this assault on her senses. It was too dangerous, she realized perhaps too late.
Finally her mouth opened to do it, but that only gave him the opportunity he wanted.
And maybe, just maybe, that’s exactly what she’d intended after all.
His tongue plundered, his lips moving against hers, and drew forth a response only this man had ever engendered. Desire like liquid fire pooled deep inside her and she moaned against his lips. He made a harsh sound of approval, deepening the kiss—if that was possible.
The one outcome to this meeting she’d never expected would be that Ariston would kiss her, or that his nearness and touch would reawaken the sexual hunger within her.
It was too much and not enough.
His free hand pressed against her back, so their bodies came into full, glorious contact. It electrified her.
And made her see a truth she’d hidden from.
For two years she’d craved this very thing, but with a gut-wrenching certainty that it would never again be hers. So she’d suppressed her desires to hold the pain of unrequited need at bay.
Now he was offering to assuage that need and her body was letting her know she’d gone too long without. After three years of a marriage that had included a steady diet of truly mind-blowing sex, she’d cut herself off completely.
And her carefully suppressed libido wasn’t happy.
Not even a little bit.
She was no slave to her body’s desires, or at least she didn’t think she was, but the reasons for not letting him do this were disappearing in the mist of lust boiling through her.
And in a moment of clarity she realized she wasn’t going to give this moment up. Not for the sake of propriety, or what it might cost her, or anything else. No matter how temporary, whatever came later, or however long this physical connection lasted, she was giving herself up to it for now.
She deserved it.
She might even need it, this chance to say goodbye that she hadn’t given herself the first time around.
She already knew the pain of loss and she was strong enough to withstand it again, but she deserved some pleasure for all her pain.
She wasn’t worried that this would make it harder to get over him, or undo the strides she’d made forward in doing so. Because one thing that had become painfully obvious from the moment she walked into his office and looked him in the eye for the first time since leaving Greece, she was not over this man and there were no strides forward.
There was just learning to live without. Which she had done and could do again, but not right now.
The aftermath would come soon enough.
For once, she was going to take something for herself before worrying about the interests of others. She could still ask Ariston what Rhea needed her to. And he would most likely say no, just as he would have before this amazing kiss, but that was for later.
Right now was for them, well, for her … but he certainly seemed every bit as into it as she was.
With that thought, Chloe let her body relax into his, feeling the evidence of his arousal pressing against her stomach. Oh, yes, he was most definitely enjoying himself, too.
He made a sound of triumph and lifted her, carrying her to the couch without ever once breaking the all-consuming kiss. He laid her down, but pulled away.
“No.” She reached for him; she knew he wanted it, too.
His eyes burned with a passion she’d become very familiar with during their short marriage. “I must lock the door. It would not do to shock Jean’s sensibilities.”
It was so like something he’d said once before when they’d made love … had sex … in this very office during their marriage. Chloe was overwhelmed by a sense of déjà vu and couldn’t respond.
He didn’t wait for her to anyway, but moved quickly to the door. The sound of the lock clicking into place was loud in the cavernous office, silent but for their excited breaths.
He had already removed his tie and was working on his shirt buttons by the time he came back to her and Chloe’s breath stalled only to start again with a quick pant. “I’d forgotten how efficient you can be.”
“Did you really?” he asked, sounding like he didn’t believe it at all.
“Maybe not.” Honesty compelled her to admit, “You’re not very forgettable.”
“Nor, yineka mou, are you.”
He’d used to call her that all the time. It could mean “my woman,” or “my wife,”