father's side is Greek, my Mother is English."
"Are you bilingual?"
"Yes, although I start in with the Greek when I get angry or emotional, without even noticing." From past experience he'd found it was best to warn people of that little foible in advance.
"I'll keep that in mind." A teasing look passed over her expression. "Did you grow up here or there?"
"Here mostly, I went to school in London but we spent a lot of time in Athens too. My older sister is married and lives there."
"Tell me about her."
Something about her made him feel comfortable, relaxed, so he talked. That wasn't what he was expecting at all, nor to be talking about his own family, his sister Nanette, and her family life. He'd intended to learn more about Abby this evening. He wanted to find out what made the intriguing Ms. Abigail Douglas tick.
"And does the English blood account for your blue eyes?"
"Indeed, yes. Do you know much of Greek culture?" he asked, drawing her away from the reference to his mother's side.
"One island-hopping holiday with my parents, when I was fourteen." She gave a gentle laugh, as if embarrassed by the idea of being a tourist.
He looked at her, imagining her as she might have been then.
"What?" she asked, in response to his scrutiny.
"I am trying to picture you as a girl at fourteen. It's hard because you are such a woman."
Pleasured by his remark, she looked at him with a beckoning glance, every part of her oozing lush femininity. He wanted to take her into his arms, make love to her long and slow.
"Thank you," she whispered.
"Did you enjoy the islands?"
She picked up the glass of yellow-green wine and sipped it, her eyes closing appreciatively as she swallowed. She was so responsive and sensual. "Yes, but not fully." She looked at him. "My parents always wanted to rush from one sight to another. It was all just a list of places. I like to explore, to take on an adventure if there's one to be had."
He smiled. "So I've noticed." He took a swig of his wine, nursing its sharp zesty flavor in his mouth, enjoying the after taste of pine.
"Are we still talking about the Greek Islands, or something else?" She looked so inviting, her eyes filled with secret messages about what they had done the night before, what they would do again. He almost forgot he wanted to talk at all.
He took her hand, meshing her fingers with his. "I'm sorry, I did slip into thinking about having sex, but you do that to me."
She chuckled. "The experience is mutual." She mouthed a kiss at him.
Now he was getting hard.
"This Retsina is good." She took another sip, her glance heavy with allure over the rim of the glass. "Actually, speaking of sex, I had my first, well...sensual awakening, I suppose you'd call it," she glanced at him from under her lashes, "in Zante."
Well and truly hard as rock . "Go on…"
"I was alone near the harbor one evening, watching the fishing boats come in. I felt something. Her free hand reached to the back of her shoulder. "Here."
He listened intently as he imagined it.
"At first I thought it was an insect, but then some innate reaction in my body told me what it was. It was something sensual, sexual."
She was like a drug, he decided in that moment. If the building had been on fire, he couldn't have stepped away. So much for caution. He rode his fingers against hers, wanting it to be their bodies meshing that way.
"I turned around and there was a boy standing behind me, a dark-eyed gypsy. He'd kissed my shoulder." Her fingers trailed across the back of her shoulder again. "I felt both fear and the thrill that comes from...inside." She locked her fingers with his, and they merged for a moment, totally in tune. "It touched me deeply and I can still remember how I could barely breathe." Their fingers rode up between each other, their eyes speaking without words.
She laughed, breaking the moment. "That's all that happened, but it was a special moment, moving."
"It's the poor youth I feel sorry for." He drew
"Are you bilingual?"
"Yes, although I start in with the Greek when I get angry or emotional, without even noticing." From past experience he'd found it was best to warn people of that little foible in advance.
"I'll keep that in mind." A teasing look passed over her expression. "Did you grow up here or there?"
"Here mostly, I went to school in London but we spent a lot of time in Athens too. My older sister is married and lives there."
"Tell me about her."
Something about her made him feel comfortable, relaxed, so he talked. That wasn't what he was expecting at all, nor to be talking about his own family, his sister Nanette, and her family life. He'd intended to learn more about Abby this evening. He wanted to find out what made the intriguing Ms. Abigail Douglas tick.
"And does the English blood account for your blue eyes?"
"Indeed, yes. Do you know much of Greek culture?" he asked, drawing her away from the reference to his mother's side.
"One island-hopping holiday with my parents, when I was fourteen." She gave a gentle laugh, as if embarrassed by the idea of being a tourist.
He looked at her, imagining her as she might have been then.
"What?" she asked, in response to his scrutiny.
"I am trying to picture you as a girl at fourteen. It's hard because you are such a woman."
Pleasured by his remark, she looked at him with a beckoning glance, every part of her oozing lush femininity. He wanted to take her into his arms, make love to her long and slow.
"Thank you," she whispered.
"Did you enjoy the islands?"
She picked up the glass of yellow-green wine and sipped it, her eyes closing appreciatively as she swallowed. She was so responsive and sensual. "Yes, but not fully." She looked at him. "My parents always wanted to rush from one sight to another. It was all just a list of places. I like to explore, to take on an adventure if there's one to be had."
He smiled. "So I've noticed." He took a swig of his wine, nursing its sharp zesty flavor in his mouth, enjoying the after taste of pine.
"Are we still talking about the Greek Islands, or something else?" She looked so inviting, her eyes filled with secret messages about what they had done the night before, what they would do again. He almost forgot he wanted to talk at all.
He took her hand, meshing her fingers with his. "I'm sorry, I did slip into thinking about having sex, but you do that to me."
She chuckled. "The experience is mutual." She mouthed a kiss at him.
Now he was getting hard.
"This Retsina is good." She took another sip, her glance heavy with allure over the rim of the glass. "Actually, speaking of sex, I had my first, well...sensual awakening, I suppose you'd call it," she glanced at him from under her lashes, "in Zante."
Well and truly hard as rock . "Go on…"
"I was alone near the harbor one evening, watching the fishing boats come in. I felt something. Her free hand reached to the back of her shoulder. "Here."
He listened intently as he imagined it.
"At first I thought it was an insect, but then some innate reaction in my body told me what it was. It was something sensual, sexual."
She was like a drug, he decided in that moment. If the building had been on fire, he couldn't have stepped away. So much for caution. He rode his fingers against hers, wanting it to be their bodies meshing that way.
"I turned around and there was a boy standing behind me, a dark-eyed gypsy. He'd kissed my shoulder." Her fingers trailed across the back of her shoulder again. "I felt both fear and the thrill that comes from...inside." She locked her fingers with his, and they merged for a moment, totally in tune. "It touched me deeply and I can still remember how I could barely breathe." Their fingers rode up between each other, their eyes speaking without words.
She laughed, breaking the moment. "That's all that happened, but it was a special moment, moving."
"It's the poor youth I feel sorry for." He drew
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