rising.
He wasn’t used to losing. Couldn’t remember the last time he hadn’t got his way in an important negotiation. And this, for reasons he couldn’t fathom, was important.
Callista Manolis got to him as no woman ever had.
She should leap at the chance to share his bed, hoping for the expensive trinkets a man as rich as he could buy her.
But that wasn’t her game. She’d sold herself in marriage once. No doubt she was angling for another cushy, long-term position. She set a high price on her favours.
Except when she pursued a little casual distraction with someone she thought unimportant, someone she could use briefly then discard. As she’d used him at the beach. She’d been warm and wanton in her pursuit of pleasure. So uninhibited he’d plunged headlong into a passion that far surpassed any of his recent liaisons.
He slammed to a stop, frustration rising in a tide that tightened every muscle. At dinner tonight she’d worn a dress designed to drive men to the edge of sanity, hinting at barely concealed feminine treasures. He’d taken it as a sign of her capitulation.
Instead the vixen had been toying with him.
He lunged for the sliding glass door and hauled it open, needing fresh air. He strode out to the flagstoned terrace then catapulted to a stop.
She was here.
His breath stopped as relief swamped him. It came in a rush so overwhelming he clutched at the door. Dimly he registered amazement at the intensity of his reaction.
His heart accelerated to a restless, arrhythmic beat as he watched her pick her way down the path from the main house, holding her long skirts up around her ankles.
Fire glittered on her breasts and round her wrist. She’d worn the diamonds again. But it wasn’t jewellery that fixed his attention. Each time she passed a glowing uplight on the path it turned the fabric of her dress translucent, hinting at her seductive form.
The gown was long, white, gossamer-fine gathers of fabric designed to look like an ancient Greek dress. Fine gold cords crossed at her waist and below her breasts, defining luscious curves and a slim figure. The neckline plunged so deep she couldn’t wear a bra. The silken swish of fabric as she moved was designed, he hoped, to indicate the absence of underwear.
Damon’s hands itched to reach for her. He remained where he was.
Let her come to him.
‘You decided to accept my offer.’ He kept his voice firm, devoid of the raw satisfaction that would betray his pleasure. He would show no vulnerability to this woman.
‘How could I resist such an alluring proposition?’ The words came low and husky in the darkness, drawing the tension in his belly tighter. Yet even in the dim light there was no mistaking the jeering twist of her lips.
She still feigned distaste. Did she never give up?
She stepped onto the terrace and stood a few metres away, hands concealed in the folds of her dress, chin up, expression glacial. Yet that mask of disdain couldn’t conceal everything. Her breasts rose and fell quickly, making the diamonds at her cleavage shimmer.
She wasn’t the ice maiden she pretended. Soon she’d thaw for him.
‘So what is this?’ He waved a disparaging hand at her long dress. ‘Your virgin-sacrifice outfit?’
Her lips curled in a tight smile that didn’t reach her eyes. ‘Hardly. You made it clear it wasn’t an innocent you wanted. I thought that’s why I appealed—because I’ve got such vast experience with men.’
Callie held her breath, amazed at her temerity in baiting him. She didn’t know whether to be horrified or glad she still had strength to trade insults with Damon Savakis. Part of her cringed at what she was doing.
The impulse to flee kept her poised for flight.
The idea of agreeing to this cold-blooded arrangement made her stomach churn and her mind revolt. She was so inexperienced she could count on the fingers of one hand the number of times she’d been with a man.
Her as a
He wasn’t used to losing. Couldn’t remember the last time he hadn’t got his way in an important negotiation. And this, for reasons he couldn’t fathom, was important.
Callista Manolis got to him as no woman ever had.
She should leap at the chance to share his bed, hoping for the expensive trinkets a man as rich as he could buy her.
But that wasn’t her game. She’d sold herself in marriage once. No doubt she was angling for another cushy, long-term position. She set a high price on her favours.
Except when she pursued a little casual distraction with someone she thought unimportant, someone she could use briefly then discard. As she’d used him at the beach. She’d been warm and wanton in her pursuit of pleasure. So uninhibited he’d plunged headlong into a passion that far surpassed any of his recent liaisons.
He slammed to a stop, frustration rising in a tide that tightened every muscle. At dinner tonight she’d worn a dress designed to drive men to the edge of sanity, hinting at barely concealed feminine treasures. He’d taken it as a sign of her capitulation.
Instead the vixen had been toying with him.
He lunged for the sliding glass door and hauled it open, needing fresh air. He strode out to the flagstoned terrace then catapulted to a stop.
She was here.
His breath stopped as relief swamped him. It came in a rush so overwhelming he clutched at the door. Dimly he registered amazement at the intensity of his reaction.
His heart accelerated to a restless, arrhythmic beat as he watched her pick her way down the path from the main house, holding her long skirts up around her ankles.
Fire glittered on her breasts and round her wrist. She’d worn the diamonds again. But it wasn’t jewellery that fixed his attention. Each time she passed a glowing uplight on the path it turned the fabric of her dress translucent, hinting at her seductive form.
The gown was long, white, gossamer-fine gathers of fabric designed to look like an ancient Greek dress. Fine gold cords crossed at her waist and below her breasts, defining luscious curves and a slim figure. The neckline plunged so deep she couldn’t wear a bra. The silken swish of fabric as she moved was designed, he hoped, to indicate the absence of underwear.
Damon’s hands itched to reach for her. He remained where he was.
Let her come to him.
‘You decided to accept my offer.’ He kept his voice firm, devoid of the raw satisfaction that would betray his pleasure. He would show no vulnerability to this woman.
‘How could I resist such an alluring proposition?’ The words came low and husky in the darkness, drawing the tension in his belly tighter. Yet even in the dim light there was no mistaking the jeering twist of her lips.
She still feigned distaste. Did she never give up?
She stepped onto the terrace and stood a few metres away, hands concealed in the folds of her dress, chin up, expression glacial. Yet that mask of disdain couldn’t conceal everything. Her breasts rose and fell quickly, making the diamonds at her cleavage shimmer.
She wasn’t the ice maiden she pretended. Soon she’d thaw for him.
‘So what is this?’ He waved a disparaging hand at her long dress. ‘Your virgin-sacrifice outfit?’
Her lips curled in a tight smile that didn’t reach her eyes. ‘Hardly. You made it clear it wasn’t an innocent you wanted. I thought that’s why I appealed—because I’ve got such vast experience with men.’
Callie held her breath, amazed at her temerity in baiting him. She didn’t know whether to be horrified or glad she still had strength to trade insults with Damon Savakis. Part of her cringed at what she was doing.
The impulse to flee kept her poised for flight.
The idea of agreeing to this cold-blooded arrangement made her stomach churn and her mind revolt. She was so inexperienced she could count on the fingers of one hand the number of times she’d been with a man.
Her as a
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