Nine Months To Tame The Tycoon by Chantelle Shaw, Annie West

CHAPTER SEVEN

CORALOWEREDTHEanchor of the small tender and turned on her bench seat to find Strato pulling out the snorkels. He hauled off his T-shirt, leaving her with a view of his tanned chest and sculpted torso. Of the slight fuzz of dark hair that accentuated the shape of his powerful pectorals. Of the way his lean, muscled form tapered to a flat belly and narrow hips.

She was so aware of him. Felt it like an electric charge humming from her fingertips to her toes.

That hadn’t changed, despite discovering last night that he was more complex and intriguing than she’d first imagined.

Despite the fact that, all morning, as they cruised past a scatter of islands, Strato had kept his distance, allowing her space. When they were together he’d chatted without any hint of sexual interest.

It was a relief not to be pestered.

Yes, a relief!

She was not disappointed to be virtually ignored after she’d spent the whole night thinking of him.

Of him and her together.

Besides, Strato didn’t ignore her. He’d been a perfect host. Offering every amenity, yet not fussing around her.

Not by so much as a sidelong glance or teasing comment had he made her feel uncomfortable.

She’d done that all by herself.

After a restless night in her vast bed, imagining how it would be to share it with him, Cora was strung too tight.

‘You’ve changed your mind about swimming?’ His voice cut through her thoughts and Cora yanked her gaze up from where it had stuck on his dark swim shorts and powerful thighs.

Heat warmed her cheeks. She’d been caught staring.

Yet when her eyes met Strato’s his expression didn’t register anything but mild curiosity.

No doubt lots of women checked out his body.

All the time.

Cora gritted her molars and told herself she’d have to do better if she were to maintain a pretence of not wanting him.

‘No. I haven’t changed my mind.’

She undid her shorts and rose a fraction off the seat to pull them down. Then she shucked off her deck shoes, placing them with her neatly folded shorts.

The sooner they were in the water, and she had something to concentrate on other than this man who could have modelled for a Greek god, the better.

Gripping the bottom of her T-shirt, she yanked it up and over her head and folded it, leaning down to place it with the rest of her clothes.

‘You play dirty, Cora.’ Strato’s voice was low and a little rough, making her think of gravel and suede. At the sound of it her body softened as if caressed.

‘Sorry?’ She looked up to find him watching her.

This time, his gaze raked from the top of her scalp down to her soles and back up again, lingering along the way before rising to focus on her face.

‘I promised our affair would go at your pace, but then you wear a swimsuit with a front-opening zip. A long front-opening zip.’ Strato shook his head, his expression mournful but his eyes hot. ‘Underhand tactics, Cora, very underhand.’

She told herself she did not feel adrenaline pump through her blood at that look. As for the thrill tickling its way along her spine and down between her legs, making her shift on the seat...

‘I’m sure you’re used to seeing women wearing much less than this. It’s a perfectly respectable one-piece.’

Because when she’d flung in clothes for this trip she’d avoided packing a bikini. She’d grabbed two one-piece swimsuits instead, telling herself she’d give Strato no encouragement.

He leaned back on his hands in a move that spread his shoulders and bare chest and made Cora swallow convulsively. He really was superbly made.

Just as well he didn’t know she’d spent the night fantasising about him.

‘True. But didn’t you know there’s a delightful piquancy about what’s hidden from view? Topless string bikinis leave nothing to the imagination and I’ve lost my taste for the obvious.’

His voice dropped to a bass rumble that made Cora shiver. Not with fear but something like anticipation.

That tickle between her thighs strengthened, teasing, and it took real effort not to twitch where she sat. Because after a morning of treating her like a sister or elderly aunt, Strato was suddenly looking at her with blatant sexual appreciation. His nostrils flared as if scenting her arousal. The skin across his cheekbones tightened and those remarkable eyes looked slumbrous and secretive. Inviting.

Cora shook her head, making her tone as disapproving as she could. ‘It’s got a high neckline. It needs the zip for access.’

A slow smile began at the corner of his mouth then travelled across his face. ‘Precisely. It’s designed to tempt a man into reaching out and tugging that silver loop down...’ His gaze dropped from the base of her throat to her breasts and slowly, infinitely slowly, to the spot low on her abdomen where the zip ended.

Cora searched for a dismissive response but her throat had dried. She felt her nipples bead and thrust towards him and hoped the black fabric would hide the sight.

‘It makes me think...’ his eyes locked on hers and lightning sheeted through her out of the clear sky ‘...you wore this to tempt me.’

She swallowed. There was an element of truth in that. She’d pulled out both swimsuits this morning, taken one look at the brown with its traditional style and dull colour and couldn’t bring herself to put it on. Because the black with the high-cut legs, the sharp angle in towards her neck that left her shoulders completely bare, and its long zip, made her feel feminine and powerful. Sexy.

She’d told herself she didn’t want to attract his attention but at the first chance she’d dressed to catch his eye.

What did that say about her determination to keep her distance?

She liked it when Strato looked at her with that smouldering stare.

She liked feeling desirable.

Cora had warned herself not to weaken when he tried to seduce her. She hated the idea of being manipulated. Yet this wasn’t him seducing or manipulating but her demanding his attention.

Pride and common sense told her not to fall for his practised charms because all he offered was shallow physical passion. But the rest of her clamoured that physical passion with Strato would do her fine, thank you very much!

She’d been sensible so long, guarding her heart. At least with him there was no pretence of hearts being involved. It was about lust and for the first time in her life Cora discovered how phenomenally powerful that could be.

Powerful and attractive.

Her whole body seemed to throb in time with her quickening pulse. Stoically she ignored it.

‘I dress to please myself, Strato.’ That was true. Seeing the rampant appreciation in his eyes made her feel wonderful. Even if it was wonderful tinged with danger. ‘But if you’d rather not swim with me—’

His raised palm stopped her. ‘On the contrary. I’m looking forward to it very much.’

He passed her a mask and snorkel and she took them, carefully not touching his fingers.

Did he notice? She feared Strato noticed most things. Cora was only too ready to get into the water and away from this conversation. She primmed her mouth and went through the usual safety checklist with him.

For, despite his seduction scheme, ostensibly she was here because of her marine expertise, helping him explore an area he didn’t know. It salved her pride to think she was different from the other women he took on his yacht. More than simply someone to flirt with.

‘Remember, stay close,’ she concluded. ‘Don’t go into one of the sea caves alone.’

The sea was calm today but accidents happened and she was the expert. If she didn’t know where he was...

‘Don’t worry, Coritsa. I intend to stick to you like glue.’ His face was grave but the gleam in his eyes made her breath catch and her knees wobble.

Cora grinned as she hauled herself up onto the sun-warmed rock above the tiny, secluded inlet. What a brilliant afternoon. She rolled her shoulders, filled with that good feeling of muscles well used, and bent to scoop up a towel.

‘That was fantastic!’ Strato’s voice made her turn in time to see him hoist himself up out of the water and onto the broad rock platform in a demonstration of upper-body strength that she envied.

The sight of him, all streamlined strength and toned masculinity, was enough to dry a woman’s throat. Even one who hadn’t been immersed in salt water for hours.

His eyes snared hers, black eyelashes spiked around bright green eyes, and the blaze of exhilaration she saw there stole her breath. Water dripped from his hair, running down his features and his broad chest and for an insane moment she wanted to plaster herself against him and kiss him, trying to absorb some of that vitality, that charge of energy that radiated from him.

Instead she tossed the towel to him and bent to get another for herself before he guessed her thoughts.

Because in that second of connection she’d read no sexual intent in Strato’s expression. Only the pleasure of someone delighted with what they’d experienced.

As she’d been moments ago. Despite their conversation in the boat, she and Strato had spent a companionable couple of hours exploring sea caves, secret bays and even a sunken wreck. They’d seen more varied sea life than she’d expected and, instead of her amateur companion flagging from exertion and wanting to return to his luxury cruiser, Strato had been as eager as she to investigate further.

It had been fun, far more than she’d anticipated. There’d been no awkwardness or accidentally-on-purpose attempts to crowd her. Nothing sexual.

Not until she turned to see him beside her on the flat rock where they’d left their supplies. Sexual awareness had hit with all the finesse of a tsunami.

She rubbed her fluffy towel briskly over her face, then concentrated on her hair, the bane of her life.

‘It must take ages.’

‘Sorry?’ She looked up from where she was bent over, rubbing her long tresses.

Strato nodded at her hair. ‘It must take a long time to dry.’

Cora nodded and straightened, pushing her wet hair behind her shoulders and drying her arms. ‘It does. It’s a nuisance.’

‘But beautiful.’ He turned away, leaving her to deal with the silly jolt to her pulse at the compliment. As if she’d never received one before. ‘If it’s a nuisance, why not cut it?’

He finished using his towel and spread it in the shadow of the white cliff that loomed behind their seaside platform.

Cora looked around for somewhere to lay her own towel while they sat and shared the food they’d brought, but space was small and there was nowhere left but beside Strato’s. Telling herself it didn’t matter because he’d dropped that sexually charged attitude, she spread her towel next to his.

It made her wonder if perhaps he wasn’t as attracted as he made out, that he could turn it off so easily whereas she...

‘I promised I wouldn’t cut it.’ Cora settled on the towel and nodded her thanks as he passed her a water bottle. ‘When I was younger Doris was afraid I’d turn into a complete tomboy and made me promise not to cut it. I wasn’t good at cooking or sewing, or behaving like a good Greek housewife, all the things she tried to teach me, so it seemed a fair compromise. My father backed her up. Said it reminded him of my mother’s long hair.’

That had been enough to convince Cora. Even now, the regret in her dad’s eyes whenever she mentioned cutting it short stopped her.

‘You’re a sentimentalist.’

She looked up but he wasn’t watching her. Instead he was hauling the cold bag closer.

Well, she’d wanted him to drop the flirting, hadn’t she?

Except she couldn’t ignore what he’d said in the boat or the way he made her feel about her body and its increasingly clamorous needs.

‘I’m not sure I’d say that.’ She paused and took a long draught of blessedly cool water. ‘But my father and Doris are special. I care about them.’

Plus there were times, like when Strato complimented her on her hair, that she privately revelled in the flagrantly feminine look. Mostly she was too busy working to think of herself as a sexy woman. Unless she was dealing with sleazy men who thought the generous size of her bust was inversely proportionate to her IQ and that she wanted nothing more from life than to fall into bed with them.

She’d thought she was good at giving them the brush-off. Till Adrian, who’d tricked her.

Cora took another swallow of water, rinsing away the sudden sour taste on her tongue, then handed the bottle to Strato.

His eyes held hers as he lifted it and drank. That now-familiar corkscrewing sensation tightened inside her, drilling down to the aching emptiness within her pelvis. She shifted and looked away, reaching for a tiny tomato and popping it into her mouth.

It burst in a pop of tangy deliciousness and she tried to concentrate on that, not the fact she’d prefer to taste Strato.

He’d taste of salt water and—what was the flavour of that dark golden skin? She imagined licking the line of his sternum, straight up the centre of his chest to his throat. Sucking on that full lower lip.

She gave a shuddery sigh and tried to ignore her tightening nipples.

‘More water?’ Strato held out the bottle again.

‘Not at the moment.’ Because putting her lips where his had been seemed too intimate.

‘There’s wine and beer.’

‘I’ll stick with water, thanks.’ It became clearer by the moment that she needed to keep her wits about her. Lest she give away how aware she was of Strato beside her. It was as if a switch had flicked in her brain, as if the companionable hours they’d spent together meant nothing. Because now her mind filled with him and sex.

Cora passed him a container. ‘Chicken wing?’ Her thoughts strayed to the day they’d met, with him stretched out, naked and mind-bogglingly attractive, and her offering refreshment. It felt a lifetime ago.

‘Thanks.’ He took some chicken, biting into it with strong, white teeth.

Cora took some herself and tried to concentrate on the spicy, marinated meat. But the silence crowded around her.

‘You’ve done much snorkelling?’ Maybe she could distract herself with conversation.

‘Some.’ He dropped chicken bones into an empty container, his hairy arm not quite brushing hers, making her quiver.

Cora shot him a sideways glance but he was focused on the aqua and green depths of the sea.

‘How about scuba diving?’ she asked eventually. ‘I know an ideal place. Another wreck, but in deeper water.’

Strato nodded but didn’t turn. ‘Sounds good to me.’

Yet from this angle he looked to be frowning.

Cora subsided into silence, her usually reliable appetite fading. Her gaze strayed across his broad back to the scar he’d dismissed as the result of an old accident. Curiosity welled but it was fleeting. She wasn’t concerned with old scars but with what had gone wrong in the last few minutes.

He was distracted. That wasn’t her problem. It wasn’t her job to entertain him. Yet the change from enthusiastic companion and would-be seducer, to a man barely aware of her presence, jabbed her ego.

She leaned back on her elbows, looking on the view of their tiny cove. Apart from their small boat there was no sign of people. They were utterly alone.

Strato continued to ignore her. Last night and this morning they’d spoken easily and he’d been a pleasant companion. This afternoon their communication had mainly been via sign language and occasional nods and grins as they swam. Now they didn’t communicate at all.

Odd how bereft that made her feel.

Lying back like this, Cora couldn’t see his face, except for his cheek and the line of his jaw, which she realised was clenched. It matched the hunched line of his shoulders. She shifted, trying to get comfortable, and noticed the tic of Strato’s pulse at his temple. Whatever was on his mind it didn’t look like anything relaxing.

Maybe she should head back into the water while he worked off what looked like abstraction or a bad mood. But she’d swum enough. It felt good to relax. Or it would if she didn’t increasingly feel tension in the air.

She shifted again. Her flat rock wasn’t as flat as she’d thought.

Cora opened her mouth to speak then realised she’d been going to fill the void with chat because Strato’s silence felt brooding. But if he had a problem, it wasn’t up to her to fix it. He was an adult. Let him deal with whatever bothered him.

Stifling a sigh, she folded her hands behind her head and searched for a comfortable position. That was better—

‘If you’ve finished eating we should go back to the yacht.’ His tone was terse.

‘The yacht?’ She frowned. ‘You’ve barely rested or eaten anything.’

‘I’m not hungry and, believe me, I’m not in the mood to rest.’ His voice held a rough edge, emerging almost as a growl.

It shouldn’t bother her, but his mood tarnished what had been, for her, a lovely couple of hours. Stupid to feel hurt. The illusion of companionship between them, even liking, flickered and faded. Just as well. She wasn’t looking for a friendship, or anything else from this man.

Cora rose a little, bracing herself on her elbows. ‘What’s the problem, Strato? You sound like a bear with a sore head. I thought you liked our swim.’

He nodded but she saw his fist clench at his side, and the tendons stand proud beneath his skin. ‘I did.’

Just that. No explanation of why they needed to get back to the yacht. Cora sighed and was about to move to pack up their mini picnic when her obstinate side reasserted itself. She refused to tiptoe around this man, second-guessing what she’d done to trigger his temper.

‘Then what’s up? Or am I expected to put up with your sudden mood swings? At least you owe me the courtesy of telling me why you’ve suddenly turned sour.’

‘You don’t want to know.’

Cora’s breath hissed between her teeth. She did want to know or she wouldn’t have asked. But she refused to labour the point. She’d met enough selfish men to waste time with this one. She sat up with a jerk and began jamming their provisions into the bag they’d brought ashore.

In her haste her hand brushed Strato’s arm.

He stiffened. His head swung round and her breath jammed back in her throat.

For the man whose gaze pinioned her to the spot wasn’t the debonair pleasure seeker she knew, or the charming companion of earlier. There was a fierce light in his eyes while his arched nostrils and tightly drawn mouth hinted at strong emotions.

He looked...elemental. As if spawned from the depths of the ocean or carved from the rock on which they sat. Except he was flesh and blood. She saw the heavy rise of his chest and felt heat radiate from him.

Cora’s breath seized and his hot gaze slid down to the rise of her breasts, swelling against the black fabric.

‘Cora.’ There it was again, that rasping note. A growled warning.

Suddenly she realised she wasn’t the only one beleaguered by sexual arousal. It was there in the etched lines of Strato’s face and the shimmer of tension between them.

‘What don’t I want to know, Strato?’

She knew, but she wanted to hear him say it. Because suddenly caution and common sense didn’t matter a jot in the face of her compulsion to get close to him.

His mouth twisted in what she might have thought a sneer if she hadn’t seen the sweat beading his brow. Strato wasn’t bored or moody. He was racked by tension.

‘That you’re driving me crazy lying there beside me. That we need to return because I promised I wouldn’t touch you and I don’t break my promises. But I can’t take much more.

‘Every time you shift I imagine the feel of your bare skin against mine. The slide of our bodies together. The taste of your orgasm in my mouth. The sound of you screaming when I make you come.’

He paused, his breath audible in the thick silence. Cora’s own breathing had disintegrated as the visions he conjured stopped her lungs working. Her fingers curled into damp towelling as she clung on tight.

‘From the first I’ve wanted you, Cora. From the very first moment.’ His deep voice and frowning face imbued the words with a gravity she felt deep inside. Felt and welcomed because wasn’t that how she’d felt too?

‘I want to feel your tight heat welcoming me inside. I want to suck your breasts and ravish every inch of your body until you can’t remember being with any man but me.’

His massive shoulders rose and fell as he dragged in a slow breath.

‘That’s why we need to leave.’

Yet he made no move. Maybe he too felt glued to the spot.

Finally she spoke. ‘You haven’t asked me what I want, Strato.’

His eyes narrowed. ‘What do you want, Cora?’

For a second she paused, waiting for her protective instincts to kick in. Obviously they were on holiday, or overwhelmed by the inevitable.

‘All of the above.’

She reached for the zip at her throat.