The Greek's Bought Bride

‘I see you wore white lingerie for your wedding day,’ he observed thickly, tracing a slow finger over the snowy lace edge of her balcony bra. ‘How very traditional.’

‘It was the only underwear which didn’t show beneath my wedding dress,’ she said defiantly.

Xan understood a little now of what had made her so defensive, but the thought left his mind the moment he brushed against the taut wetness of her panties, hearing her gasp as he encountered her sweet spot. He slid the zip of his jeans over his aching hardness and pulled off his own clothes before removing her underwear with hands which were inexplicably shaking, something which had never happened to him before. Yet as he climbed onto the bed beside her, he was forced to admit that this did feel different—and this time he couldn’t blame it on her innocence. Had all the fuss made by his staff about their mock wedding somehow got to him? As if some of their thankful celebration had seeped into his system, kicking his habitual cynicism into touch, making what was happening between him and the little redhead seem especially intense.

Never had a woman seemed so responsive to his touch. She shivered as he reacquainted himself with every inch of her skin, his lips hungrily kissing her neck and breasts and belly as he began to finger her. He played with her until she was writhing and gasping his name, her fingernails clawing frantically at his shoulders. He remembered thinking that she was going to mark him and make him bleed—and that he didn’t care.

His gasps became urgent as he entered her and she cried out with each deep thrust, soft

thighs wrapped tightly around his back. And nothing had ever felt this good, thought Xan with delirious pleasure. Nothing. He wanted it to last and last but she was too close, and so was he. He splayed his fingers over her peaking nipples as she began to spasm around him, and his own orgasm hit him like a speed train.

On and on it went, until at last he collapsed against her shoulder with his lips pressed against her damp and tumbled curls. It was a while before he could bring himself to withdraw from her, but just as soon as he did, her tiny fingers curled intimately around him and he could feel himself hardening again beneath her light touch. He slid inside her for a second time and before too long she was bucking wildly beneath him and crying out his name. Soon after his third orgasm, he lay stroking her head and realising that for the next two weeks of his honeymoon, it was just going to be him and Tamsyn.

He stared down at the satisfied slant of her lips. At the lazy flutter of her eyelashes as she gave a sleepy little sigh of contentment. She snuggled deeper into the crook of his arm and Xan felt the automatic stir of overpowering lust and something else. Something he couldn’t seem to define....

Maybe it was panic.

CHAPTER TEN

THE MORNING SUN drifted in through the open windows of the bedroom but Tamsyn kept her eyes tightly shut, listening to the even sound of Xan’s breathing. She needed to get her thoughts straight before he awoke. She needed to get her mask firmly in place, knowing he would baulk if he ever realised the truth. That their marriage of convenience was about to get a whole lot more complicated.

How the hell had it happened? At what point during this crazy honeymoon, had she started to care for her husband in a way which suddenly seemed unstoppable? She risked turning her head, to see his ruffled black hair lying against the pillow. Was she such a sucker for affection, that she’d fallen for a man just because he clearly enjoyed having sex with her and they spent long hours romping in bed together?

She swallowed. No. It was more than that. Xan could be kind, she had discovered. She’d seen that in the way he was with his staff, but he was also kind to her—and interested. In fact, he’d surprised her by wanting to know her views on all kinds of things. Things which nobody had ever bothered asking her about before—like politics and space travel and global warming. And Tamsyn had discovered how flattering it was when a powerful and successful man elicited the opinion of someone who didn’t have a formal exam qualification to her name.

Nearly two weeks into her marriage and she had turned from being a reluctant bride to somebody who found joy in pretty much every moment she spent with her husband. But at least Xan didn’t have a clue how she was feeling, because concealment was something she excelled at, when she put her mind to it. She’d had a lifetime’s practice in emotional subterfuge. She might now want him, but he certainly didn’t want her. That had never been part of the deal. No man had ever wanted her, she reminded herself grimly. Not even her own father.

This marriage couldn’t last. It was never intended to last. And the deeper she fell for him, the more painful their split was going to be...

Dark lashes fluttered open and Tamsyn saw the cobalt gleam from between Xan’s shuttered eyes. He gave a lazy stretch and yawned, before pulling her against his warm nakedness and kissing the top of her ruffled curls.

‘And what would you like to do today, sizighos mou?’ His voice deepened as his hand slipped beneath the sheet and he began to massage one erect nipple. ‘Since it’s the last day of our honeymoon.’

Tamsyn bit her lip, wishing he hadn’t reminded her, especially since tomorrow was the day of their post-wedding party and one which his father had now announced he would definitely be attending. She wasn’t looking forward to all his friends giving her the once-over and finding her wanting. Her thick skin seemed to have thinned these last few days and suddenly the thought of having to play the unsuitable wife was filling her with dread.

‘We could spend the day on the beach,’ Xan was saying, stroking the flat of his hand over her belly.

‘Beach sounds good,’ she agreed.

‘Picnic or restaurant lunch?’

She tried to summon up some enthusiasm. ‘Picnic, I think.’

‘Relios.’ He gave a slow flicker of a smile and bent his mouth to her nipple. ‘My thoughts exactly.’

Reluctantly, she pulled away. ‘I’ll go and get showered—’

‘Hey,’ he protested, his hand reaching out to capture her waist. ‘What’s the hurry?’

Tamsyn’s answering smile was tight as she wriggled free, because the last thing she needed was another example of an easy compatibility which meant nothing. ‘I need to speak to Rhea about lunch,’ she insisted, jumping out of bed before he could distract her again. ‘If we’re not careful, we’ll end up spending the day in bed without actually having our picnic.’

‘And would that be such a crime?’ he grumbled. ‘Isn’t that what honeymoons are supposed to be about.’

‘Today it would,’ she said briskly. ‘I need to speak to Elena about flowers for the party and to Rhea about all sorts of boring things, including canapés.’

There was a moment of silence. ‘How quickly you have adapted,’ he observed silkily, with a note of something she didn’t recognise in his voice. ‘You are beginning to sound like a real wife, Tamsyn.’

‘And we wouldn’t want that, would we?’ she questioned brightly. ‘Don’t worry, Xan. I’ll have re-adopted my wild-child persona by tomorrow. The shortest dress, the biggest hair and the most make-up. That should do the trick, don’t you think? I can’t wait to see the reaction of your friends and colleagues.’ She forced a smile. ‘And now I really must go and shower.’