Won by the Wealthy Greek. Cathy Williams

tunes at the taverna.

      Creeping onto the balcony, she cautiously peered into the bedroom. There was just one bank of pillows on the bed. No sign of a woman’s touch here, at least…in fact no sign of anyone’s touch. It looked exactly like a hotel bedroom.

      She spotted the shorts and top he had been wearing cast on a chair, but there wasn’t a photograph or even an ornament to soften the room—a disappointment for her professional curiosity, but otherwise a relief.

      Charlotte tensed and pulled back quickly as Iannis strode into the room. She saw him snatch up the shorts, but then a large moth, attracted by the light, brushed against her face. With a soft cry of alarm she raised her arms to ward it off. Iannis froze, and then moved with frightening speed towards the open doors.

      Charlotte had a head start. She ran ahead of him with a speed born of utter panic. If she could just get down to the beach she felt sure she could get back to the villa before he guessed what she had done.

      The moon was stubbornly fixed behind a cloud, which was to her advantage. She heard shutters closing, and knew he must have gone back to lock up. Pausing to catch her breath, with her hands resting on her legs, Charlotte smiled. It had been a close call, but she had got away with it.

      After a few minutes of rapid walking along the beach she heard something else, and stopped again. It was the unmistakable sound of oars clopping into still water. And then she saw the small rowing boat moving steadily across the bay.

      Charlotte uttered a small sound of alarm. She had never dreamed that Iannis would row across the bay—not when he had changed into decent clothes. There wasn’t the slightest chance she could catch up with him now. Marianna would be worried out of her mind when Iannis arrived without her.

      And where would she say she had been?

      CHAPTER EIGHT

      CHARLOTTE had no intention of skulking in the shadows outside her own villa. She could hear Iannis and Marianna talking on the terrace and decided to brazen it out.

      ‘Good evening, Iannis,’ she said, strolling casually towards him.

      He tensed as he swung around to view her through narrowed eyes.

      ‘Where have you been?’ Marianna exclaimed.

      ‘I trust you caught the last rays of the sun?’ Iannis murmured sardonically.

      Charlotte felt her face redden. ‘I stayed longer than I intended to down on the beach…and now I need to take a shower, if you will excuse me.’

      ‘Well, thank goodness you have returned safely,’ Marianna said. ‘I must be going, too—’

      ‘Oh, no,’ Charlotte exclaimed, stopping dead in her tracks. ‘You don’t have to rush off.’

      ‘It is getting late,’ Marianna pointed out, looking Charlotte up and down with concern.

      ‘Perhaps Iannis will walk with you?’ Charlotte suggested hopefully.

      ‘It would be my pleasure,’ he agreed.

      As Iannis and Marianna walked away from the villa together Charlotte felt the tension drain out of her. She’d had more than enough excitement for one evening.

      But less than half an hour later Iannis was back.

      ‘Forgive me,’ he murmured, standing beneath the light on the porch as she opened the door. ‘There is something I forgot.’

      ‘Oh?’ Charlotte said faintly, backing up as he came towards her. ‘Can I find it for you?’

      ‘I have already found it,’ he said, closing the front door softly behind him.

      ‘I don’t understand…’ Charlotte felt her heart lurch as she watched a muscle work in his jaw, and then very slowly he eased away from the door.

      ‘Do you understand this, pedhaki mou?’ he murmured, reaching out for her.

      Even after their closeness on the beach, coming from his lips the endearment was so unexpected Charlotte’s brow pleated fleetingly in bemusement. She had heard the Greek women crooning ‘little one’ to their children, but hearing it now from Iannis thrilled her—made her doubts seem foolish, made her feel safe, she realised as he dragged away the last barrier between them.

      Iannis felt his senses surge to a level that could no longer be contained. Revenge—for all she had written about him, for her deception—would be sheer delight, he mused as he brushed his lips experimentally against Charlotte’s mouth and felt her soften. It would be the most intense erotic experience of his life. And she would enjoy it too. He’d make sure of that. And then she could ask herself where it had all gone wrong. He would fit a lifetime of pleasure into the few short hours she had left on the island—it would be some small compensation for what she had done.

      He pulled back and allowed his gaze to rove over her. She was pulsing with desire, her lips already swollen and pink—as the rest of her would be before long. He took his time drawing her back into his arms, inch by lingering inch, relishing the sight of her eyes darkening and her nipples hardening until surely they must give her pain.

      When a woman as beautiful as Charlotte Clare tried her hand at betrayal she must expect the penalty to be thoroughly and exhaustively exacted, Iannis mused, staring down at her. The only way he could think of to still his smile of victory was by dipping his head to part her lips with his tongue. She welcomed his possession so urgently he exulted. Sex between them was going to be even better than he had envisaged.

      His hands were as firm as she had longed for them to be and her soft moans were becoming more urgent. She was all desire, all hot with longing, and with every other thought erased from her mind. This was what she needed, what she wanted—and Iannis wanted her, which made it complete.

      ‘Do you want me?’ Iannis murmured, holding her away from him to level a burning stare on her face. ‘Is this what you want, Charlotte? Tell me,’ he insisted harshly. ‘Let me hear you say it,’ he demanded fiercely.

      ‘If you want me to beg you will be disappointed,’ she warned, her eyes flashing fire. But even as she defied him Charlotte knew it was everything she had ever dreamed of and more. She gave a gasp of relief as he dragged her against him.

      ‘But you will beg,’ Iannis promised, running his hands lightly down her arms so that she trembled uncontrollably. ‘I’ll make sure of it.’

      ‘We meet as equals, Iannis,’ Charlotte gasped as he swung her off her feet and into his arms, ‘or not at all.’

      ‘You are in no position to make conditions,’ he pointed out, moving deeper into the villa. ‘You said something about taking a shower…?’

      His arrogance was astounding—but she was seduced by the effect it had on her, Charlotte realised as Iannis settled her into his arms.

      Shouldering open the bathroom door, he set her down on the floor and then, strolling over to the shower, switched it on. ‘Take your clothes off, Charlotte,’ he instructed, turning to her, ‘and make it slow.’

      Charlotte felt as if she was melting into a pool of desire. Her lips still stung from his possession, and her body, where his hands had touched, was throbbing with awareness. She was swollen, moist and ready for his possession, but as she went to attack the buttons on his shirt he seized her wrists.

      ‘Not so fast,’ he whispered harshly against her ear. ‘I want to see you naked first.’

      Charlotte could hear her rapid breathing, noisy above the steady swish of the shower, and see Iannis clearly reflected in the mirror above the bath. His eyes were narrowed, his gaze predatory. Relaxing, yielding, easing into his grip, she waited, then tore her hands out of his grasp when he was least expecting it.

      ‘I said equal terms or not at all,’ she warned, raising one brow in furious challenge as she stared at him.

      Iannis had to admit to a rush of pleasure—and not for the reason he