The Greek's One-Night Heir. Natalie Anderson
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couldn’t be the first woman to fall completely beneath his spell but she was quite calm about that. She felt too pleased to have seen him again and realise that he was—amazingly—attracted to her too.
‘Do you do this all the time?’ she asked, too fascinated to think before asking.
‘Not as often as you’re thinking.’
She wasn’t sure she was thinking any more—she was still floating on that gravitational pull right towards him. ‘I don’t do this, ever.’
‘Never ever?’
She shrugged as embarrassment heated her skin. She wasn’t going to tell him he was with a woman no other man had ever chased. A woman crippled by an inferiority complex bigger than Jupiter. What did it matter what she’d done or not done before? Right now there was this and it was too powerful to ignore. She wanted more of his touch—of that connection and elation when he’d kissed her. More than seduction, more than madness, it was an ache unlike anything she’d known burning low in her belly. Its searing intensity rapidly escalating until it seemed to singe her inside and out, leaving her breathless because of this urgent, unstoppable need to touch.
‘I should offer you a drink or something.’ He ran his hand through his hair and huffed out a breath as if he too were struggling to recover.
It seemed imperative to feel again that need that mirrored her own. ‘I’m happy with just the “or something”,’ she mumbled shyly.
He looked startled for a second, then smiled. He moved towards her—graceful, powerful, careful. ‘I wanted this from the moment I saw you.’
She jerked her head, negating the compliment because she was unable to believe him. ‘You don’t have to tell me…nice things.’
Something flickered in his expression. ‘You’re not used to people telling you the truth? You’re beautiful, Leah. Robbed me of my self-control in seconds.’
She closed her eyes. She didn’t want to listen—didn’t want words to destroy her belief in this moment. But then she sensed he was close. She could feel his heat and his tension.
‘If I don’t have to tell you,’ he whispered softly right in her ear, ‘then I’ll show you.’
A paralysing desire took hold at the sound of his determined promise. She half expected a furious onslaught of passion—she would have welcomed that too. But it wasn’t.
It was slow, delicious torture. Another slow kiss—easing her back into his arms. Every touch not only a tease, but a celebration of her. Making her breathless, making her move closer, making her want something she couldn’t articulate. As she trembled, he picked her up and carried her through to the bedroom and set her down on the big bed.
She shrugged out of the cardigan and then he took over, unbuttoning then peeling the blouse from her body. He paused to gaze at the white bra beneath, then undid it, pulling away the little lace cups that covered her small breasts, and he groaned. Not judging her but enjoying her. Not disappointed, but delighted. There was nothing to be had here but pleasure. She felt a reckless safety in his arms. No one had kissed her like this. His touch silenced anxious thought and she let herself be carried away by the basic instinct of her body—caving in to the demand to shift closer, to move with him and torment him back. He unzipped her trousers and slid them down, lifting her feet to slip her shoes from them at the same time.
‘Scarlet silk.’ His hot laugh tickled against her skin as he roved back up her body, lingering over her hips. ‘That I didn’t expect.’
‘What did you expect? White cotton granny pants and a chastity belt or something?’
He laughed again and bent to kiss her upper thigh, nibbling on the edge of the silk as he went.
Leah moaned. Truth was, this was the first pair of sexy undies she’d bought herself. Even then she couldn’t get it right and wear a matching bra. But she hadn’t wanted her bra to be visible beneath her blouse, so she’d gone with white.
‘It confirms a theory I’ve been developing about you,’ he murmured.
‘And what’s that?’ She could hardly string the words together.
‘That you’re more sensual than you appear…you’ve been hiding your true scarlet self.’
‘You’re reading too much into it—they were the first I grabbed from the drawer.’
‘Because you have a drawer full of scarlet silk?’
She couldn’t reply. Where was he kissing her…slowly inching along the waistband of those scarlet panties? Secrets and desire swamped her and she was shy about the fact that he’d discovered something she’d barely recognised within herself. She’d bought the one pair because it had been all she could afford. It had taken so long to choose which one; she’d wanted them all. Her secret enjoyment of them wasn’t so secret now. She shivered.
‘You “don’t do this, ever”, Leah?’ He paused and looked back up to her eyes.
She didn’t want to lie to him. She didn’t want to hold anything back, but it was hard to push the answer past the lump in her throat. ‘No.’
As he nodded it occurred to her that he already knew the answer. He’d been able to tell?
A slither of mortification chilled her skin. ‘Does that bother you?’
‘No.’ He lifted himself up to lie beside her and searched her features. ‘But are you sure you want me to be your first one-night stand?’
The reminder that that was all he was offering didn’t bother her. But his blunt question revealed he hadn’t realised the entire truth about her. Where he meant one night, she meant ever at all.
She nodded, her voice stolen by shyness and the fear that if she told the truth he’d stop. The last thing she wanted was for him to stop.
He kissed her mouth. His hand teased one breast, then the other, then rubbed firmly down her stomach, slipping beneath the waistband of those scarlet panties. At her shocked gasp, his kisses deepened. But he didn’t stop his hot exploration—his fingers delving lower, stroking where she was most sensitive, discovering for himself her most secret place.
With every lash of his tongue, of his fingertips, the last of those knots holding her in reserve loosened until she was totally undone. Reduced to nothing but heat and light, pliable in his hands, she didn’t just let him touch all he liked, she hungered for it—writhing like an animal. She arched, seeking more caresses, parting her lips to invite another deep kiss—her tongue tangling with his, her hand clawing his shoulder in an aching invitation to come closer.
‘Yes,’ he praised her in a gravelly voice as she moaned in desperation.
His fingers slid, his thumb strummed and his mouth sealed over hers again—stoking her until she went beyond burning and tumbled into total meltdown.
Time stopped as her hips bucked and she rode his hand. In those lost moments, there was nothing else in her world but him, in the escalating rhythm and depth of plundering touch. She tautened for one last infinite moment of torment and then his attention finally tore her apart. She screamed as ecstasy hit in a wave that smashed her to pieces.
Theo rubbed his forefinger back and forth along the waistband of her panties, lightly toying with her while she recovered from the most beautiful orgasm he’d had the pleasure of giving. He ached to strip her free of them and plunge into her hot, tight body. But her comment that her panties ought to be white replayed in his mind. White was the colour of innocence. And she’d joked about a chastity belt? He’d been too far gone for that to register properly. He glanced up at her face and recognised the gleam of resurging desire in her eyes. But there was shyness as well and the slight wariness—of a novice?
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