The Greek's Pleasurable Revenge

No way. Her feeble protestation only made him all the more determined that she was going to come with him—back to his villa and back to his bed. He had waited far too long for this moment to allow any second thoughts to creep in, or even to let common decency stand in his way. Certainly not her breathless objections.

‘Lukas, stop—let me go!’

They had reached the small copse behind the ancient chapel, where he had left his motorbike. Positioning Calista between it and him, Lukas finally let go of her hand.

Calista snatched it back, her eyes flashing with fire. ‘Just what the hell do you think you are playing at?’

‘Oh, I’m not playing, Calista. This is no game.’

‘What, then? What are you trying to prove? Why are you behaving like such a...a horrible bully?’

‘Perhaps that’s what I’ve become.’ He gave her a casually brutal stare. ‘Perhaps that’s what four and a half years in prison does to a man.’

Calista’s expression tightened. ‘I don’t even understand why you aren’t still there. You were sentenced to eight years.’

‘Time off for good behaviour.’ His eyes glittered coldly. ‘You see, I was a very good boy whilst I was in there—as far as the authorities were concerned, that is. Now I intend to make up for it.’

He watched her swallow.

‘I do hope my early release hasn’t inconvenienced you?’

‘It hasn’t. I couldn’t care less where you are...what you do.’

‘Good. Then get on the bike. We are going to Villa Helene.’

‘No, we are not.’ Her hand flew to her chest. ‘I’m not going anywhere with you.’

‘And there I was, hoping we wouldn’t have to do this the hard way.’

Easily spanning her waist with his broad hands, Lukas lifted her off her feet and planted her unceremoniously on the pillion seat of the bike. The thin fabric of her skirt rode up over her thighs, pulling seductively taut, while her breasts heaved with indignation.

Lukas fought down the kick of lust.

‘If you don’t get me off this thing right now I am going to scream.’

‘Feel free.’ He smiled darkly. ‘It won’t make any difference. Your dear brothers, along with the other broken-hearted mourners, are already on their way back to the mainland. No one will hear you.’

He saw the flicker of fear in her eyes but she didn’t move. Her pride refused to give him the satisfaction. And for some reason that only increased his admiration—and his arousal. Perched on the leather seat of his bike, she looked like some sort of erotic goddess, her back arched in defiance, her glorious Titian hair tumbling over her shoulders. The mourning veil, he noticed, had fallen to the dry ground at his feet.

‘There’s Petros...and Dorcas. They’re still on the island. Villa Melina is still their home.’

He gave her a telling look. That was something for him to decide—not her. Clearly she was forgetting who called the shots around here.

‘Look...’ She suddenly changed tack, trying for a conciliatory tone. ‘What’s this all about, anyway?’

‘You used to love this bike, Callie, don’t you remember?’ He deliberately used her shortened name, taking them back to the long hot summers of their shared past. ‘You were forever pestering me for a ride.’

They had both loved this motorbike—the sleek black beast that had been Lukas’s sixteenth birthday present to himself. He’d had other bikes since, and sports cars, luxury yachts, a helicopter—all the extravagant modes of transport that great wealth could afford. But nothing had surpassed the feeling of straddling this powerful beauty all those years ago, made even better by the feel of Callie’s skinny arms clinging to his waist as they had roared off, the sound of her excited squeals in his ear.

Coming across it in the garage this morning, just where he had left it, he had felt as if he were meeting an old friend. One old friend, at least, that hadn’t let him down. She had obediently started first time after he had charged the battery.

‘I think we’ve both grown up since then.’ Calista tossed back her flame-red hair, all sharp-angled defiance and dignified posturing. ‘Or at least I have.’

‘Indeed... I wouldn’t dispute that.’ Lukas gave a derisive laugh. ‘I seem to remember we engaged in some very grown-up activity last time we met.’

Again she flushed, as if she found the memory of what they had done intensely shameful. As well she might.

‘Well, that’s not something that is going to be repeated, I can assure you. Despite your earlier threats.’

‘Not threats, Calista. Think of it more as a promise.’

‘You are such an arrogant piece of work, Lukas, you know that?’ Emerald eyes flashed with fire. ‘I promise you this: what happened between us will never happen again.’

‘No? You’re sure about that, are you?’

‘Quite sure.’

‘Then coming back to my villa for a couple of hours won’t hurt, will it? Unless you don’t trust yourself, of course?’

‘I trust myself, Lukas. It’s you I don’t trust.’

‘Ah, yes, of course. I keep forgetting that I’m the villain of the piece here.’

‘Yes, you are!’ Calista immediately fired back at him.

He had to hand it to her—her acting skills had improved significantly over the years.

‘In that case let me reassure you that nothing will happen between us unless you want it to.’

Was that true? It should be. His well-rehearsed plan had always been to trick her into wanting him, just the way she had him. But if she carried on looking at him the way she was now he wasn’t sure he’d be able to hang on to his control.

He studied her from beneath lowered lashes, lazily, slowing himself down. Unless he was very much mistaken there was something else in that fiery look of hers. For all her prim deportment, her expression of outrage, her feisty comebacks, something simmered beneath the surface. Something that looked remarkably like sexual arousal. Yes. He would have her screaming his name with pleasure before the day was through. And then revenge would be his.

Swinging his leg over the bike, he turned the key in the ignition, gripping the handlebars and feeling the mechanical vibrations rumble through him.

‘I’d hang on if I were you.’ Speaking over his shoulder he twisted the throttle and the engine roared in reply. ‘Let’s let this old girl off the leash and see what she can do.’

And with a sudden jolt and a screech they were off.

* * *

Calista had no choice but to wrap her arms around Lukas’s waist as they sped away from the cemetery, leaving its occupants in blissful peace as Lukas navigated the bike onto the coastal road that wound its way round the island. She leant her body into his, the wind whipping her hair back from her face, drying the breath in her throat as she clung on for dear life.

He was driving deliberately fast, she knew that, trying to frighten her, make her squeal. Well, she wasn’t nine years old any more, and she certainly wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of behaving as if she was. In fact as soon as they got to the villa she would show him that she didn’t intend to take any more of his bullying ways.

The stunning Greek scenery flashed past, the dramatic coastline with its towering cliffs and secluded coves stretching before them. Screwing up her eyes against the glare of the sun sparkling on the sea, Calista knew it wasn’t fear she was feeling anyway. It was exhilaration. She felt alive, invigorated, realising how good it was to be back on Thalassa. More than that, realising how much she had missed it.

She adjusted her position slightly and felt Lukas’s body respond, the broad width of his back heating against the crush of her breasts, the muscles of his waist shifting beneath the grip of her hands. A dangerous shudder of pleasure went through her. The island wasn’t the only thing she had missed. And she was going to have to be very careful about that.