Page 29 of Forbidden Greek Mistress
My God, she remembered every single thing.
She remembered Thanasis, at last.
She remembered every single moment she’d spent with him, in vibrant, passionate detail—including the night she’d left.
Saskia,she whispered, if only in her own head.I am Saskia Gordon.
And he wasn’t wrong. Everything he’d told her was true. Especially the fact that she had been madly, wildly, head over heels in love with him.
I was madly, wildly, head over heels in love with him.
But she bit all of those memories back as she watched Pavlos sneer at her before he left the room.
Once he was gone, she felt her body reject that unwanted kiss even more. She ran to the bathroom, brushed her teeth and spat. Then again. And again.
And only when there was no trace of that man in her mouth did she go to find the card Thanasis had given her in the place where she’d hidden it away, because some part of her must have known that nothing was safe here. She pulled it out and she let her fingers trace over his name.
Thanasis Zacharias. No corporate logo necessary. Just his name and a number, because everyone knew who he was.
And now she did, too.
She knew exactly who he was to her.
And when she called, he answered on the first ring.
“Are you all right?” he asked, and she could hear that undercurrent of urgency, that dark imagining, right there in his voice. She could feel him all over her, and inside her.She knew who he was.“Has something happened?”
Everything,she wanted to say, but she couldn’t. She didn’t.
“I would very much like to leave the island,” she told him, sounding astonishingly prim when inside of her it was all fire and wonder andhim. Them. “And I’m under the impression that that won’t be possible.”
On the other end of the line, she could hear Thanasis breathing, but he didn’t speak.
Her eyes fell closed, because she rememberedallof him now. His naked body, drenched in sunlight, as he stood there beside the bed they’d shared. As he pulled her to him to wrap her legs around his waist and thrust deep and sure inside of her.
All of him,like that first time, when she’d kissed him on the street and he’d had to keep her hands from going where they shouldn’t, not out in public.
I don’t want to rush this,he’d told her.
I do,she’d replied, and nipped his perfect lower lip.
He had checked them into the nearest hotel, carried her over the threshold of the suite he booked on the spot, and only when he’d laid her out on that bed and come down beside her had she smiled at him and brushed her hand over that impossibly beautiful face of his.
Like she was learning it by touch.
I want to do this a great many times,she told him quietly. Intently.But you will have to be careful at first, because I’ve never done it before.
He hadn’t asked questions. He had gazed at her as if he could drink her down whole, or perhaps as if she was the answer to a prayer he hadn’t known he’d sent up in the first place.
Fos mou, he had said quietly.My light. I assure you, there will be nothing between us but pleasure.
And for so long, that had been true. For so very long, it had been enough.
She heard him shift on the other end of this line and tried to imagine where he was sitting. In that office of his that she’d snuck into once, late at night, so she could do unspeakable things to him and make certain he thought of her while he sat there ever after.
He’d made certain to punish her for that.
Deliciously.
