not making love to you this way the first time.”

      She shook her head, lay her hand against his cheek. “That first time was wonderful.”

      A very male smile lit his face. “Thank you. But you were a virgin. I should have gone slower.”

      “You didn’t know.”

      “I should have.” He turned his face into her hand and kissed the palm. “There was such a sweetness to you, glyka mou. Such an innocence. The way you touched me. Responded to me.” His hand slipped down her body, cupping her breast, then the curve of her hip. “I’ve relived those moments a hundred times,” he said huskily. “The feel of you. Your little cries. The way you blushed when I undressed you.” His mouth twisted. “The way I ruined it all with my terrible accusations.”

      Maria put a finger over his lips. “Didn’t some wise man once say that the past is best left in the past?”

      Alex drew her fingertip into the heat of his mouth. “Do you forgive me?”

      “Forgive you for what?” she said, with a little smile. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Alexandros.”

      His eyes darkened. “I love how you say my name.”

      “Alexandros,” she sighed, “Alexandros, Alexandros, Alexandros …”

      Just that—the sound of her voice, the feel of her against him—and he felt himself turning hard. “Maria,” he said, “my Maria,” and then he was inside her again, deep inside her, and the night enfolded them in its magical embrace.

      Just before sunrise, when the grass glittered with dew, they dressed and made their way to the house.

      “Someone will see us,” Maria hissed as Alex drew her inside.

      “Who could possibly see us?”

      “Spoken like a true potentate,” she said, laughing up at him. “What about Athenia? The cook? The maids? The rest of the staff?”

      Alex swung her into his arms and carried her to his room. “The souls of discretion, I promise.”

      Well, of course. They would be. Maria’s smile dimmed just a little. No point in being foolish about this. Other women would have slept in Alex’s bed…

      “No.”

      She looked up. Alex was watching her and smiling.

      “No, what?”

      “No other women, sweetheart. Not here.” He could see that she was surprised. And pleased. Crazy as it seemed, so was he. He set her on her feet, gently pushed her back against the closed bedroom door and framed her face with his hands. “Just you. Which means,” he said solemnly, but with a glint of laughter in his eyes, “we’re going to have to celebrate the occasion. Initiate my bed properly.” He bent his head, brushed her lips with his. “Champagne. Candles. Rose petals. How does that sound?”

      Could he feel her heart racing? Could he possibly know what was in that racing heart, the emotions that she had spent the past two months, the past two days trying her best to deny?

      “It sounds wonderful.” She moved, just a little, enough so she was pressed against him. “But won’t it take an awfully long time to get all those things together?”

      She saw the change sweep through him. The narrowed mouth. The tic of a muscle in his jaw. The hint of exciting male passion that seemed to make the beautiful structure of his face even more pronounced.

      “Maria,” he said thickly, “Dear God, Maria …”

      They didn’t make it to the bed. Not then. But they did the next time, and the next, where they made love until the Aristan sun blazed bright and hot in the perfect blue of the sky.

      When he awoke, the space beside him was empty. He sat up, the covers falling to his waist.

      “Maria?” Naked, he padded to the bathroom. The door was locked; he heard the sound of running water and then nothing. “Maria?” he said again, and knocked.

      “I’m fine,” she called, but the weak sound of her voice was evidence of the lie. His heart turned over. She’d been sick before, sick again, and now… “Maria? Open the door. Please.”

      There was a silence. Then he heard the lock turn. The door swung open and he saw his Maria, standing at the sink with a toothbrush in her hand, looking at him in the mirror. She smiled, but her face was pale and sweaty.

      “Kardia mou,” Alex said urgently, stepping behind her and encircling her with his arms, “were you ill again?”

      She nodded. “A little.”

      “Maria, this has happened too often.”

      “It’s just flu, Alexandros,” she said, forcing another smile. “New York’s loaded with it.”

      “This is not flu. I had flu last winter. Andreas had it, too. With flu you’re sick and then you get better. But you—you’re not getting better.”

      “I am. Much better.”

      “I will take you to my doctor.”

      “Don’t be silly.”

      “He will examine you, glyka mou, and prescribe an antibiotic.”

      “Antibiotics don’t work against viruses, and flu is a virus.”

      “Such logic,” Alex said, trying to sound angry when what he felt was fear. She was so pale, her eyes so dark… “Come here,” he said, and turned her and drew her close. “I don’t want you to be sick, sweetheart. Let me take care of you.”

      “I’m fine. Honestly.”

      “Thee mou, you’re a stubborn woman! Very well. No doctor.” He swung her up in his arms. “At least, come back to bed and rest for a little while.”

      He carried her to the bed and lay down with her in his arms. Kissed her tenderly. Stroked her back. And, inevitably, as he held her, as his body heated hers, as she burrowed against him, tenderness gave way to desire.

      “Are you sure you’re okay?” he whispered as he touched her. “Shall I stop?”

      “Don’t stop,” she whispered back, “don’t ever stop.”

      And he didn’t.

      She was gone again, the next time he awoke.

      A knot of apprehension formed in his belly but the bathroom door stood open and the room was empty.

      He showered quickly, pulled on jeans, a white T-shirt and mocs, and went downstairs. He could hear the radio playing softly in the kitchen, turned to Athenia’s favorite music station. She smiled at him.

      “Kalimera,

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