The Greek's Bought Bride

‘I don’t deny it,’ he said, unabashed. ‘But at least you can’t accuse me of being dishonest.’

But wasn’t there a part of Tamsyn which wished he had been? A previously unknown side of herself which longed for him to tell her that it had been wonderful and she was wonderful, and from now on she was going to be his girlfriend.

Had she taken complete leave of her senses?

She needed to face the facts, like she’d always done. She’d just had sex, that was all. It might not have been the smartest move to chose Xan Constantinides as her first lover but she wasn’t going to deny how superb he’d been. And what she was not going to do was to regret it. Didn’t she have enough regrets already, without adding one more to the list? Couldn’t she take pleasure from the most amazing thing which had ever happened to her, without carrying around a whole shedload of guilt?

She shifted her weight again and the slippery golden sheet slithered away to her breast and suddenly he was saying something in thick and urgent Greek before pulling her hungrily into his arms. Maybe Tamsyn should have been daunted by the newly massive erection she felt pressing against her belly but she wasn’t—mainly because she was remembering what had just happened. And she wanted it to happen all over again.

Eagerly she raised her face to search for his kiss, feeling a shiver of excitement rippling uncontrollably through her body as the Greek billionaire reached blindly for a second condom.

CHAPTER FIVE

TAMSYN HAD HEARD plenty about the ‘walk of shame’ but she’d never experienced it before. The furtive walk from a man’s bedroom back to your own, wearing last night’s clothes and praying that nobody would notice you. But how on earth was she going to manage that when she was wearing full evening dress?

Tamsyn quickly realised it was a naïve and futile hope. Not only did she pass countless servants silently scurrying through the sunlit corridors—she even had the misfortune to encounter a large group of wedding guests who were clearly being given an early-morning guided tour by one of the Sheikh’s assistants. It would have been almost comical to see their reaction to her sudden appearance, if it had been happening to anyone other than her.

The guide’s voice faded away and everyone’s mouths fell open as a barefooted Tamsyn rounded the corner, wearing a now crumpled grey evening dress and dangling her silver high-heeled shoes from one hand, while her other tightly grasped a pair of priceless diamond earrings and a matching choker. The guide seemed to recover himself—maybe he recognised her as the Sheikh’s new sister-in-law—because he cleared his throat and gave a strangled kind of smile.

‘You are lost, mistress?’

Tamsyn gave a thin smile. Yes, she was lost—but only in the emotional sense of the word, and once again wondered what on earth had possessed her to indulge in a long night of sex with a man she instinctively sensed was dangerous.

You know why. Because you couldn’t stop yourself. Because the moment he touched you, you went up in flames.

Ignoring the knowing side glances of the men and the hostile glare of the women in the group, Tamsyn gave a determined shake of her head, making her unbrushed curls fly around her shoulders like angry red corkscrews. ‘I’m just on my way back to my room,’ she said cheerily. ‘It seemed a pity not to get up early and watch the sun rise over the desert.’

They obviously didn’t believe a word she was saying, but since she would never see them again after today—who cared?

She made it back to her room at last, tearing off her dress, throwing aside the shoes and carefully putting the jewellery down, before escaping into the sanctuary of the luxurious bathroom. At least the steam of the hot shower and the rich lather of perfumed soap made her feel marginally better, but not for long, because flashback images kept coming back to haunt her. Imagines of a hard, muscular body driving down on hers and warm arms enfolding her and holding her tight. Just concentrate on what you’re supposed to be doing, she told herself fiercely as she dragged a brush through her unruly curls. She had just slithered into her old denim cut-offs and a clean T-shirt, when there was a rap at the door.

She wasn’t going to deny the leap of her heart in response, or the determined pep talk she gave herself as she walked across the palatial suite. She told herself to play it cool. If Xan Constantinides wanted her phone number then she would give it to him, but she wasn’t going to act like it was a big deal. She might never have had sex before but over the years she’d listened to how friends and colleagues dealt with the thorny issue of The Morning After. And apparently the most stupid thing a woman could ever do, was to come over all eager.

Composing her face into what she hoped wasn’t an over-the-top smile, it faded immediately when she opened the door to discover it wasn’t Xan standing there but the newly crowned Queen of Zahristan—her sister Hannah! A sister whose face was filled with anger as she walked in without waiting to be invited, pushing the door shut behind

her, before assuming a grim expression of accusation which Tamsyn recognised all too well.

‘Would you like to tell me what’s going on?’ she demanded.

‘I could ask the same thing of you!’ retorted Tamsyn, reframing the accusation and turning it on its head since attack was always the best form of defence. ‘It’s the first day of your honeymoon—so what are you doing barging into my bedroom at this time in the morning? Won’t your new husband be wondering where you are?’

Hannah bit her lip and Tamsyn was shocked to see the despair which briefly darkened her sister’s eyes because she was usually cheerful, no matter what life threw at her. And despite her own predicament, Tamsyn felt her heart plummet as her worst fears began to materialise. Was Hannah’s marriage already starting to go off the rails, even though she had only been crowned Queen the previous day? She had warned her sister that it was a mistake to marry such a man as arrogant as Kulal. She’d begged her not to go through with the marriage just because she was pregnant, but Hannah hadn’t listened. What if the powerful Sheikh was being cruel to his pregnant wife—what then?

‘So where’s Kulal, Hannah?’ Tamsyn probed, as suspicion continued to stab at her heart like a dagger. ‘Doesn’t he mind you being here, quizzing me, on the first morning of his honeymoon?’

‘I’m not here to talk about my relationship!’ declared Hannah, but Tamsyn could hear the sorrow in her voice. ‘I’m here to ask whether you spent the night with Xan Constantinides.’

And despite all her bravado, Tamsyn felt a shiver whisper over her skin. Was it hearing someone else say the words out loud which drove home the true nature of what she had done? After years of fiercely guarding her innocence she had let the Greek tycoon lead her back to his suite and take her virginity with barely an arrogant snap of his fingers. A man she barely knew. A man she would probably never see again.

And it had been the most amazing thing which had ever happened to her.

They had spent the night having passionate sex—over and over again. He’d said things to her in Greek she hadn’t understood and things to her in English which she had, and which made her blush just remembering them.

‘You drive me crazy. Your breasts are small but the most perfect I have ever seen,’ he had growled at one point, lifting his head from her nipple, where the lick of his tongue and the graze of his teeth had been enough to have her writhing on the bed in ecstasy. ‘And do you want to know what else about you is perfect?’

She remembered thinking how delectable he looked with his cheekbones all flushed and his black hair wild as a lion’s mane from where she’d been running her fingers through it. She remembered an instinctive feeling of sexual power flooding through her as she met his hectic cobalt gaze. ‘Yes,’ she whispered. ‘Yes, I do.’

But he had answered with the urgent thrust of his seemingly ever-present erection, and Tamsyn had almost passed with pleasure as he brought her hurtling over the edge of fulfilment, again and again and again.