Page 52 of A Diamond Deal
She hadn’t noticed.
Guilt bloomed, thick and heavy, in her throat.
Silent boom, after silent boom, the fireworks illuminated the space. Highlighted each one of his dark, slashing features.
He dipped his head. ‘Did you want to stay behind for this?’ His heated breath feathered her lips.
‘For what?’
‘This.’ He claimed her mouth. Konstantinos possessed it. Commanded it with the skilful pressure of his to open. To let him in. His hands went to her waist She stepped with him as he pulled them from the view of the window to the columned wall beside it.
Her hands rose to his arms. They bulged in her grasp. Strength.Power.It was laced in every muscle throbbing beneath her touch. And she knew she should yank his arms away. That she should not open for him. She shouldn’t let his tongue sweep between her lips and thrust inside.
But she did.
She kissed him just as fervently.
He dragged his mouth from hers. And both breathless, both panting, they stared at each other.
‘More,’ she husked.
He fell to his knees. Hid his gaze in the folds of her dress. His hands gripped her hips. He placed hard, fervent kisses to her stomach.
He reached for the gold hem of her dress at her feet.
She steadied herself on the arc of his shoulders.
‘Tell methisis the more you want,’ he commanded. But his fingers stilled. The dress barely exposing the naked flesh of her ankles held in his waiting fingers.
She closed her eyes. Tried to stem the melting urgency of her body.
She wanted him to lift her skirts higher.
Their desire… Still, it rampaged through her. Stronger than it ever had been. And she knew why. It was because on the balcony she’d glimpsed something.
Something vulnerable beneath his suit.
He’d never reacted to the death of their son with anything resembling the pain she hadn’t been able to contain. But in those articles… Those images… On the balcony tonight…
It was armour, wasn’t it? His image. His public reputation.
On the balcony, it had cracked. She wanted to know who lived inside. To see him break loose from his rigid demeanour of self-control. From the rules that had guided them in their marriage to always put his image first. To keep the fire between them to the bedroom. Behind closed doors.
She wanted to see him as desperate as she was.
She wanted him to surrender to these emotions driving through them here.Now.
And if he can? What does that prove?
He was human.
He…felt.
And if he felt, he could grieve and maybe, just maybe, he felt something for their son.
‘It is,’ she said, and braced herself. Her skirts rose. His mouth pressed hard little kisses to her calf, her knee, her inner thigh.
Then he was there.
