Dareios made excuses the next day. Alexandra could only call it that.

He was with the captain, or the cook, or the engineer. He was touring the engine rooms, or the pumps, or checking the radio and satellite connections. Or even doing inventory on the life boats of all things.

He appeared at meals—which left Alexandra blushing. She might never be able to look at a bowl of gelato again without getting wet. But Eva was there, too, and chattering away about the camp and how she was looking forward to teaching the kids about water color, and how she was hoping they’d be able to work with clay, too.

They anchored in Methoni, and Eva insisted on touring the castle. Afterwards, she dragged Alexandra and Dareios into a small open-air restaurant, saying she was starving. Every bit of food reminded Alexandra of how Dareios had made her feel—how he had touched her, and what he had done with her. She’d never felt like that—and she wasn’t sure if it was him or the gelato. Who knew a desert could be so erotic?

She couldn’t get it out of her head. It didn’t help that every touch—every time he held out his hand to help her climb a stone step, or when he handed her the hummus for her to dip her dolmas into, or when they accidentally bumped hips on the narrow streets, she thought of his touch.

She thought of his tongue pressing into her. She thought of his hands on her breasts, squeezing so hard. She thought of him nipping the skin on her hips—she hadn’t dared put on her bikini because of the marks he’d left, faint bruises that reminded her of what he’d done. And she’d loved it. All of it.

As the heat of the day rose, they went back to the Kairos. The launch that would take Eva back to the dock waited, and she had her luggage packed. She hugged Alexandra and then Dareios. Eva whispered something in his ear that actually had him blushing.

And then she was gone, the launch roaring away in a splash and a spray of salt water.

Dareios glanced at Alexandra. For a moment, she wondered if he was going to put her into the second launch and send her away—to the airport and back to Athens. Her heartbeat quickened. She held her breath. And then he asked, “Do you wish to dine outside this evening?”

She let out the breath she had been holding. Looking up into his eyes, she asked, “Do you want to eat outside?” Reaching up, she traced the buttons of his shirt.

He put his hand over hers, flattening it against his chest. “Do you have any idea of what you do to me?”

Alexandra nodded. She had some idea, but would love to have those thoughts turned into action. She took a step closer, pressing her breasts against his hard chest. “The same things you do to me.”

He kissed her, and then trailed his lips along her cheeks and across to her ear. He took her earlobe between his teeth, and when he nibbled, she grasped his shoulders to keep from falling. He wrapped an arm around her waist. “We’re not talking marriage, remember?”

“Not even an engagement. Not even dating,” she muttered, dizzy and smiling.

“Just a fling.”

She nodded and ran her tongue over her lower lip. “A wild…very wild fling.”

She moved her hands down to his hips and pushed one between them so her palm rested on the bulge pressing against the fly of his shorts. He pushed into her touch and she smiled. She toyed with the tab of his zipper. “You didn’t find pleasure last night.”

He groaned. “I found it in my cabin.”

She rubbed her hand over his hard length. “With one of the crew?”

He shook his head. “Fling…remember. No commitments.”

Her face heated, but she nodded.

He moved his mouth to her ear and whispered, “Do it. Release me before I explode.”

Alexandra dropped her head to his shoulder. The crew was on leave until this evening. Eva was gone off to her summer camp. Even so, Alexandra’s heart pounded. They were in the open—exposed. But they were far enough from shore that it would be difficult to take pictures, and they stood on the seaward side of the yacht.

Slowly, she pulled down the zipper, the sound faint against the harsh cry of seagulls. She brushed her hand against heat and hardness—he hadn’t worn underwear. She traced the back of her fingers against his solid length and then wrapped her fingers around him.

“Alexandra,” he said on a groan. He skimmed his hands down her back and over her ass. She pulled harder at him and he pushed into her fist, pushed up against her belly. She wanted him inside her—wanted him closer.

Dareios dipped his head and kissed her. This time the kiss went out of control. He ravaged her mouth. He moved his lips lower, sucking at her collarbone. He pressed his hardness against her again. She gave a moan this time. She was wet—and aching. He came in a hot spurt into her hand, his body shaking, his back arched. She watched his eyes close and his face relax. Her mouth dried.

When he opened his eyes, he stared at her, and then pulled back. He zipped up and turned away from her. And Alexandra was left standing there, need filling her, wondering what she had done wrong. Or what hadn’t she done?