‘Oh, yes,’ she simpered, with an attempt at false sincerity. ‘I’ve spent the last six years desperately waiting for you to reappear in my life. I’ve been missing you and dreaming about you and praying you’d turn up and blackmail me into a loveless marriage. This is pretty much the high point of my life, actually.’
‘And we haven’t even slept together yet,’ he said, in a voice that was honey and dynamite.
Her breath caught in her throat. She spun away from him, her cheeks flushed.
‘What is it, agape? Suddenly you are shy? It is our wedding night.’
She lifted a hand to her throat and lightly rubbed her skin. ‘I... Of course not.’ She squared her shoulders. Hadn’t she been dreaming about this for as long as she’d known him?’
‘Relax.’ His hands on her shoulders were firm. He spun her in the circle of his arms so that they were facing one another, his warmth offering some comfort to her. ‘You are shaking like a leaf.’
Tell him the truth!
She fluttered her eyes closed, her lashes dark circles against her pale cheeks.
‘You are my wife.’ He pressed a finger under her chin, lifting her face to his. His eyes were troubled, tormented. ‘Are you...afraid of me?’
It was so uncharacteristic of him to show doubt that she raced to reassure him. ‘Of course I’m not.’ She shook her head, inhaling a deep breath that flooded her system with his spicy scent. ‘I’m afraid of myself, and of what I want right now.’
He nodded, silently imploring her to continue.
‘You hate my father. I think you might even hate me.’ She lifted a finger to his lips to stop him from speaking. ‘But I don’t hate you.’ Her eyes were enormous, loaded with fear and desire. ‘I don’t hate you...’
Her finger, initially placed against his mouth to silence him, dragged slowly across his lower lip. Her eyes followed its progress as if mesmerised.
She knew he was going to kiss her. The intent was in every line of his body. If she’d wanted to she could have stepped away. She could have asked for more time. Instead she lifted herself up on tiptoe, crushing her mouth to his.
In that bittersweet moment all Marnie needed was to right one of the biggest wrongs of her past: she wanted Nikos and, damn it, she was finally going to have him.
To hell with the consequences. They’d be waiting for her afterwards.
CHAPTER FOUR
HER BODY FLASHED like flame when his mouth crushed down on hers with the kind of intensity that spoke of long-held desire. She was powerless to swim against the tide of need: powerless and unwilling.
Her feminine heart was hot and wet, slick with moisture and need. Unfamiliar but instinct-driven urges were controlling her body. Her hands pushed under his shirt, seeking skin and warmth. She traced her fingertips up his hair-roughened chest, splaying her fingers wide. She felt the beating of his heart beneath her touch; it was as frantic as her own.
His body weight pushed her downwards—not to the bed but to the floor, to her knees. He knelt with her, kissing her, his tongue clashing fiercely with hers as his hands pulled through her hair then pushed at her head, holding her against his mouth. She groaned into him, marking their kiss with the desperation that was scrawling a painful tattoo across her being—inking her as his in a way that would never be erased.
He pulled at her as his body pushed at hers until she fell back onto the carpet. His weight on top of her was divine. She curved her hands to his back, digging her nails into his warm skin as she felt the power of his arousal for herself. Hard and firm through their layers of clothing, A bodily ache was spreading through her. She lifted her hips, silently begging him for more. To mark her once and for all.
‘Nikos!’ She cried his name into the room and he groaned in response. ‘Please!’ She dug her hands inside his jeans, cupping the naked curve of his arse, pressing him against her and grinding herself intimately against his masculinity.
He laughed throatily. ‘You want this, huh?’
He kissed her again—hard, fiercely, possessively—and then roamed his lips lower, encircling one of her erect nipples through the fabric of her dress and her bra. Even with such obstacles in the way the warmth and pressure of his mouth sent sharp arrows of need spiralling within her.
‘Yes!’ she hissed, arching her back, desperately needing more. ‘Please, please...’
‘In time.’
He smiled, running his mouth lower, over the fabric of her dress, until he reached the apex of her thighs. He skimmed lower, to the hem of the dress, and finally pushed it upwards, so that only a flimsy scrap of lace stood between him and her most intimate flesh.
Her cheeks were pink, her eyes fevered. Even when he wanted to go quickly he took his time, removing her underpants, sliding them down her soft, smooth legs and discarding them to one side. He let his hands dance patterns along her thighs, revelling in the way she quivered beneath his touch as her body responded instantly to him.
His fingers worshipped at her crease, teasing her, exploring her, aching for her. He was more gentle than he’d known he could be, perhaps afraid that she might regret her decision at any moment. That after years of waiting this was, after all, not to be.
Greek words, whispered hoarsely, filled the air. Words that swirled around her, wrapping her in magic and myth. She didn’t have a clue what he was saying, but she loved the sound of his native language.
When he slid a finger into her core she bucked hard, writhing at the intimate touch. Even back then, when they’d been fevered and passionate, he hadn’t passed this threshold. His invasion was completely, utterly unprecedented.
Sharp, hot barbs of pleasure drove through her body, into her mind, weakening every earthly thought before it could be imagined. He moved slowly, curiously, watching her face as he stroked her sensitive flesh, learning what made her almost incandescent with desire before pulling out of her.
She gasped, the withdrawal of his touch an unbearable pain she could not withstand. But he didn’t leave her for long before dropping his lips to her opening. His tongue was warm, but she was more so. Her body was on fire...his mouth seemed to kiss flame into her.
It had been a long time since Marnie had felt anything like this. She was completely unprepared for the insanity that his ministrations would bring. She was digging her nails into the carpet at her sides now, her knees lifted towards the ceiling as her toes curled into the ground and her whole body shook and quivered.
The orgasm was intense. She screamed as it saturated her being in long, luxuriant waves.
Sweat beaded her brow; heat painted her cheeks pink. Her throat, her arms—she was burning up. Her breath was loud in the room as she panted, satiated passion making her lungs work overtime.
Before she could drift down from the clouds that had absorbed her into their heavenly orbit Nikos was straddling her, his arousal pressed against her tingling core.
Marnie stared up at him, and everything in her world was perfect.
He studied her as his hands worked the buttons of his shirt, and she was powerless to look away. Her tongue darted out, licking her lower lip, moistening it hungrily.
His smile was sexy as sin. She groaned, impatient for more. As he pushed at his shirt her trembling fingers unfastened his belt and pulled it from his jeans. She cast it across the room, wincing apologetically when it hit the wall loudly. He didn’t react.
His shirt was unbuttoned, his chest exposed to her greedy eyes, and she stared and she touched and she felt, tracing his muscles, circling his nipples and filling with pride when he sucked in a raspy breath. He rotated his hips, taking back the upper hand, making her weak with the promise of what was to come.
She pushed at his shirt, chasing it down his arms, catching the fingers of one hand as she passed, lifting it to her lips and kissing him. It was a tender moment in the
midst of passion. Their eyes locked and the past was all around them, threatening to suck them into the vortex of what had been.
‘It might have cost me a small fortune, but finally you are going to be mine.’
His eyes glittered with dark anger, and the moment was swallowed up by cruelty as though it had never been.
Marnie bit down on her lip, trying not to react, trying not to let the pain sour what they were sharing.
She didn’t have long to absorb his words, to turn them over in her mind. He shifted his body weight so that he could kick his jeans and boxers off. He was naked. Gloriously, wonderfully naked. She stared at him, her mind disappearing completely at the sight of Nikos Kyriazis. Her husband: the definition of tall, dark and sexy.
She groaned, dropping her hand to her womanhood, her fingers lightly grazing her flesh. His chest heaved as he sucked in a breath, his eyes sparking with hers. He stood over her, incapable of looking anywhere but at her hand and incapable of moving.
Until something snapped—and a desperate need to finally possess her cracked through him.
‘You’re on the pill.’
It was a statement, not a question. As though it hadn’t occurred to him in earnest that she might not be.
Her cheeks flushed pink as she nodded. It had been the first thing she’d done after signing the pre-nuptial agreement. It had been all she could do to prepare for this moment, for him.
‘I am safe.’
He straddled her, almost trapping her hand, but she snaked it higher. Tentatively, nervously, as though she had no right, she touched his length. He jerked instantly in her palm. She smiled a feminine, feline smile of innate power.
‘You?’
‘Me...?’ He was long and smooth and so, so hard.
He laughed throatily. ‘You’ve been tested?’
‘Oh.’ She hadn’t been but, having never shared her body with another, she supposed it was the same thing. ‘I’m safe, yes.’
He kissed her mouth, squashing her hand, his flesh against her stomach. ‘Good. Because I want to feel you, agape. Really feel you.’
He jerked out of her grip, bringing his tip to her opening, teasing her with his nearness before pulling away. His hands pushed her dress higher, so that he could lift her breasts out of her bra, rub his palms over her flesh. He pushed the dress roughly over her body, the fabric grazing against her over-sensitised skin, pushed it over her face. She shifted upwards so that he could lift it and toss it. Her bra was next.
She opened her mouth, knowing she didn’t want to surprise him with her virginity. She had no sexual experience, but even she thought it was somehow not good etiquette to spring that on someone.
But his mouth took hers, making speech impossible, driving rational thought from her brain once more. She tried to cling on to her conviction, to the knowledge that she should speak the truth to Nikos, but it was like chasing a piece of shell in eggwhite.
It slipped out of her mind. Only the physical remained.
His hands were insistent on her breasts, his thumb and forefinger teasing her nipples, rolling them, before his mouth dragged down her throat to take a peach areola into his mouth. His tongue lashed it and she groaned, felt pleasure building to another inevitable crescendo.
Her heart hammered against her ribs, so hard and fast she could hear the pounding of it in her ears.
She lifted her legs, wrapping them around his waist, pulling him closer. He groaned, his stubble-roughened chin like sandpaper on her soft flesh as he moved his mouth to her other breast, delighting it with the same treatment. His tongue lashed her, chasing invisible circles around the erect peak until she could bear it no longer.
‘Nikos!’ she cried out, tightening her grip around his waist. ‘Please, please now...’
He laughed, but it was a sound without humour. ‘I thought we’d at least get to bed,’ he said ruefully, bringing his tip closer.
There was no fear for Marnie. Despite her innocence, and his impressive size, she knew that this coming together was somehow destined. She had waited a long time for him, and she wasn’t about to let something as silly as fear or concern take the shine off the moment.
Still... That explanation she owed him...the warning...
‘Nikos, I need to tell you—’
‘No.’ He pinned her with his gaze as he lifted himself up on his arms so that he could stare into her eyes. ‘No more explanations. No more words. Not now.’
‘But—’
‘This is not the time for conversation.’
She might have argued with him. After all, she had a strong sense that it was an important thing to share. But before she could say another word he parted her legs, pressing them back onto the carpet, splaying them wide, and thrust into her.
Not gently, nor slowly—why would he?
They were at a fever pitch of desire and he had no reason to suspect that everything they were doing was new and therefore held the potential for pain.
Her eyes squeezed shut as he slammed past the invisible barrier of her innocence, discarding it as swiftly and easily as he had her bra. He swore, the harsh sound jarring her nerves, then swapped to Greek and released a litany of words in his own tongue.
The pain, which had been sharp and searing, was quick to vanish. Like a receding shoreline it disappeared, leaving only the surrender to pleasure in its wake. She moaned as her muscles stretched to welcome him, squeezing his length, gripping him at her core.
He swore again and then shifted, moving gently now, slowly, his eyes on her face, watching for any sign of discomfort. There was none. She began to moan as he stoked her fires. His lips claimed hers, his tongue duelling with hers in time with each delicious thrust until she was about to explode. She curled her toes into the carpet and cried out, the sound muffled by his mouth.
She was incapable of controlling the sensation of release. It burst from her through every pore, every nerve ending. It flew from her body like a bubble being released underwater. It burst, spilling her pleasure across the room in an effervescence of cries and hard breathing.
She arched her back in an ancient step in the dance of sensuality. He gripped her hips, holding her there, his fingers digging into her flesh. He pressed his forehead to hers, their sweat mingling.
He didn’t let her catch her breath before he was torturing her anew. Nerve endings already vibrating at an almost unbearable frequency began to quake and quiver. She groaned as another orgasm, bigger and scarier, chased the other away. This time, though, when she cried out into the room, he chased after her, his own voice combining with hers as pleasure saturated their surroundings.
It was a perfect moment.
Marnie caught the pearl of memory—the way he felt, smelled, tasted—and wrapped it deep into the recesses of her mind, knowing she would want to visit this feeling again and again and again.
He lifted up from her, and the absence of his weight was a pain she hadn’t been prepared for. He pulled away, removing himself from her heart and standing in one swift movement. He paced away, gloriously naked, and for the briefest moment Marnie thought he was actually going to stalk out of the room without a word!
Incensed, she got to her feet, wincing as muscles that had never been tested began to groan in complaint. The sound of running water heaped fuel onto the fire of her anger. He was actually going to shower straight away? Hell, she had no point of reference, but Marnie would have put money on that being an absolutely hurtful thing to do.
The door she had initially thought was a wardrobe must conceal an en-suite bathroom.
The shower was running when she stepped into the tiled room, but Nikos was not behind the glass. He stood, naked, his hands braced on the vanity unit, his head bent. She couldn’t see his expression in the mirror, but tension seemed to emanate from his strong frame.
It arrested her in her tracks.
Fear that she’d somehow got something wrong swirled through her.
She cleared her throat, uncertain what she wanted him to say but knowing she needed to hear something. Some form of reassurance or kindness.
He lifted his head, his eyes spearing hers in the mirror’s reflection. His face was strained, his expression otherwise unreadable. He scanned her face, seeming to shake himself out of his own reverie, then turned to look at her.
‘Did I hurt you?’
It was so far from what she’d expected him to say that relief whooshed through her. She shook her head wordlessly.
He held a hand out, inviting her to join him. She placed her smaller hand in his palm, feeling as if it was symbolic of so much more, and took a step closer. A small line had formed between his brows; he was scowling. Thinking. Deep in analysis.
‘I did not expect...’ he said, shaking his head again.
He tugged her lightly, pulling her to his body. His hands ran the length of her back gently, carefully.
‘Here.’ He swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing visibly as he tried to gain a perspective on this turn of events. He guided her into the shower without breaking his contact with her.
He had one of those enormous ceiling shower heads; warm water doused her the minute she stepped in and she made a little yelp of surprise. Her dark hair was plastered to her face. But once she became accustomed to it the feeling of warmth on her skin was beautiful.
She watched as Nikos took a soft sponge from the shelf and poured shower gel on it. His eyes clung to hers.
‘I do not understand,’ he said finally, bringing the sponge to her shoulders and soaping her slowly.
The shower gel frothed against her skin. It smelled of lime and vanilla.
‘I’m sorry,’ Marnie said, then wished she could take the words of contrition back. She bit down on her lower lip. ‘Not that I think I did anything wrong,’ she hastened to correct. ‘Only that I probably should have warned you.’
Bought for the Billionaire's Revenge Page 6
