The Greek's Pregnant Bride

by Michelle Smart

  The official photos were taken in the grounds before the chapel, and then the entire wedding party headed back to the hotel for the proper celebrations to begin.

  * * *

  The terraced roof of the hotel had been transformed. An abundance of balloons and beautiful flowers covered the entire perimeter, the Parthenon clear in the distance, but close enough that from certain aspects it felt as if you could reach out and touch it.

  The day had turned into something magical.

  All Alessandra could think was how much work and effort Christian had put into making this a special day for them. Sure, he’d outsourced it all, but he’d been the one to do the outsourcing.

  All she’d done was buy her dress. And lingerie...

  Crying in her brother’s arms had had the effect of clearing her head.

  Rocco had urged her to abandon the whole thing. He and Olivia would take care of her.

  Alessandra didn’t need taking care of—her baby did. Christian was her baby’s father. They belonged in each other’s lives.

  She’d washed her face and reapplied her make-up and then, when she’d looked back in the mirror, the truth had been reflected back at her in startling clarity.

  She was committing her life to Christian and their baby. It was time to embrace it for all their sakes.

  Done with taking pictures of her husband and their guests—it truly was a photographer’s dream here—she put her camera back into its case and sat back down at the top table.

  Staring at him now—holding court with Zayed, Stefan and Stefan’s date, Clio, on the edge of the dance floor—her heart clenched, packing into a tight little ball.

  Christian must have felt her gaze upon him for he met her eyes, raising his glass of champagne to her.

  She raised her lemonade back, her skin dancing as if his gaze had physically touched her.

  He said something to his friends which made them all laugh. It pained her that Rocco refused to join them, keeping his distance in the far corner of the room with Olivia and an earnest A-list Hollywood superstar. Her brother had spelled out in no uncertain terms that he was there to do his duty and nothing else.

  Her suspicions about Christian’s trip to New York had been correct—he had gone there with an ulterior motive. But her fears had been wildly off the mark. He hadn’t gone to meet up with a secret woman. He’d gone in an attempt to make her brother see sense and attend their wedding.

  He’d turned up at their New York home and told her brother in no uncertain terms that Alessandra needed him. When he’d left, Olivia had taken up the cause, essentially bullying Rocco into attending.

  Knowing Christian had done that for her...è stato incredibile.

  She only wished Rocco would see what an amazing thing it was too. To her knowledge, he hadn’t exchanged a word with Christian all day.

  Whatever his reasons, and however great his reluctance, she was glad he’d come. More than glad. She hoped with all her heart that one day he would come to accept them and accept that their marriage was the right thing for all of them. He might infuriate her but he was her brother and she loved him.

  Christian weaved his way through the dancing guests and took his seat at the top table beside her. ‘How are you feeling?’ he asked, leaning back into his chair.

  ‘Perfetto.’ She smiled. ‘This has all been amazing, grazie mille.’

  He slung an arm around the back of her chair. ‘It is my pleasure.’

  The sound of rotor blades in full motion caught their attention.

  ‘Paparazzi,’ he spat, getting back to his feet and kicking his chair back. Immediately he pulled his phone from his pocket and dialled a number, speaking into it with a low voice packed full of menace.

  ‘I had arranged that no helicopter fly within a mile of the hotel today,’ he explained tightly when he finished his call, his face taut. ‘I will not have our wedding day turned into a circus.’

  She shrugged. ‘They’re tenacious. It was to be expected.’

  ‘They’re like locusts.’ He laid his palms on the table, his face stark with anger.

  Not wanting all the good feeling ruined, she raised a hand to his face and palmed his cheek. ‘Thank you.’

  The blue in his eyes darkened, his frame stilling. ‘For what?’

  ‘For trying to keep them away from me.’

  His nostrils flared a touch. He didn’t answer, simply stared at her as if trying to peer into her mind.

  She gazed back, drinking him in, the heat inside her—so constant when with him—bubbling beneath her...

  And then he dipped his head and covered her mouth with his, holding it there, not moving, just breathing into her, warm champagne-scented air filling her senses until he gently slid his mouth across her cheek and brushed his lips against her ear. ‘Soon, agapi mou, I will do more than just kiss you.’

  Her insides melted. Her heart racing at a gallop, she was about to grab his hand and beg him to whisk her away to somewhere private when Zayed joined them, announcing his presence by slapping Christian hard on the back.

  ‘Come on, newlyweds, it is time for the Kalamatianos,’ he said, referring to the traditional wedding dance adored by all Greeks. Over his shoulder, Mikolaj and Tanya grinned and waved, already tapping their feet in anticipation.

  She was so glad she’d gone behind his back and invited them. It hadn’t sat well with her, knowing he would have no one from his childhood there. Knowing Christian was happy she had done so lightened her further.

  It made her feel all warm and fuzzy inside, thinking they had gone behind each other’s back to bring someone important to their big day.

  Soon she was on her feet with Christian in the centre of the dance floor, each holding an end of a scarf that had been thrust at them. With traditional Greek music playing, Zayed and Stefan chivvied everyone up to form a circle around them, the guests linking hands and, following Mikolaj and the other Greek guests’ example, swirling around them like a circling snake, shouts of, ‘Opa!’ ringing out.

  Alessandra had the time of her life. When the Kalamatianos was over, everyone, including the bride and groom, stayed on the dance floor. They danced together, slow songs, fast songs, their hands entwined, their eyes only for each other.

  She wanted the wedding and all the good feelings it evoked in her to last forever, to hold on to this moment for as long as she could. Contrarily, she wanted it to end now, wanted the sensuous promise ringing from Christian’s eyes to become reality.

  Soon...

  Soon it would be time to retire to his suite and begin their newly married life in a manner that sent heat surging through her just to think about it.

  * * *

  Christian opened the door of the suite and, keeping hold of Alessandra’s hand, closed it behind them.

  ‘Someone’s been busy,’ he observed, burrowing his face into the nape of her neck. At long last, he was free to touch her and taste her and do all the things he’d wanted to do for so long the ache in his groin had become a permanent part of him.

  His suite—their suite, now all of Alessandra’s possessions had been moved in while their celebrations had been going on—had been decorated. Flowers were artfully arranged in vases, rose petals had been scattered over the bed and a bottle of champagne sat in an ice bucket next to two champagne flutes.

  ‘Clichéd but very romantic,’ she said, twisting round to face him.

  All the dancing had left her cheeks flushed and her eyes alive with pleasure.

  He wanted those eyes glowing with pleasure for a different reason.

  Gripping her hip, he pulled her to him and snaked his arm around her waist.

  He gazed down into those striking eyes and those moreish lips. His to taste.

  She was his to taste.

  As he bent his
head to claim her mouth, she darted gracefully out of his clasp, laughing softly. ‘Not yet.’

  ‘You’re making me wait?’ he said, his words coming out with an animalistic growl.

  ‘I’m going to freshen up. Remember, anticipation makes fulfilment taste all the sweeter.’ She sashayed to one of the bathrooms, flashed him a smile full of promise and locked the door behind her.

  * * *

  Alessandra applied a touch more lipstick then tightened the sash of her silk white robe.

  Who needed alcohol?

  Desire pulsed through her, making her pulses race uncontrollably.

  She hadn’t expected that a ring on her finger and a signed piece of paper could make her feel so different but it did.

  Christian was the only man she’d ever truly wanted.

  She remembered the first time she’d met him, when she’d been twelve and Rocco had brought the Brat Pack to Lake Como for a break. How young and naïve she’d been, still believing in love and romance. She’d taken one look at Adonis and her heart had skipped into her mouth.

  He’d hardly noticed her existence.

  Looking back with the benefit of hindsight on her ill-fated tryst with Javier, she could see it was the flattery she’d responded to, not him. She’d swallowed all his lies because she’d been flattered a man, not an immature boy, was showing an interest in her.

  With Christian, it was the man himself she responded to.

  She dabbed some perfume behind her ear and onto her wrists and left the privacy of the bathroom. It was time to see her husband as his wife.

  CHAPTER TEN

  WHEN ALESSANDRA EMERGED from the bathroom and closed the door softly behind her, the only sound Christian could hear was his own heartbeat. Drumming. Thundering in his ears.

  He’d stripped naked, shedding his clothes in front of the mirror, staring closely at his reflection.

  He didn’t know what it could be but he felt different.

  He looked the same. The desire he felt for his beautiful bride still burned deep inside him.

  But something had changed.

  Now he sat in the huge bed, leant back against the headboard, the bed sheets draped across his lap, a dim light glowing. And she was here with him, her dress removed, only a white robe covering her beautiful figure.

  Slowly she stepped to him until she reached his side.

  ‘Take your robe off.’ He could hear the thickness in the timbre of his voice.

  Her hands trembled, but a knowing smile pulled at her lips. She tugged at the sash of her robe and parted it, letting it drop to the floor.

  Christian couldn’t have torn his gaze away if he’d wanted to.

  He didn’t want to.

  He wanted to capture this moment so he could replay it forever.

  Theos but she was more beautiful than he remembered, the white of her lacy lingerie contrasting against the golden hue of her skin.

  Her breasts were swollen, the bra pushing them up to display her cleavage, only just hiding the dusky nipples he remembered so well.

  Sitting upright, he extended a hand to grip onto her curved hip, sliding a finger under the strap of her suspender belt.

  He ran his other hand up the soft swell of her belly, only slightly thickened since he’d last seen her unclothed.

  She dropped a hand onto his shoulder, a cloud of her sultry scent releasing and filling his senses. He’d never known a scent like it, so perfectly matching its owner, a sweet yet musky fragrance, with depth.

  He traced his hand back down her belly and clasped hold of her other hip, tugging her to him.

  Inhaling her scent deeply into his lungs, he pressed a kiss into the curve of her neck, felt her quiver.

  The ache in his groin, that constant state of affairs whenever he was with her, magnified by a thousand, his entire body coming alive to her sweet touch and even sweeter taste.

  Using gentle manipulation, he pulled her onto the bed facing him, so she straddled his still-covered lap.

  Her eyes darkened and swirled, arousal and desire burning strongly.

  The first time they’d made love he’d plunged into her without a thought. His shock at discovering she was a virgin had been masked by concern that he’d hurt her. Her breath had hitched, a tiny mew escaping her throat. He’d held her tightly, stroking her hair, her body, raining kisses over her face until he’d felt her relax, seen her pupils dilate...

  She’d been so responsive to everything he’d done to her, so eager to give in return.

  She’d been a revelation.

  And now he got to experience and taste her all over again.

  But this time there would be no pain. Only pleasure.

  Wrapping an arm around her and cradling the back of her head with his other hand, he pulled her flush against him and slanted his mouth over the soft, plump lips he’d spent the past two months dreaming about.

  She sighed into him and rested her hands on his shoulders, her nails digging into him as her lips parted to allow his tongue to sweep into her warmth.

  He stroked her back, up and down, exploring the silky skin anew, then down her sides to the top of her stockings.

  She broke the kiss, nuzzling her mouth against his jaw and down into his neck, her hair tickling him.

  ‘You taste divine,’ she murmured, the first words she’d uttered since she’d left the bathroom.

  Her compliment made his chest heave.

  He speared her hair and tugged it back gently so he could look into her eyes. ‘You are divine.’

  A small, almost shy, smile spread across her face, and she leaned forward to kiss him, deeply, passionately, her hands crawling up to his scalp and holding on to it.

  He found the clasp of her bra and undid it. She released her hold on him, enabling him to pull the straps down her arms and discard the bra on the floor beside him.

  When they’d made love the first time, he’d been enraptured with her breasts, their size, their taste, the way his hands could cup them perfectly, everything about them. Pregnancy had swollen them. He didn’t know if it was a trick of the light but her dusky nipples seemed darker than he remembered, contrasting against the paleness of her breasts.

  He was the only person in the world who knew Alessandra’s breasts were the palest part of her body.

  It was because his child was growing inside her that these small, subtle changes were taking place.

  Using his hands to lift her a touch, he dipped his head and captured one of those beautiful, dusky nipples in his mouth.

  Alessandra moaned and ran her fingers through his hair, arching her back to thrust her chest forward and into him.

  He flattened a palm against the small of her back to steady her, his free hand roaming until he found the clasp of her suspenders. Before he released it he stroked the exposed flesh above the stockings. Her skin felt better than any material ever could.

  When he played with the clasp he was shocked to find himself all thumbs, the deftness he’d acquired over the years gone. It was as if he’d never tried to undo a suspender belt before.

  Spearing her hair again, he kissed her, filling his senses with her sultry, sweet taste, driving all thoughts from his mind.

  Frustrated at the suspender belt, he tugged at a stocking and felt the material rip in his fingers. He grabbed the material of the other and did the same, then clasped her bottom and leaned forward, using his strength to lay her flat on her back. The movement caused the bed sheet to fall from his lap, freeing his erection which brushed against her thigh, sending deep pulsations firing through his blood, his loins, everywhere.

  He sat back to gaze at her, noting everything, from her short, shallow breaths to the jutting of her erect nipples.

  Unable to resist, he kissed her again, hard. Ales
sandra’s arms looped around his neck, her legs lifting to hook around him, clasping him to her.

  ‘Not yet,’ he murmured, kneeling upright.

  She pouted and raised herself onto her elbows. Her breaths came in shallow pants.

  ‘Soon,’ he promised, leaning forward to kiss her neck and push her flat again.

  A sound like a purr came from her as he kissed his way down her chest and belly and slipped a hand round her back to undo the clasp at the back of her suspender belt. Discarding it, he flattened a hand over her thigh and caught the top of the ripped stocking. Slowly, he pulled it down, past her knee, over her calf and down to the delicate ankle.

  ‘I’ve dreamed of you doing that,’ she said, her husky voice almost breathless.

  She’d dreamt of him...?

  In response, he leaned down to press a kiss to her now bare foot, then followed the trail he’d just made with his hands with his tongue, darting licks and kisses all the way up to her inner thigh and up to the very heart of her. Pressing his mouth onto her knickers, he inhaled deeply, the scent of her heat almost making him dizzy with desire.

  Checking himself, he gritted his teeth before gripping hold of her remaining stocking and slowly sliding it off.

  Now she was naked save for her lacy knickers. He took a moment to stare at her, taking every inch of her in.

  She was perfect.

  She was his.

  The look on her face was something to be savoured, a knowing yet shy quirk of the lips.

  She levered herself up until she knelt before him, face to face.

  ‘My turn,’ she whispered, her eyes sparkling.

  For such a slight woman she had a hidden strength, able, with a push of her hand, to shove him onto his back.

  She laughed softly, taking hold of his wrists and pulling them up and over his head.

  This had to count as the single most erotic moment of his life: Alessa straddling him, pinning him down, her swollen breasts brushing against his face. Every time he made to capture one in his mouth, she would move just out of reach.

  Her teasing was deliberate, as was the way she straddled him, positioning herself on his erection. Every time she moved out of the reach of his mouth her crotch rubbed the length of his erection, the material of her knickers preventing any penetration.