“They were wrong, Morgan. And I was wrong. And I know you weren’t insane, because I felt the same way, too. And I couldn’t get to you, either. I couldn’t find you, and all I wanted was to find you and apologize, and fix things, and change things, so that we could be happy. I knew we could be happy. I just needed you home.”

She reached up to knock away a tear before it could fall. “But I didn’t come back.”

“No. But I wouldn’t give up on you, or us. I still can’t give up on us.” He reached out to wipe her cheek dry with his thumb. “Tell me, my love, that I haven’t waited in vain. Tell me there’s a place in your life for me. Give me hope, Morgan.”

She just looked at him, deep into his eyes, for a long moment before leaning forward and kissing him. “Yes,” she whispered against his mouth. “Yes, there’s a place in my life for you. There will always be a place in my life for you. I need you, Drakon. Can’t live without you, Drakon.”

His mouth covered hers, and he kissed her deeply, but it wasn’t enough for her. Morgan needed more, craved more, and she wrapped her arms around his neck, and opened her knees so he could move between them, his big body pressed against hers. Still kissing her, he pressed her back onto the chaise, his towel falling off as he stretched out over her, his hand sliding up her rib cage to cup her breast.

Morgan hissed a breath as his fingers rubbed her nipple, making the sensitive peak pucker and tighten. His other hand was moving down her torso, tugging up the hem of her dress, finding her bare inner thigh, his touch sending lightning forks of sensation zinging through her body, making her body heat and her core melt. She wanted him, wanted him so much, and she sucked on his tongue, desperate for him to strip her and feel his warm, bare skin on hers.

And then his phone rang on the bedside table, chiming with a unique ringtone that Morgan had never heard before.

He lifted his head, listened, frowning. “Damn.”

“What?”

He shook his head and rolled away from her, leaving the chaise to pick up his phone from the table near the bed. “Damn,” he muttered, reading the message. “She needs to talk to me before she returns to Athens.”

Morgan didn’t even need to ask who “she” was, knowing perfectly well it was Bronwyn. “Now?”

“She’s leaving soon. Tonight.”

“Surely she can wait a half hour?”

He didn’t answer immediately, simply rolled away, his towel falling off in the process. “I won’t be long.”

“You really have to go now?”

“I’ll be back in less than fifteen minutes.”

Morgan watched him walk, without a stitch of clothing, to the closet. Dressed, Drakon Xanthis was a handsome, sophisticated man. Naked, he was absolutely beautiful.

He was beautiful now, and her mouth dried, her heart hurting as he disappeared into the closet, his body tan, skin gleaming, his muscles taut. Honed. He had those big shoulders and broad chest and lean flat abs and long strong legs, and between those legs hung his thick shaft, impressive even now, when he wasn’t erect.