The two female guests were clearly on a mission to get her to change her mind and inwardly Keeley began to fume. She knew they were just trying to be kind, but she didn’t want their kindness. It made her feel patronised but, even worse, it made her feel vulnerable. They thought they were giving her a treat but in reality they were pushing her closer to Ariston and that was a place she didn’t want to be. But she could hardly give them the reason for her resistance, could she? She couldn’t really tell them she was worried she would end up in bed with her boss! And in the end, opposition was pointless because it was five against one and there was no way she could get out of it.
You’re having dinner with them, that’s all, she reminded herself as she stood beneath the cool jets of the shower later that afternoon. All she had to do was put on a borrowed dress and try to be pleasant. She could leave whenever she wanted. She didn’t have to do anything she didn’t want to do.
Which was how she found herself walking towards the starlit terrace that evening, wearing the only dress of Megan’s which fitted her and which was the last type of outfit she would normally have worn. It was too delicate. Too feminine. Too...revealing. In soft, blush pink, the low-cut bodice showcased her breasts and the silky fabric clung to her hips in precisely the way she didn’t want it to. And she wasn’t blind. Or stupid. She saw the way Ariston looked at her when she walked out onto the candlelit terrace. Saw the instinctive narrowing of his eyes, which set off an answering tightening in her breasts.
Her throat was so dry that she knocked back half a glass of champagne too quickly and it went straight to her head. It soothed her frazzled nerves but it also had the unwanted side effect of softening her reaction to her Greek boss, because naturally she found herself seated next to him. She told herself she wasn’t going to be affected by him. That he was a callous manipulator who had no regard for her feelings. But somehow her thoughts weren’t making it to her body. Her body didn’t seem to be behaving itself at all.
She could feel it in the heavy rush of blood to her breasts and in her restlessness whenever Ariston subjected her to that cool stare, which he seemed to do far more than was necessary. And if that weren’t bad enough, she was having difficulty adjusting to this unexpected social outing. She hadn’t been to a dinner party this fancy for a long time and she’d never really done so on her own terms before. She’d only ever been invited because of her mother, and this was different. She was no longer watching out of the corner of her eye in case her mum did something outrageous, anxiously wondering if she could get her home without making a fool of herself. This time people seemed to be interested in her and she didn’t want them to be. What could she say about herself—other than that she’d done a series of menial jobs, because they were the only ones she could get after a fractured education which had led to zero qualifications?
She spent the evening blocking questions—something she’d learnt to do over the years—so that whenever she was asked something personal, she turned it around and moved the subject swiftly onto something else. She had become highly accomplished in the art of evasion but tonight it seemed to be having entirely the wrong effect. Was her elusiveness the reason why Santino began to monopolise her for the second part of the evening, while Rachel’s pinched face seemed to indicate she was regretting her impetuous decision to have her join them? Keeley felt like standing up and announcing that she wasn’t remotely interested in the Italian businessman—that there was only one man around the table who had her attention and she was having to fight very hard not to be mesmerised by him. Because tonight Ariston looked amazing—very traditional and heart-stoppingly masculine. His white shirt was unbuttoned at the neck revealing a silky triangle of olive skin, and his tapered dark trousers emphasised his long legs and the powerful shafts of his thighs.
And all the while he was watching her, his blue gaze burning into her so intently that the breath caught in her throat and she was barely able to eat. Course after course of delicious food was placed in front of her, but Keeley could do little more than push it around her plate. Were the other guests amused by her lack of appetite—not realising the cause of it—especially as she seemed almost to be bursting out of Megan’s dress? Did they think she was one of those women who never ate in public but enjoyed secret binges with the biscuit packet whenever she was alone?
‘Enjoying yourself, Keeley?’ asked Ariston softly.
‘Very much,’ she said, not caring if he heard the lie in her voice. Because what else could she say? That she could feel ripples of awareness whispering over her skin whenever he looked at her? That she found his hard and rugged profile the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen and she wanted nothing more than to just sit and stare at it?
She broke the mould of her Cinderella evening by excusing herself long before midnight. As soon as the clock struck eleven she stood up and politely thanked them for a lovely dinner. Somehow she maintained her high-headed posture as she walked away from the terrace but as soon as she was out of sight, she began to run. Along the path leading to the beach she ran, straight past her cottage and down to the shoreline, glad she was wearing her practical sandals underneath the long dress. And glad too that the waves were pounding against the sand so that the heavy sound drummed out the beating of her thudding heart. Picking up the hem of her dress, she stood back, careful not to let the seawater touch the delicate fabric as she stared out at the moon-dappled water.
She remembered how she’d felt when the supermarket had sacked her just before she’d flown to Lasia, when she’d been swamped by the sense of having no real place in the world. She could feel it now—because she hadn’t really been part of that glamorous table, had she? She’d been the outsider who had been dressed up for the occasion in a stranger’s dress. Had Ariston known how alienated she’d felt—or was he too busy reeling her in with his potent sexuality to care? Didn’t he realise that what was probably just a game to him meant so much more to someone like her who didn’t have his tight circle of friends, or wealth, to fall back on?
She felt stupid tears stinging her eyes and wondered if they had been caused by self-pity. Because if they were she was going to have to lose them—and quickly. Count your blessings, she told herself fiercely as she rubbed her eyes with the back of her hand. Just be glad you’ve been strong enough to resist someone who could never be anything more than a one-night stand.
But as she turned to walk back towards her cottage she saw a figure walking towards her—a man she recognised in a heartbeat, even from this distance. How could she fail to recognise him when his image was burned so powerfully onto her mind that she could picture him at the slightest provocation? His shadowy figure was powerful as he moved and the glint of moonlight in his eyes and the paleness of his silk shirt captured her imagination. She felt her skin prickle with instinctive excitement, which was quickly followed by a cold wash of dismay as he approached, because she’d tried to do the right thing. She’d done everything in her power to stay away from him. So why the hell was he here?
‘Ariston,’ she said steadily. ‘What are you doing here?’
‘I was worried about you. You left dinner so abruptly and I watched as you took the path to your cottage.’ His eyes narrowed as they swept over her. ‘Only no light came on.’
‘You were spying on me?’
‘Not really. I’m your employer.’ His voice sounded deep above the soft lapping of the waves. ‘I was merely concerned for your welfare.’
Her eyes met his. ‘Is that so?’
There was a pause. ‘Yes. No,’ he negated and suddenly his voice had grown harsh. ‘Actually, I don’t know. I don’t know what the hell it is. All I know is that I can’t seem to stop thinking about you.’
Keeley saw the sudden change in him. The tension which stiffened his body, which she suspected mirrored the tension in her own. Just as she knew what was about to happen from the look on his face—a raw look of hunger
which set off an answering need somewhere deep inside her.
‘Ariston,’ she whispered, but it sounded more like a prayer than a protest as he pulled her into his arms, into the warmth of his embrace, and she let him—ignoring the objections which were crowding her mind. And the moment he touched her, she was lost.
He drove his mouth down on hers and she heard his little moan of triumph as she kissed him back. Her lips opened and he slid his tongue inside her mouth to deepen the kiss. She swayed against him, her fingernails digging into his chest through the fine silk of his shirt, and he circled his hips against hers in a movement which was unashamedly urgent. And now his hand was slipping inside the bodice of her dress so he could cup her braless breast with his fingers and she let him do that, too. How could she stop him when she wanted it so much?
His groan was muffled as he explored each diamond-tipped nipple and she could feel her panties growing moist. Was he going to do it to her now? Here? Push her down onto the soft sand without giving her time to object? Yes. She would welcome that. She didn’t want anything to destroy the mood or the moment, because this had been a long time coming. Eight years, to be precise. Eight long and arid years when her body had felt as if it were made of cardboard, rather than responsive flesh and blood. Keeley swallowed. She didn’t want time to have second thoughts about what was about to happen—she wanted to just go with the flow and be spontaneous. A rush of excitement flooded through her until she remembered what she was wearing and, unlocking her lips from his, she pulled away from him. ‘The dress!’ she stumbled.
He stared down at her uncomprehendingly. ‘The dress?’ he echoed dazedly.
‘It’s not mine, remember? I don’t want to...to mark it.’
‘Of course. You borrowed the dress.’ Something hardened in his eyes as his gaze swept over her and his smile was tinged with a flicker of triumph as he picked her up and walked across the sand towards the cottage, before kicking open the door.
CHAPTER FIVE
ONCE INSIDE, ARISTON carried Keeley straight upstairs in a display of masculine dominance she found intoxicating. As he brushed hungry kisses over her neck and lips she was on such a delirious high of pleasure that she was barely aware of him lifting her arms above her head and peeling off her borrowed dress. Until suddenly she was standing in front of him wearing nothing but a pair of tiny thong panties. Half naked in the silver moonlight, she should have felt shy, but the look blazing from Ariston’s eyes made her feel anything but shy. Tilting her chin, she felt the silky movement of her hair as it swayed against her bare back and a sudden sense of liberation rippled through her as she met his slow and appreciative smile.
‘Theos mou, but you are magnificent,’ he said, his body tensing as he cupped one of her breasts like a market trader calculating the weight of a watermelon.
And even that rather brutal gesture excited her. Every single thing about him was exciting right now—each nerve ending in her body feeling as if a layer of skin had been peeled away, leaving her raw and aching. His voice dipped approvingly as his gaze focussed on her tiny panties. ‘It seems that beneath the often unexceptional clothes you favour, you dress in order to please your man.’ He glittered her a smile. ‘And I approve.’
His arrogance was breathtaking and Keeley wanted to tell him that his words were inaccurate on so many counts. That the tiny briefs were the only thing she could have worn under such a flimsy gown without getting a visible panty line and usually she wore a heavy-duty bra to contain her overripe breasts. But he was playing with her nipples again and it was such an unbearably sweet sensation that she didn’t have the desire—or the strength—to break the fragile mood with stumbled words of explanation. Because during that short journey from beach to bedroom she’d known there was to be no turning back. It didn’t seem to matter if it was right or wrong, it just seemed inevitable. She was going to let Ariston Kavakos make love to her tonight and nothing was going to stop her.
She lifted her gaze to his, watching as he began to unbutton his shirt, his eyes not leaving her face as he bared his hair-roughened chest.
‘Play with your breasts,’ he ordered softly. ‘Touch yourself.’
The words should have shocked her but they didn’t—maybe because he’d managed to turn them into an irresistible and silky command. Should she tell him that her sexual experience was laughably lacking and she wasn’t sure how good she would be? But if she was going to do this, she needed to do it without any hang-ups. Tentatively, she spread her palms over the aching mounds and began to circle them as he’d demanded, and the weird thing was that once she’d banished her inhibitions, she started to feel sexy. She imagined it was Ariston’s hands tracing erotic movements over her aroused flesh. She wriggled impatiently and her heavy eyelids fluttered to a close.
‘No.’ Another soft order rang out in the moonlit bedroom. ‘Don’t close your eyes. I want you to look at me, Keeley. I want to see your expression when I make you come. And believe me, I am going to make you come, koukla mou. Over and over and over again.’
Keeley’s eyes widened because his words were so graphic. So explicit. She got the distinct impression he was deliberately demonstrating control over her. Was that the way he liked it? To be totally in charge? To tell her what to do and show her who was boss? Her heart started to race because he was naked now, his erection so pale and proud amid the dark curls—and even the daunting dimensions of that weren’t enough to intimidate her. He walked over to where she stood, removing her hands from her breasts and replacing them with his lips, bending his head to kiss each nipple in turn, the tip of his tongue working expertly on the puckered flesh until she let out a small moan of pleasure.
‘I like to hear you moan,’ he said unsteadily. ‘I promise I’m going to make you moan all night.’
‘Are you?’
‘Neh.’ He tangled his fingers in the spill of her hair, anchoring her head so that she couldn’t look anywhere except at him. ‘Do you know how many times I have imagined you like this, Keeley? Standing naked in the moonlight like some kind of goddess?’
Goddess? Was he crazy? A shelf-stacker from Super Save who was carrying too much weight? A wave of hysteria bubbled up inside her. She wanted to tell him not to say things like that but the truth was she liked it. She liked the way it made her feel. And why shouldn’t she feel like a goddess for once when his words were painting pictures in her imagination which were increasing her desire? Because this was probably the way he did it. His method. Sweet-talking her into submission with his practised lines. Telling her the things she longed to hear, even if they weren’t true. Presumably this was what men and women did all the time and it didn’t mean a thing. Sex didn’t mean a thing. That had been one thing her mother had taught her.
‘Ariston,’ she managed, through bone-dry lips.
‘Have you dreamed about me too?’ he murmured.
She supposed it would destroy the mood if she admitted that all the dreams she’d had about him were deeply unsettling. But why destroy the mood with an admission which no longer seemed relevant?
‘Maybe,’ she admitted.
He let out a low laugh of pleasure as he skimmed his hand over her tiny thong. ‘I love that you blow so hot and cold,’ he said. ‘Did you learn long ago how to keep a man guessing?
Keeley bit her lip. His impression of her was a million miles away from the reality, but why puncture the bubble now? He obviously thought she was some kind of man-magnet and surely it would be a waste of time to try to convince him otherwise. Because she wasn’t expecting any future in this. She knew that only a fool would expect a relationship with a man like Ariston, but her heart still clenched as she acknowledged just how fleeting it was going to be. And if his fantasies about her were turning him on, why not play the game? Why not scrabble up what little knowledge she had and work with it?
‘Do you always waste so much time talking?’
she purred.
Her softly spoken tease made the atmosphere change. She could sense a new tension in him as he picked her up and carried her over to the bed, not bothering to pull back the bedsheet as he laid her on it. His eyes were unfathomable as he stared down at her.
‘Forgive me for not recognising your...’ he slid his hand between her legs, pushing aside the panel of her panties with a murmur of acknowledgment as he flicked his finger over her slick, wet heat ‘...impatience.’
Keeley swallowed because now his finger was working with a purpose and she could feel the heat inside her building. She wanted him to kiss her again but the only area he seemed interested in kissing was her torso and then her belly and then...then... She sucked in a shocked breath as he pulled down her panties and moved his head between her legs so that she could feel the tickle of his thick hair brushing against her thighs. Her body was tensed for what was going to happen next but nothing on earth could have prepared her for that first sweet lick. She jerked on the bed and tried to wriggle away from the almost unendurable pleasure which was spiralling up inside her, but he was holding her hips so she couldn’t move. And so she lay there helplessly—a willing prisoner of the Greek tycoon as layer upon layer of pleasure built to such a level of intensity that when it broke it felt like a swollen river bursting its banks and she screamed out his name.
As the spasms slowly ebbed away she felt a delicious warmth seeping through her body and opened her eyes to find him leaning over her, a trace of amusement curving the edges of his lips.
‘Mmm...’ he said softly. ‘For a woman who blows so hot and cold, I didn’t expect you to be quite so vocal. Are you always so sweetly enthusiastic when you come, Keeley—or are you trying to massage my ego by acting like that was the first orgasm you’ve ever had?’
The Pregnant Kavakos Bride Page 6
