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KENNETH’S DINNER WAS BEAUTIFUL. I wouldn’t be surprised if he’d helicoptered all the best chefs in Greece to Atlantis Villa to cook for us tonight. We were given a choice – kleftiko or grilled lamb souvlaki. I think we all managed to try a bit of both. Well, aside from Athina, who chewed her way through a bowl of salad. I decided she couldn’t be happy.
After dinner, we all assemble on the terrace for drinks. The sun is about to set, and the temperature has fallen from “scorching” to “cosy”. Darius Doukakis, the bronzed dark-eyed film technician, has brought a guitar to play for us, and Nico, the beardy male model, accompanies him by singing classic Greek folk songs. The music stirs memories of a family holiday to Crete when I was a kid. My parents paid for a “Greek culture evening” which Laurel and I both loved, but this is much better. Max seems to be enjoying it too as his foot is tapping away to the music.
As we all relax, I glance at Ethan, who looks gorgeous in yet another white shirt. I think this might be my new favourite look on him. He meets my gaze and smiles so warmly that I feel a rush of desire deep inside me. I wish we could be alone. After the trauma of this afternoon, all I want is to be cuddled up in his arms. I need to feel his skin against mine and our bodies entwining – and staying entwined – all night long.
Athina takes to the dance floor with Tony, the young cameraman. Although I absolutely hate to dance, I do like watching other people. Tony claps his hands in the air, stamps his feet, and then twirls Athina around by her waist. They adopt some classic Greek dance moves: arms outstretched across each other’s shoulders, legs kicking and side-stepping in perfect unison with Darius’s guitar-playing.
“If Ethan doesn’t make a move on Athina, I think I will,” whispers Max.
I giggle. “Why are you giving Ethan first shot?”
“Because I never get the girl when he’s around.” I catch a hint of sadness in Max’s expression. It’s true that Max has never been very successful with women. He dated Tracie Hall, BMG’s nerdy data analyst, for a while. She used to spend her lunch hour doing calculus and solving algebra equations for fun, and she came fourth in a national sudoku championship. Max hates maths, so I have no idea what they did when they were together. Then there was the girl who served at the cookie shop near Bank tube station. Max slept with her three times before he discovered her name was “Jae-ni” as opposed to “Jenny”. The fact she was Korean should have given him a clue.
Maybe Max is lonely. I certainly know what that feels like, so I try to empathise.
“If you like Athina, you should go for it.” I wonder if I’m giving Max false hope. Athina is ridiculously beautiful, and talented, and as we watch her dance, it’s clear she’s also very confident. I don’t think that makes her a cut above Max, or every girl he’s ever dated, but she might think she is. There’s no doubt in my mind that Max would be the most caring, affectionate boyfriend who ever lived, but it’s going to take a pretty miraculous woman to see past all of his eccentricities and terrible fashion choices and locate the guy with the huge heart underneath.
“Her English isn’t great, is it?”
“Well, no, but it’s adequate.”
He nods. “Okay, I think I will try. What should I talk about?”
“How do you usually chat up women?”
“Depends. With Tracie I knew she liked maths, so I pretended I need some help with my tax return.”
“You’re on PAYE. You don’t do tax returns.”
“That’s what she said.”
Oh dear god. “Max, I think you should just be yourself.”
“Well, that’s not going to work.”
I soften my tone. “Why not?”
“Because . . . well, I don’t know. I used to think I had no luck with women because my tallness was intimidating, but that’s bollocks, isn’t it? Maybe I’m just going for the wrong type of woman. I was attracted to Tracie’s super maths brain and Jenny’s – sorry, Jae-ni’s – super cooking skills. Maybe I should be more like Ethan and bang the hot but stupid girls.”
Oh, for crying out loud. How the hell do I let that pass? I suck in a huge breath as Max leans in closer to me.
“Will you ask Ethan if he’ll let me have a shot with Athina?” he asks.
“I will not!” I suddenly feel a surge of sympathy – and female solidarity – for the poor girl. “She’s not a commodity for you and Ethan to take turns with. Jesus! You’re swiftly making me lose all respect for you here, Max. What makes you think Athina would be interested in either of you two anyway? Maybe she’s a professional woman who takes her career seriously, as opposed to looking to have sex with clients every chance she gets.”
He shrugs. “She’s a model.”
I stare at him open-mouthed. “What the hell is that supposed to mean? Max, you’re my best friend, so it’s only fair to warn you that you’re skating on very thin ice here.”
“Okay, okay, why are you being all uptight? She’s a beautiful woman. Why aren’t I allowed to sleep with her?”
“You are, you’re just not allowed to be a misogynistic prick,” I say, probably a little too loudly. “Now get out of my sight.”
“Fine! Thanks for nothing.” He jumps to his feet and struts over to the drinks table to get another bottle of ice-cold Mythos beer.
I shake my head in despair. I’m going to have to sit Max down and have a serious word with him when we get back home. He has his heart set on being Tribe’s new studio manager, but Stella already thinks he’s an idiot. If she learns he’s actually a sexist idiot, then his current zero chance of promotion would fall dramatically to a never-in-a-billion-years chance.
Ethan appears at my left side, drink in hand and a glint of mischief in his eye. “You know, I don’t think anybody would miss us if we snuck away.”
I glance around the terrace. Kenneth and Stavros are deep in conversation, Darius and Nico are still jamming, Athina and Tony are still dancing, and Max is standing in a corner looking pissed off. Would it look suspicious if we left? Do I even care?
“Where would we go?”
He jerks his head towards the villa, then turns around and walks away. I follow him, careful not to make eye contact with anybody as I go. As soon as we’re alone, Ethan leads me to the back exit and into the olive grove which covers a small, sloping hillside. The sky has turned a gorgeous shade of indigo, and as we climb the small hill, we only have faint starlight guiding our way, casting eerie shadows in the grass. I shiver and reach for his hand.
“I’m hoping to find a great view at the top of this hill,” says Ethan. The grass is coarse, scratching at my feet and ankles. I’m wearing strappy sandals, which aren’t an ideal choice for any kind of walking, never mind hill-climbing, but after five minutes we reach the top of the little hill. Ethan sits down on the hard, dry ground and I snuggle in next to him, my insides buzzing with butterflies as his hard body presses against my back.
We sit in silence for a few moments, taking in the view. The villa is beneath us, surrounded by olive trees, and I can make out the path into town that sweeps along the caldera. Oia is painted in shades of blue, with golden lights twinkling from the busy restaurants and bars that will be open long into the night. I look even further into the distance. The sea, dotted with private yachts and cruise ships, is black and still, a strip of silver moonlight leading over the horizon. I think back to my weird freaky behaviour from this afternoon and wonder why I don’t have the same feelings about the sea at night that I do during the day.
“What are you thinking about?” Ethan’s arm leaves my shoulder and he starts rubbing my back gently.
“About earlier. I’m still a little embarrassed about what happened. I didn’t think I’d react so badly. I thought I would forget.”
He pulls my hand into his lap with his other arm, forcing me to face him. “Do you think people ever forget losing someone they love like that?”
“I wouldn’t leave the beach . . . back then.” My nose twitches as I sniff back my tears. “I knew she’d gone, but I didn’t want to leave. I didn’t want to get on the plane. We were there a week, and they took care of her body . . . all the arrangements were made to fly her home. My grandmother, aunts, uncles, our friends – so many people came out to see her. I hated that.” Tears fall from my eyes as I talk. It’s the first time I’ve talked to anybody about that terrible week. “I hated people seeing her body. I wouldn’t see her because I wanted to remember how she was, and if I’d seen her lying there, sleeping, then that image would have taken away my real memories of her. The day we were due to go home, I stayed on the beach for hours watching the waves, feeling the sand, listening to the sounds. I told myself Laurel wasn’t in a cold coffin in a cold stone church. She was in the sea, part of the sea, laughing and smiling, telling me she loved me . . . promising that we’d spend a day shopping when we got back home.” I wipe at my eyes and rub the wetness from my face. My body shivers. How did it get so cold all of a sudden? “There’s a little café in Harrogate that we loved to visit together. It sells the most amazing carrot cake. Laurel used to pour so much cream on it that would run off her plate and across the tablecloth. I’ve never been back to that café since she died.”
“I’m so sorry, Vi. I wish I could make the pain go away.”
“It’s never going to go away – you were right about that. Grief lasts forever, and losing Laurel is part of who I am. I always thought my grief shaped the worst part of me – the frightened, insecure, self-loathing part – but I don’t think that way anymore. I will always love Laurel. I remember how it felt to love her, and I know how to love because of her. She isn’t here anymore, so I can give that love to you instead.”
He inhales sharply at my words as I let my head fall against his shoulder. “I have a lot to thank her for.”
I look up into his eyes. “I guess we both do.”
“I love you,” he says, lifting my chin until my mouth meets his.
I don’t think he’s ever kissed me so softly or so meaningfully before. He wraps his fingers in my hair and cradles the back of my head. I mirror his actions, moving onto my knees and kissing him forcefully, not able to get enough until our tongues clash together in each other’s mouths.
He lowers me onto the grass and we continue kissing each other under the stars. A cool breeze swirls around us. My nipples, pebbled with longing, throb beneath my thin clothing. He stops for a moment and lies on his side, running his fingers tenderly across the goose-pimpled skin of my arm. “How much privacy do you think we have here?” he asks with a laugh.
It’s so dark I can barely see the contours of his face, but I know from his tone of voice that he’s wearing that huge, roguish smile of his. “I think we’re pretty much on our own up here.” I sit up and undo three buttons on my dress, letting the straps fall off my shoulders and down my arms.
“Vi, are you . . . serious about doing this?”
I lean forward and kiss him again. “When am I ever not serious?” I roll him onto his back and straddle him, feeling his hardness as soon as I lower myself onto his lap.
“Fuck, this is hot.” Ethan’s fingers grip my hips as I reach behind my back and undo my bra. “I wish I could see you. Why does it have to be so dark?”
“Because it’s night and we wouldn’t be doing this if it was light.”
“My wallet is in the villa,” he complains as his fingers, then his mouth, find my breasts.
I moan as he takes a nipple into his mouth and pulls hard with his teeth. “We’ll have to improvise then.” I unbutton his shirt, then I let out a gasp as he rolls my dress and pants down over my hips and grabs my arse, urging me to grind against him. I throw my hair back over my shoulders as I move, hoping and praying that the rustling I can hear in the distance is either a very small animal or the breeze attacking a row of bushes. Shit, what if we’re not alone? I can barely see Ethan’s face a few inches from mine, never mind what’s going on ten feet from us.
Leaves rustle again and I stop dead still, my arms instinctively covering my chest.
“What is it?” His voice is low and intense.
“That noise. Listen.”
I lie down next to him, warming myself against his skin. He wraps me up in his arms and kisses me between ragged breaths. “It’s just the wind,” he says, wriggling out of his shorts and pants. “Stay like this though. I like it better like this. I want to feel you close.”
His cock rests hard against my stomach as he lays a trail of kisses from my mouth, over my neck and down to my breasts. One of his arms is folded around me, while the other explores my lower body, rubbing lightly on my inner thighs until I open my legs. I need to feel him inside me so badly that I have to resist the urge to skip starters and dive straight into the main course.
As his fingers play inside me, I take hold of his cock and circle the tip with my finger. The contact makes him groan from deep within his throat. “Oh fuck, that feels good.” His cheek is pressed against mine, our bodies are fused together and we’re massaging each other in a rhythm which intensifies as our desire grows.
The skin at the tip of his cock is so taut that it practically squeaks when I rub my thumb over it, and a tiny amount of warm pre-cum leaks from his body. I know he’s close, so I let myself go too. His fingers rub hard on my clit and I come undone. Huge waves of ecstasy ripple through my body. I pull him close and shriek into his neck just as he comes against my hip.
We hold each other tight until our bodies calm.
“Stay with me tonight,” he says, brushing my dampened hair from my face. “I don’t want to sleep. I want to talk and I want to make love to you . . . but on a comfortable bed.”
“The grass is a bit rough, isn’t it?” I say, knowing the dry ground will probably have etched a pattern into my skin.
He laughs. “Just a bit. I think I’ve got a twig wedged between my arse cheeks.”
“Oh, how romantic.”
“Well, you know, stick aside, this is probably the most romantic sexual encounter of my life.”
“Probably?” I ask, batting his arm gently.
“Probably until we get back to the villa.” He leans in and kisses me. “When we do this – and more – all over again.”