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Theo pushed the thought away desperately. This time would be different. He would make sure Emmie was always safe and cherished—
Lying down beside her on the big bed, he reached for her, lifting her over his body. Her weight was nothing, even though she was pregnant, but his hands shook with the effort it took for him to maintain his self-control as he slowly lowered her over him, her thighs spread to straddle his hips.
She gasped as she felt him push inside her, inch by hard inch, until finally she was pressed to the hilt, stretching her deep. For a moment, he held tight to her hips, not letting her move, as he exhaled, his body tight.
Then, slowly, she began to move, tentatively at first, then riding him harder and faster. His eyes opened, and he looked up at her, seeing her beautiful face with her eyes closed in bliss, her breasts swaying over her belly, her body tight. She tensed again, gripping his shoulders, and he heard her cry out even louder than she had before—
And he lost it. He exploded in ecstasy that he’d never known, in pleasure he’d never imagined even possible. He heard a moan rise to a shout and realized it was his own.
She collapsed over him, sweaty and spent. Exhausted, still dazed by euphoria, he stroked her back. For a few sweet moments he just held her. He felt sated. Safe. Cherished.
For those few sweet moments, he felt like he deserved to still be alive.
The morning sea air was fresh against Emmie’s skin as she sat alone at the deck’s breakfast table. She touched her lips, still bruised from her husband’s hungry kisses.
“Will there be anything else, Mrs. Katrakis?” a young, uniformed crewman asked respectfully, tucking his tray under his arm.
“No, thank you.” As he departed, Emmie sipped sweet, creamy decaf coffee and took another bite ofbougatsa, a buttery, flaky pastry, crunchy and sprinkled with powdered sugar on top, filled with sweet custard. She’d had two big pieces already, along with eggs and fruit.
She smoothed the napkin over her baby bump beneath her simple white shift dress. Brushing her long hair back from her shoulders, she sat back, looking out at the crystal blue sea. She should feel exhausted, with the way she’d spent the last two nights. But she didn’t. Sleeping was wonderful, but not half so glorious as being awake with Theo.
They’d been docked here for two days now, just outside Santorini, and she’d never been so happy. Santorini, she thought. Another name forheaven.
“Good morning.” Her husband fell into the chair across the small table with a wicked smile.
Golden sunlight poured over his high cheekbones and freshly shaven jaw. His open shirt revealed his powerful chest, tanned and caressed by light, shadows etching his muscled pecs and the taut six-pack. Emmie’s eyes fell to the line of dark hair tracing down his belly before disappearing beneath the waistband of his swimming trunks.
Theo was handsome as sin. As always. They must have made love a dozen times since they’d left Lyra. How could she still want more? Mouth dry, she managed, “Going swimming this morning?”
“I was thinking about it.” He poured steaming hot black coffee from a silver pot into a china cup edged with twenty-four-karat gold. “Care to join me?”
“I’m fine on the deck, thank you,” she said, a little primly.
Leaning back in his chair, he smiled at her, his eyes glowing as he placed the edge of the china cup to his mouth. Right against his sensual lower lip.
“Stop that.”
“Stop what?” he said innocently and took a sip, as if he hadn’t been teasing her, making her imagine other places his mouth had recently been. She flushed, feeling her cheeks burn. He gave a sudden grin. “You’re blushing.”
“I’m not. You are,” she said, a little incoherently. Coughing to cover, she looked out at the blue waves and the island of Santorini in the distance.
Theo stared at her silently, then reached for her hand. “What do you say, Mrs. Katrakis,” he said softly. “Would you like to—”
He pulled his hand away as the member of the crew came back out on the deck through the sliding glass doors, holding a covered silver tray. He served Theo his plate of breakfast and departed. Emmie looked at his plate. Just eggs, meat and fruit.
She looked down at her own plate, empty except for the scattering of crumbs. No buttery flaky pastries for him. That was Theo, she thought. No softness, no weakness.
Though he did have a few exceptions. He’d eat a whole loaf of bread, but only from a specific boulangerie in the sixth arrondissement in Paris. He’d devour a bowl of noodles big enough to feed a family of four from his favorite Tokyo shop.
Could she be as uniquely special, as desirable, to him as those hot, crusty baguettes? As that counter-serviceyakisobafrom the Ginza district?
If so she’d have his adoration forever.
“What’s so funny?” he said suspiciously.
She realized she’d been chuckling to herself—wishing she could be as special as a loaf of bread or stir-fried noodles! Stifling her laugh, she cleared her throat. “Nothing.”
Tilting his head, he ate another bite of eggs. “Did I tell you we’re invited to a party tonight?”
