The Greek Tycoon's Convenient Wife. Sharon Kendrick
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that she gasped, her eyes snapping open, and even in the shadow of the evening he could see they were dense and black with desire just as he could feel her barely contained shiver of delight.
‘Kyros! Stop it. We…we can’t—’
His hand stilled. Alice—refusing him?
‘We can’t…stay here.’
In the moonlight he smiled as he moved against her heated flesh. ‘No?’
Alice groaned—her hungry body calling out to her—but some last shred of sanity made her shake her head. Because how the hell would it look if someone found them locked in an intimate embrace? Did she think so little of herself that she could allow such an easy seduction? ‘No,’ she moaned. ‘There are people at the other end of the garden.’
In the darkness, his mouth curved into a hard smile. That did not sound like a refusal—more like a delaying tactic. He eased back from her a little, recognising the need to quieten down his aroused body or there was the very real fear that he would be unable to walk.
He stood up, and held his hand out to her. ‘Get up,’ he demanded unevenly. ‘We’re going back to your house.’
Alice steadied her ragged breathing. ‘But…what will people think?’
‘I don’t care what people think, Alice.’
Warning bells went off in her head at his arrogant statement, reminding her that she was risking getting hurt all over again.
‘Well, I do,’ she said.
‘Not enough to stop me,’ he taunted softly, his hands now cupping her silky bottom and bringing her hard up against the cradle of his desire. ‘Is it enough to stop you, Alice?’
Say no. Say it’s wrong. Too soon. That any respect he may have had for you will be destroyed by this illadvised passion. Say no!
‘No,’ she admitted tremblingly as she imagined him deep inside her.
He caught her fingers in his and began moving purposefully down the garden. Alice could hear chatter and music, the tinkling of crockery on china, and little shrieks of laughter as they passed. How perfectly normal it all sounded, she thought—with a sudden pang. While she was sneaking away like a thief in the night with a man who had already hurt her.
Was she crazy? Yes, very probably. But by now they had slipped unnoticed out of the side gate and she found herself wondering whether he made a habit of this as he led her confidently through the streets—as if she were the stranger in her home town.
They walked in a breathless kind of silence and when they reached her parents’ house, he tipped her face up. ‘Is your friend due to sleep over here tonight?’
She shook her head.
‘Good.’
How clinical he was, she thought—and how well thought out his line of questioning as he took all the known factors into account, a bit like some hot-shot lawyer. But Alice could guess at his overriding concern. That he didn’t want to wait and didn’t want to be disturbed. The tautness in his hard body was as tight as a stretched bow and the crackling tension between them was almost palpable.
He drifted his fingertips along her cheek—as if he was using the power of touch to dissolve any last, lingering doubts. And, oh, didn’t it work a treat? But Alice was past caring whether the gesture had been cynically manipulative or not. To be honest, she was past caring about anything except how much she ached to be in his arms and his bed once more.
‘K-Kyros,’ she said shakily, her tongue snaking out to moisten her parchment-dry lips.
‘Let’s get inside,’ he said roughly.
CHAPTER THREE
ONCE inside, Kyros took command—turning to where Alice stood in the shadows of the hall, the ticking of the grandfather clock muffled by the loud thunder of her heart. And then he said something low and harsh in Greek, and pulled her into his arms—and suddenly this was serious.
His lips were hard, expert, seeking—and Alice swayed with the great tide of emotion which was rising up inside her as she kissed him back with a passion which seemed to have been on hold for the last ten years—and how sad was that? But Alice didn’t care. The urgent touch of his lips felt so right. His body seemed to fit so perfectly as it moulded against hers. His hands slid the black satin dress up over her bottom, moving luxuriously over the lace of her panties, and as she gave a little cry he suddenly drew back, staring down into her widened eyes.
‘If we don’t move from here, I’m going to rip this dress off and do it to you right here on the floor of this hall,’ he ground out.
The graphic words startled her. These were no sweet nothings he was murmuring, she realised—more a cold-blooded declaration of sexual intent. But his hands were undoing all the harshness of his words, making her shiver with desire as his fingers collided with bare flesh.
‘Is that what you want, Alice? To do it here?’
If it had been her own place she suspected the answer would have been yes—because that would have been easier, to have let passion carry them along in its mindless blur. But it wasn’t—it belonged to her parents—and what if one of the neighbours suddenly decided to call round for whatever reason? Unlikely—but terrifying. ‘N-no,’ she breathed. ‘Not here.’
‘Where?’ he demanded, his mouth on hers.
‘Up-upstairs.’
‘Show me.’
As they climbed the stairs Alice realised that there was time to stop this madness. Even as she pushed open the door of her old bedroom—now transformed into the creamy comfort of a guest room—she knew there was still time. But the moment he had kicked the door shut and taken her into his arms again to smother her with hard, passionate kisses Alice knew it was too late.
Kyros moaned as her mouth opened beneath his and his desire shot up to an explosive level—but then she had always possessed the power to turn his blood to fire. He knew everything there was to know about a woman’s body. How to make her cry with pleasure and weep with joy. How to tease and retreat—to play the sophisticated games of the bedroom, which only increased the levels of mutual delight.
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