He laughed softly. ‘Relax, and it’ll happen.’
‘It won’t. I can’t...’ Ava gave a sob of frustration. There must be something wrong with her that made it impossible for her to reach an orgasm during sex.
She felt Giannis slip his hand between their joined bodies and then he did something magical with his fingers, while he continued his rhythmic thrusts, faster, faster...
It felt so good. The way he expertly moved his hand, as if he knew exactly how to give her the utmost pleasure. It felt unbelievably good and the pressure inside her was building, building to a crescendo. Suddenly she was there, suspended for timeless seconds on the edge of ecstasy before the wave crashed over her and swept her up in a maelstrom of intense pleasure that went on and on, pulsing, pounding through her, tearing a low cry from her throat.
Even when the ripples of her orgasm started to fade, he continued to move inside her with an urgency that took her breath away. He gripped her hips and reared over her, his head thrown back so that the cords on his neck stood out. Incredibly, Ava climaxed for a second time, swift and sharp, as Giannis gave a final thrust and emitted a savage groan as he pressed his face into her neck while great shudders racked his body.
In the afterglow, a sense of peace enfolded her and she lay quite still, not wanting him to move away, not ready to face the reality of what had just happened. Gradually the thunderous beat of his heart slowed. She loved the feel of his big, strong body lying lax on top of her and of his arms around her, holding her close. Her limbs felt heavy and the lingering ripples of her orgasm triggered delicious tingles deep in her pelvis.
So that was what poets wrote sonnets about, she thought, smiling to herself. There wasn’t something wrong with her, as Craig had suggested. Sex with Giannis had been mind-blowing and had proved that her body was capable of experiencing the most intense passion. From Giannis’s reaction he had enjoyed having sex with her. She wasn’t frigid. She was a responsive, sexually confident woman.
He lifted his head at last and looked down at her, his dark eyes unfathomable, making Ava realise once again that even though they had just shared the most intimate act that two people could experience, she did not know him. Oh, she’d gleaned a few facts about him on the Internet. Mainly about his business success or which model or actress he’d dated, although there was actually very little information about him. She knew nothing about the real Giannis Gekas—his family, his interests, even mundane things such as what kind of food he liked. There was an endless list of unknowns—all the tiny snippets of information that people at the beginning of a conventional relationship would find out about each other.
All she knew was that they had been drawn together by a combustible sexual chemistry, and when she became aware of him hardening once more while he was still buried deep inside her, nothing else mattered.
‘You are irresistible, omorfiá mou,’ he murmured. ‘I want you again.’
Excitement coiled through her and she wrapped her legs around his back to draw him deeper inside her. He groaned. ‘You would tempt a saint. But first I need to change the condom. Don’t go away.’ He dropped a brief but utterly sensual kiss on her mouth—a promise of further delights to follow—before he lifted himself off her and strode into the bathroom.
Ava watched him, her gaze clinging to his broad shoulders before sliding lower to the taut curves of his buttocks, and molten heat pooled between her thighs. Everything about tonight felt unreal, as if she was in the middle of an erotic dream that she did not want to end.
CHAPTER THREE
GIANNIS STEPPED OUT of the shower cubicle and blotted the moisture from his skin before he knotted a towel around his hips and walked into the bedroom. He glanced at the bed and saw that Ava was still fast asleep. Her honey-blonde hair spilled across the black silk pillows and her hand was tucked under her cheek. She looked young and unexpectedly innocent but looks were deceptive and there had been no hint of the ingénue about her last night.
The memory of her standing in front of him in stiletto heels, sheer black stockings and a minuscule pair of knickers had a predictable effect on his body, and he was tempted to whip off his towel and wake her for morning sex. But there wasn’t time, and he felt no more than a fleeting regret as he turned away from the bed, striding over to the wardrobe to select a shirt to wear with his suit. While he dressed, he thought about his schedule for the day.
He had meetings in Paris in the afternoon and a social function to attend in the evening. But first he planned to drive to his house in Hertfordshire that he had recently purchased, to inspect the renovations that had been completed and pay the workmen a bonus. It would be useful to have a permanent base in the UK, but another reason he had bought Milton Grange was because the grounds included a particularly fine garden. Giannis hoped that his mother might like to visit the house in the summer, and perhaps tending to the roses would lift her spirits, which had been low lately. Although there was nothing new about that, he thought heavily.
He had spent most of his adult life trying to make his mother happy. His conscience insisted that caring for her was a small penance and could never atone for his terrible lapse of judgement that had resulted in the death of his father. He despised himself even more because he found his mother difficult. Even his sister had suggested that their mitera’s relentless misery was intended to make him feel guilty.
Giannis sighed as his thoughts switched from his mother to another thorn in his side. Ever since Stefanos Markou had announced that he intended to sell Markou Shipping and retire from business, Giannis had tried to persuade the old man to sell his ships to him. The Markou fleet of six small cargo ships would be an ideal addition to The Gekas Experience.
TGE already operated ten vessels offering luxurious cruises around the Mediterranean and the Caribbean. River cruising was becoming increasingly popular and Giannis wanted to expand the company and make TGE the world leader in this emerging tourist market. The Markou fleet of ships would need major refurbishments to turn them into high-end luxury river cruisers, but it was cheaper to upgrade existing ships than to commission a new fleet of vessels.
To Giannis’s intense frustration, Stefanos had rejected his very generous financial offer. That was to say—Stefanos had not actually turned him down but he kept adding new conditions before he would sell. Giannis had already agreed to employ the entire Markou Shipping workforce and retrain the staff so that they could work on his cruise ships. Far more problematic was Stefanos’s insistence that he wanted to sell his company to a married man.
‘Markou Shipping’s ethos is family first,’ Stefanos had told Giannis. ‘Many of the current staff are second or even third generation employees and they share the company’s values of loyalty and propriety. How do you think they would feel if I sold the company to you—a notorious playboy who regards women only as pleasurable diversions? But if you were to choose a wife and settle down it would show that you believe in the high ideals which my great-grandfather, who started Markou Shipping one hundred years ago, held dear.’
Giannis had no desire to marry, but a rival potential buyer had shown interest in purchasing the Markou fleet of vessels. Norwegian businessman Anders Tromska was married and the father of two children. Stefanos approved of Tromska for being a dedicated family man who had never been involved in any kind of scandal or photographed by the paparazzi with a different blonde on his arm every week.
Giannis was prepared to increase his financial offer for the fleet of ships. But for once he had discovered that money could not solve a problem. It seemed that the only way he might persuade Stefanos to sell to him was if he magically conjured himself a wife.
He slipped his arms into his jacket and pushed the Markou problem to the back of his mind for now, turning his thoughts instead to a happier situation. His beloved Nerissa—a classic motor yacht which had been his father’s first boat—had been repaired and restored after it had been v
andalised.
Giannis had kept the boat moored at St Katharine Dock and he stayed on it whenever he visited London. He had been furious when he’d heard that a gang of youths had boarded the boat one night and held a party. A fire had somehow started in the main cabin and quickly ripped through the boat. It turned out that a cleaner who worked for the valeting company employed to maintain the boat had stolen the keys and taken his thuggish friends aboard Nerissa. The gang had escaped before the police arrived, apart from the cleaner, who had been arrested and charged with criminal damage.
The manager of the boat valeting company had been deeply apologetic. ‘The youth who took the keys to your boat has a police record for various petty crimes. His social worker persuaded me to give him a job. To be honest he seemed like a nice lad, and his sister who accompanied him to his interview was anxious for me to give him a chance. But they say that bad blood will out in the end,’ the manager had said sagely.
In Giannis’s opinion, the cleaner who he held responsible for wrecking his boat deserved to be locked up in jail and the keys thrown away. Nerissa was special to him and he had wonderful memories of idyllic days spent on her with his father. Now that the boat had been repaired he had arranged for her to be taken back to Greece, to his home on the island of Spetses.
The sound of movement from the bed compelled Giannis to turn his head and look across the room. Ava rolled onto her back and the sheet slipped down to reveal one perfect round breast, creamy pale against the black silk sheet and adorned with a dusky pink nipple that Giannis had delighted in tormenting with his mouth the previous night.
One night with the golden-haired temptress was not enough to sate his desire for her, he acknowledged. His arousal was uncomfortably hard beneath his close-fitting trousers. He would take her phone number and call her on his next trip to London, he decided. Maybe he would instruct his PA to clear his diary for a few days so that he could fly up to Scotland with Ava. His imagination ran riot as he pictured them staying at a castle and having hot sex in front of a blazing log fire. He had heard that it often rained in the Highlands, and they would have to pass the time somehow.
But that was for the future. Right now he had a busy day ahead of him. He glanced at his watch and strode over to the bed to wake Sleeping Beauty. He had asked for his car to be brought to the front of the hotel ready for him to drive to Hertfordshire and he was keen to be on his way. But his conscience—which was frankly underused—insisted on this occasion that he could not simply disappear and leave Ava asleep.
‘Good morning.’ He leaned over the bed and watched her long eyelashes flutter and settle back on her cheeks. ‘It’s time to get up, angel-face.’ Impatience edged into his voice, and he put his hand on her shoulder to give her a gentle shake.
Long hazel-coloured lashes swept upwards. Her grey eyes were dazed with sleep before she blinked and focused on his face.
‘Oh. My. God.’ Her appalled expression was almost comical. ‘I thought you were a dream.’
Giannis grinned. ‘I aim to please. You were pretty amazing last night too.’ His gaze lingered on her bare breast and she made a choked sound as she dragged the sheet up to her chin. ‘But it is now morning,’ he told her. ‘Nine o’clock, to be precise. And incredibly tempting though you are, I have a busy schedule and you need to get dressed.’
‘Oh, my God,’ Ava said again. She sat up and pushed her tangled blonde hair out of her eyes. The faint quiver of her lower lip made her seem oddly vulnerable. Giannis was surprised by the inexplicable urge that came over him to hold her in his arms and comfort her. But why did he think she needed to be comforted when he was certain she had enjoyed the passionate night they had spent together as much as he had? Just as pertinently, what qualified him to offer comfort to anyone? He destroyed things, and Ava, with her curiously innocent air, would do well to stay away from him, he reminded himself.
He was used to being instantly obeyed and he frowned when, instead of jumping out of bed, Ava slumped back against the pillows and covered her face with her hands. Giannis struggled to hide his irritation. ‘You were not so shy last night,’ he drawled.
‘Last night was a mistake.’ Her voice was muffled behind her hands. ‘I must have had too much to drink.’
His jaw hardened. ‘You drank a small glass of wine during dinner. Don’t try to make out that you were unaware of what you were doing when you undressed in front of me, or suggest that I took advantage of you. When I asked if you were sure you wanted to have sex, you more or less begged me to take you.’
She jerked upright and dropped her hands away from her face, shaking her head so that her hair swirled around her shoulders like a curtain of gold silk. ‘I did not beg.’ There was outrage in her voice but she continued in a low tone, ‘I know what I did. I was responsible for my behaviour and I’m not blaming you. But I shouldn’t have slept with you. What I mean is that I should have spoken to you...asked you... Oh, this is so awkward.’ Her eyes widened even more. ‘Did you say that it’s nine o’clock? Oh, my God.’
She scrambled off the bed and tugged the sheet around her, but not before Giannis had glimpsed her naked body. At some point during the night he had removed her stockings using his teeth to tug them down her legs. He watched Ava struggle to put her bra on while she clutched the sheet to her like a security blanket. ‘Don’t you think it’s a little late for modesty?’ he said sardonically.
She picked up her torn thong from the floor and looked as though she was about to burst into tears. ‘I have to go,’ she said wildly. ‘Sam will be going mad wondering where I am. I was supposed to have an important conversation with you last night.’
‘About what?’
She bit her lip. ‘It’s a delicate matter.’
Giannis counted to ten beneath his breath. ‘I’m in a hurry, so whatever it is you want to say—for God’s sake get on with it.’
This couldn’t be happening, Ava thought frantically. In a minute she would wake up from a nightmare. But in the cold light of morning she could not fool herself that having wild sex with Giannis last night had been a dream. She felt a sensation like wet cement congealing in the pit of her stomach with the knowledge that, as a result of her irresponsible behaviour, she had lost her chance to plead with Giannis to drop the charges against her brother. She felt sick with shame and guilt.
The sound of a familiar ringtone cut through the tense atmosphere and she scrabbled in her handbag to retrieve her phone. Her heart lurched when she saw that it was her brother calling.
‘Sam, I’ve been...unavoidably delayed.’ She dared not look at Giannis. ‘You will have to ring for a taxi to take you to the courthouse, and I’ll meet you there. You’ll have to hurry—’ she felt her anxiety rise ‘—your case is due to be heard by the magistrate in half an hour, and you mustn’t be late.’
‘The magistrate is ill,’ Sam said when Ava paused for breath. ‘I’ve just heard that the court cases today have been postponed.’
Ava heard relief in her brother’s voice and she felt a rush of emotion. Sam hadn’t said much in the weeks leading up to his court hearing, but she knew he was scared at the prospect of being sent to prison. ‘Thank goodness.’ She breathed out a heavy sigh. ‘I don’t mean it’s good that the magistrate is ill, of course, but it gives us a bit more time.’
‘Time to do what?’ her brother said flatly. ‘My case has only been delayed for a few days and it’s still likely that I’ll be sent to a YOI.’
Ava knew that young offender institutions tended to be grim places and she understood why Sam was scared. He might be eighteen but he would always be her kid brother. ‘Not necessarily.’ She tried to sound optimistic. ‘I can’t talk now. I’ll see you at home later.’
She replaced her phone in her bag, and her eyes widened as she watched Giannis open his briefcase and throw some documents on top of a pile of bank notes. He closed the briefcase but Ava had a sudden flashbac
k to when she had been a little girl, and had seen her father counting piles of bank notes on the kitchen table.
‘Payday,’ he’d told her when she had asked him about the money.
‘You must be a good businessman to earn so much money, Daddy,’ Ava had said trustingly. She had idolised her father.
Terry had winked at her. ‘Oh, I’m an expert, honey-bunch. I’m going to use this money to buy a house in Cyprus. What do you think of that?’
‘Where’s Cyprus?’
‘It’s near to Greece. The villa I’m buying is next to the beach, and it has a big swimming pool so you will be able to teach your baby brother to swim when he’s older.’
‘Why aren’t we going to live in England any more?’
Her father had given her an odd smile. ‘It’s too hot for me to live here.’ It had been the middle of winter at the time and Ava had felt confused by her father’s reply. But years later she had learned that Terry McKay had moved his family abroad after he’d received a tip-off that he was about to be arrested on suspicion of carrying out several armed raids on jewellery shops in London.
She dragged her mind from the past as she caught sight of her reflection in the full-length mirror. She looked like a tart with her just-got-out-of-bed hair and panda eyes where her mascara had smudged. Her lips were fuller and redder than usual, and remembering how Giannis had covered her mouth with his and kissed her senseless made her feel hot all over. She could not have a serious conversation with him about her brother while she was naked and draped in a silk sheet.
As if he had read her thoughts, Giannis walked over to the wardrobe and took out her evening gown. ‘Your dress has been cleaned, but I guessed you would not want to be seen leaving the hotel this morning wearing a ball gown so I ordered you something more appropriate to wear.’ He handed her a bag with the name of a well-known design house emblazoned on it. ‘I’ll leave you to get dressed. Please hurry,’ he said curtly before he strode out of the bedroom.
Wed for His Secret Heir Page 4
