The Dimitrakos Proposition

by Lynne Graham

  There were many things Tabby could have said but she was fighting a dropped jaw and had already learned to think twice before she spoke her mind around Acheron. She clamped her lips firmly together and assumed that he was bored at the villa and that the evident appeal of a change of surroundings had persuaded him to act on impulse. Not only was he dragging Amber out of bed, but he was also forcing Tabby to travel when she was exhausted and in pain. Her lush mouth down-curved: he was being selfishly inconsiderate but she supposed that was normal behaviour for a male accustomed to thinking only of his own needs.

  The helicopter was very noisy and Tabby, who hadn’t eaten since lunchtime, was almost sick with hunger. She insisted on taking Amber from Melinda, though, and soothed the overtired baby herself. She was surprised when Acheron eased the drowsing child from her arms and settled her on his lap instead. Amber looked up at him, stuck her thumb back in her mouth and closed her eyes again, seemingly content with the exchange. Tabby must’ve dozed off at that point because she wakened confused by the bright light on her face and the jabs of pain from her ankle as Acheron carried her into a house.

  ‘How do you feel?’ he enquired again, stunning gaze sweeping her pale, taut face.

  ‘I’ll be fine—’

  ‘Don’t be a martyr—you look like death warmed over,’ he countered impatiently. ‘You’re going straight to bed, yineka mou. I’ve organised food as well.’

  A bed and a meal sounded very appealing to Tabby at that moment. He mounted a staircase and a faint breeze cooled her cheekbone. Her lashes swept up on a tall open window framed by pale fluttering draperies just as Acheron laid her down on a ginormous bed and began to carefully ease the bedding from beneath her. It struck her that for once he was being very kind and that set her teeth on edge.

  ‘Why are you being so nice to me all of a sudden?’ Tabby demanded abruptly.

  That single question said so much that Acheron didn’t want to hear just then that he almost groaned his frustration aloud. Leave it to Tabby, he thought ruefully. Leave it to Tabby to say what nobody else dared to say to Acheron Dimitrakos. He breathed in slowly. ‘You’re hurt.’

  ‘You don’t do rules and I don’t do pity,’ Tabby told him, tilting her chin in challenge.

  ‘You’re my wife.’

  ‘Not really.’

  ‘Enough my wife that I want to treat you like one,’ Acheron contradicted almost harshly.

  Tabby screened eyes blank with incomprehension and she was horribly tempted by an urge to slap him. He should have come with a dictionary or some sort of instruction manual that explained how he worked because once again she was all at sea as to what went on his complex and infuriating head.

  ‘I want to make you feel better,’ Acheron announced.

  ‘No pity parties here, please.’

  ‘I haven’t behaved very well,’ Acheron muttered in a harsh driven undertone. ‘I am trying to make amends.’

  ‘Pity’s pity,’ Tabby told him, unmoved by that argument.

  Acheron came down on the bed beside her. There was something wild about the glitter in his seething golden eyes as he gently knotted one hand in the fall of her golden hair and closed his mouth hungrily over hers. He sent a jolt of such savage hunger rocketing through her that she froze in sheer fright.

  ‘Does that feel like pity?’ he growled.

  Tabby made no comment because she could barely breathe. She wanted him to do it again and for longer and was only just able to keep her hands off that lean, powerful body so very close to hers for the first time in a week. One little touch and he made her feel like a sex addict ready to run scarily out of control. In sudden retreat, she dropped her head and then mercifully they were interrupted by the entrance of a woman carrying a tray.

  ‘You need to eat,’ Acheron told her unnecessarily.

  With his assistance, Tabby leant back against the pillows and lifted the knife and fork. She literally didn’t dare look at him again, couldn’t trust herself that far, knew that she couldn’t risk reliving that burning, driving sensation of sexual need in his presence. Hungry though she undoubtedly was, she had to force herself to eat because the sheer level of tension holding her taut was suppressing her appetite. She ate in silence while Acheron paced restively round the big room, constantly drawing her eyes until she remembered that she couldn’t afford to look, and in fact had to blank him out to stay in control. And what did that say about her? Was she really that weak that she couldn’t withstand him? This guy who had virtually ignored her for the past week? The same one who had slept with her and then backed off at supersonic speed? Shame engulfed her, increasing the exhaustion she had been fighting to contain.

  The tray was removed from her lap. Her lashes drooped, eyes so heavy she literally couldn’t hold them open any longer.

  ‘Get some sleep,’ Acheron urged, and for once she was in the mood to obey.

  * * *

  Tabby awoke with a piercing need to go to the bathroom, eyes flickering open on darkness and a strong feeling of disorientation. She struggled to sit up and gasped in dismay at the pain that shot through her ankle while she stretched out a wildly flailing hand in search of a bedside light. Mercifully she found the switch attached to a hanging wire, and light illuminated the bedroom a scant second before the male lying on a sofa against the wall leapt upright.

  ‘Ash?’ she whispered in disbelief. ‘What are you doing in here?’

  Acheron was bare-chested and barefoot, low-slung denim jeans clinging to his lean hips. Her startled gaze clung to the muscled expanse of his magnificent bronzed torso and then flicked guiltily higher to take in the dark stubble masking his lower jaw and the unnerving intensity of eyes that glittered like black diamonds in the low light. ‘I couldn’t leave you in here alone.’

  ‘Why not?’ Tabby queried, her face hotter than fire as she forced herself to swivel her hips and shift her good leg off the edge of the bed. ‘Why would you sleep on a sofa for my benefit?’

  ‘What on earth are you trying to do?’ Acheron demanded, striding across the room.

  ‘I need the bathroom,’ she breathed between gritted teeth, mortification rolling over her like a tidal wave.

  ‘You are so stubborn, koukla mou. Right now, you need help and I didn’t want to put a stranger in here with you,’ he admitted impatiently, pushing the walking stick resting against the bedside cabinet into her hand and then slowly pulling her upright to take advantage of its support. ‘Now go slow or you’ll hurt yourself.’

  But Tabby had already worked out that there was no way of moving her leg without her ankle hurting her and she simply clenched her teeth and got on with it, tears stinging her eyes as she hobbled clumsily towards the connecting door he had already opened for her benefit.

  Acheron groaned something in Greek and carefully scooped her up into his arms to carry her into the bathroom and gently settle her down on the stool by the vanity unit. ‘Pain’s always worse in the middle of the night. You’ll feel better tomorrow,’ he predicted. ‘Shout when you’re ready to go back to bed.’

  Reckoning that there would be two blue moons in the sky before she willingly asked for his help, Tabby studied her tousled reflection in the mirror in cringing horror. She was still wearing the make-up she had put on for dinner the night before and she had panda eyes, sleep creases on her cheek and hideously messy hair. How come he looked gorgeous in the middle of the night but she looked like the Bride of Dracula?

  She glanced down and fingered the skimpy nightdress she now wore and swallowed back a groan. Acheron must’ve undressed her. So what? He had already seen her naked, she reminded herself doggedly, so he had seen nothing new and it was very silly to be embarrassed about it. Levering herself upright, she took care of necessities and then made use of the facilities to clean herself up as best she could. Feeling considerably fresher but pale and stiff with th
e amount of pain her every movement had made her suffer, Tabby hobbled back out of the bathroom.

  Acheron was waiting to scoop her up and deposit her back on the bed.

  ‘I still don’t understand what you’re doing here with me,’ she said weakly, perspiration breaking out on her brow.

  ‘There’re only three bedrooms in the main house. I knew you wouldn’t want Amber staying away from you in the staff quarters and Melinda needed the third room,’ Acheron explained drily.

  ‘There’s only three bedrooms?’ Tabby remarked in amazement. ‘You really didn’t plan this move very well, did you?’

  Acheron dealt her a fulminating appraisal in seething silence. ‘It’s three in the morning...let’s talk about it tomorrow.’

  Tabby watched him move back towards the sofa and released her breath on a reluctant sigh. ‘Oh, for goodness’ sake, share the bed... It’s as big as a football pitch. I’m sure we can manage to avoid each other.’

  Acheron swung round, his surprise unfeigned, but he said nothing. He switched out the light, and she lay very still in the darkness, listening to the sound of his jeans coming off and trying very hard not to picture what he looked like without them. The sheet moved, the mattress depressed and she forced herself to relax. She was safe as houses with him, she told herself wryly. Acheron was powered by reason, not emotion, not passion. He knew they were a match made in hell.

  It was dawn by the time Tabby woke again. Soreness and stiffness assailed her with her first involuntary movement, and she screwed up her face in silent complaint. She turned her head only for her breath to hitch at the sight of Acheron lying asleep only inches away from her. His hair, rumpled into ebony curls, stood out in stark contrast to the white pillow case, his black lashes luxuriant fans that rimmed his strong cheekbones, his wilful passionate mouth full and relaxed. She couldn’t stop staring at him. The sheet was wrapped round his hips, the corrugated musculature of his bronzed chest and abdomen exposed as well as a long, powerful, hair-roughened thigh. The pure haunting beauty of his perfectly sculpted body grabbed her by the throat and shook her inside out while heat pooled in her pelvis. She wanted to touch him; she wanted to touch him so badly it hurt to be denied.

  His lashes swept up and he stretched slowly and languorously, long, taut muscles defined like ropes below his smooth brown skin. ‘Kalimera, yineka mou.’

  Tabby arched a brow. ‘Which means...?’

  ‘Good morning, wife of mine,’ Acheron translated with rich amusement lightening his dark eyes.

  ‘I’m not yours,’ Tabby hissed back faster than a striking rattler.

  A lean brown hand lifted and wound slowly and carefully into the tumbled fall of her blonde hair, his glittering dark golden eyes hot as boiling honey on her skin. ‘How else would you describe yourself? You married me and then you accepted my body into yours. Don’t you appreciate that that means that we legally consummated our union?’

  Seized by chagrin and confusion, Tabby stiffened. ‘I...I...’

  He covered her mouth with his, lingering to nibble teasingly at her full lower lip before moving on to taste her with explosive eroticism. A chemical reaction took place inside her, her body jerking in response while within seconds a giant mushroom of heated hunger and longing surged up inside her, blowing her best intentions to hell. Helpless in the grip of that sensual offensive, she kissed him back and his tongue drove deep between her lips with a raw sexual charge that roared through her like a rocket attack.

  ‘Ash?’ she mumbled when he freed her long enough to breathe again.

  He stared down at her with lancing impatience, every line of him rigid with tension. ‘To hell with your rules,’ he growled in a tone of decision, his broad chest vibrating against her swollen breasts. ‘I only play by my own.’

  Those words were still ringing in her ears when he slid his hands underneath her and lifted her slowly onto her side. ‘What are you doing?’ she gasped.

  ‘I’m making what we both need possible,’ Acheron rasped in her ear, his warm breath fanning her neck as he buried his mouth in the sensitive slope between neck and shoulder while his hands slid up from her waist to cup her achingly tender breasts. ‘As you’re in no condition to run away, shout loud if you want to say no.’

  In stark disconcertion her violet eyes opened to their fullest extent and locked onto the sofa he had occupied the night before. She had invited him into the bed in the first place. Had he assumed her body was included in the offer? Or was he just as entrapped as she was by the chemistry between them? Naturally that latter interpretation pleased her more but, in the midst of her pondering, long fingers plucked at the straining peaks of her breasts and actual thought became too much of a challenge.

  Acheron tasted the soft white skin of her throat and the sweet scent of her enclosed him, heightening his arousal to an almost unbearable extent. In need of release he pressed his throbbing erection against her bottom, and she gasped and leant back into him while he lifted her nightdress to caress the swollen bounty of her small, taut breasts, paying special attention to her plump pink nipples. ‘I love your breasts,’ he told her thickly. ‘They fit perfectly into my hands, moli mou.’

  Every tiny muscle straining as she trembled, Tabby looked down at the fingers, so dark against her paler skin, expertly caressing her. Sharp biting arrows of need were spearing down between her legs where her indescribably sensitive flesh was tingling. She shifted and a faint sound of discomfort was wrenched from her as she accidentally moved her ankle.

  ‘Lie still,’ Acheron urged. ‘You don’t need to do anything. Let me do all the work.’

  Her desire was already so strong that she wanted to scream, wanted to tell him what to do and to do it quickly. The shock of the thought and a vision of his reaction cooled her teeming thoughts. But she hadn’t known, hadn’t ever dreamt that a kiss and a little intimate touching could send her temperature shooting from zero to overload and she knew that she was finally understanding the very basic reason why he had become her first lover. He burned her up like a lightning strike, awakened a craving that overwhelmed her defences.

  His hand shimmied down over her thigh, flirting, teasing more intimate areas without delivering on the promise. She ached, she actually ached deep down inside where she felt hollow and desperate, her entire being locked to the playful passage of that provocative hand. Fingertips traced her hidden core, stroking nerve endings that were impossibly delicate. She dragged in a sustaining breath while he nibbled an enervating path down the side of her extended throat. ‘In a minute I’m going to kill you,’ she swore shakily.

  ‘No, you’re going to ask me to do it again.’

  ‘You really don’t suffer from low self-esteem,’ she noted even more unevenly, her breath catching in her convulsing throat as a fingertip brushed her clitoris, and flame leapt through her entire core.

  ‘Not between the sheets...no,’ Acheron agreed silkily.

  ‘You’ve been told you’re wonderful?’

  ‘Many times. I’m filthy rich. Telling me I’m rubbish in bed—even if it’s true—wouldn’t be profitable,’ he advanced with cynical cool.

  Consternation seized Tabby. ‘That’s awful—’

  ‘Awful,’ he mimicked, stroking the most sensitive spot on her whole body so that she jackknifed back against him with a startled yelp.

  ‘I don’t want your money,’ Tabby exclaimed helplessly. ‘I just want your body!’

  A stark little silence fell, and she squeezed her eyes tight shut in horror. I didn’t say that, I couldn’t possibly have said that!

  ‘I’ve got no objections to that goal,’ Acheron husked, biting at her ear lobe with erotic intent, ostensibly undeterred by her claim. ‘It’s earthy and honest...why not?’

  He touched her again and her mortification drowned in a sea of shivering response. She lay back against him, tiny muscl
es twitching, soothed by the heat and strength of him even as that amplified physical contact heightened her awareness. With immense delicacy he stroked the seam of her femininity and then slid inside where she was warm and wet and, oh, so needy. She quivered, pitched straight to a high of longing that she couldn’t quell or even control. He sank a finger inside her, and she jerked and gasped as he plunged slowly in and out, raising her temperature to boiling point, making her squirm and shift, forgetting even the twinges of pain in her ankle.

  ‘Hot, tight, ready,’ Acheron growled hungrily in her ear as she arched back into his lean, hard body, instinctively seeking the fulfilment that only he could give while he angled away from her to don a condom. ‘I’ve been fantasising about this for days.’

  ‘Days?’ she parroted in surprise as he lifted her undamaged leg to spread her open for him.

  ‘Every night since that first night, every day I saw you in that teeny tiny bikini, glyka mou,’ Acheron confided, tilting her forward, long fingers tightening their hold on her slender thigh as he entered her with a groan of intense masculine satisfaction.

  A muffled scream of pleasure was torn from Tabby’s throat as her body was forced to adjust to his size, her inner channel stretching to the brink of insane pleasure.

  ‘All right?’ Acheron murmured thickly.

  ‘Well, I wouldn’t want you to answer your phone right now!’ Tabby admitted shakily, her heart thundering, her blood racing, her whole body thrumming with sensation as he eased back and then slammed into her again, jolting her with wicked pleasure.

  ‘No boundaries!’ he ground out forcefully. ‘No boundaries between us!’

  She couldn’t think, couldn’t speak for the intensity of what he was making her feel. He tugged her head back and took her mouth with passionate, driving need and the taste and heat of him scorched her all the while the slow, sure thrust of his engorged shaft stimulated her senses to an unbearable peak of excitement. Her hips writhed. The pace quickened. The heat built. She was crying out, sobbing she knew not what when her wayward body finally clamped down convulsively on him and she soared over the edge in a frenzied crescendo of release that took her by storm.