Constantine's Defiant Mistress

‘That is what it is there for. You play with it while I show your mama her room—which is just along the corridor—then we will go downstairs and eat something, and later on you can swim. Would you like that?’

Alex’s eyes were like dark, delighted saucers. ‘Oh, yes!’ And he ran over to the castle.

Laura looked up at Constantine, fighting to keep her emotions in check—but, whichever way you looked at it, the Greek tycoon had gone out of his way to make the small boy feel welcome, and she found that she was having to blink back sudden tears. She wanted to say thank you, but the look which had darkened his features into a steely mask was not one which readily invited gratitude.

‘Let’s go,’ said Constantine softly, and Laura’s heart was pounding heavily as they walked along the cool, marbled corridor. She felt like a prisoner whose fate had been sealed, yet she was filled with a terrible kind of excitement when Constantine halted before a door. As he threw it open, all she could see was a bed.

‘What did Demetra say to you outside?’ she questioned quickly, wanting something—anything—to distract her attention from that bed.

‘That you looked too small and too slight for any kind of physical work.’

‘And what did you tell her?’

Constantine paused as he stared down into the stormy beauty of her grey eyes, registering the dormant strength which lay within her petite frame. ‘I told her that you were no stranger to hard work,’ he said unexpectedly.

‘Oh.’ The words caught her off-guard, and Laura found herself feeling ridiculously warmed by the nearest thing to a compliment he’d paid her. She looked up at him, heart racing. ‘Why, thank you—’ But she got no further, because Constantine’s gaze was raking over her face. He took her hand, pulling her inside the bedroom, shutting the door on the rest of the world.

‘Be very clear about this, Laura. I don’t want your thanks,’ he said softly. ‘I want you. This…’ And suddenly he was kissing her with a fervour which sapped the last of her resistance. Her knees sagged and she fell against him as with a low moan he tightened his arms around her, his lips prising hers open with effortless mastery.

It was a frantic, seeking kiss, and for a few seconds Laura gave herself up to it completely. She felt the lick of his tongue exploring hers, the sweet pressure of his mouth as it seemed to plunder deeper and deeper within her mouth—until she felt as if he had stripped her bare with his kiss. Suddenly she was vulnerable. Too vulnerable.

She could feel her breasts begin to prickle as they pushed against the hard wall of his chest, and an unbearable aching clamoured at the fork of her thighs. She wanted him to lift her skirt up. She wanted him to touch her. She wanted…

Had she silently transmitted those wishes to Constantine? Because suddenly he was making them all come true. His hand was impatiently rucking up the cotton of her sundress and splaying with indolent possession over the co

ol silk of her inner thigh.

‘Constantine,’ she moaned into his mouth, and the sound seemed to incite him.

‘Ah, ne, ne,’ he breathed, as he deepened the kiss, moving his fingertips upwards so that they scorched their way over the moist fabric of her panties and he felt her buck beneath him. Would there be time? he wondered distractedly as his hand moved down to his belt.

Through the hot heat of a fierce sexual hunger which seemed ready to consume her Laura felt the sudden tension in his body, and became graphically aware of his growing hardness. And with a certainty born of instinct rather than experience she saw just where all this was leading. Was that the rasping of a zip she could hear? With a stifled cry of horror and recrimination she tore her lips away and pushed helplessly at the solid wall of his chest, but her head dipped against it for support.

‘We…we mustn’t,’ she breathed against his racing heart. ‘You know we mustn’t.’

Constantine caught his breath before disengaging himself, propelling her away from him as if she had suddenly become poison in his arms. He turned away to adjust his trousers even as hot, sexual hunger coursed round his veins, and it was a moment or two until he had composed himself enough to face her.

And in a way he knew she was right to stop things before they went too far, but—damn her—he didn’t want her to be right! Especially when she was so turned on and struggling to control her breath. He was the one who always controlled the situation, and women the ones who clung to him like limpets as they waited for his command. The whole encounter had lasted only a couple of minutes but fierce frustration made him turn on her.

‘Do you always conduct yourself in such a way?’ he accused hotly. ‘Using your eyes to beg silently for a man to take you when your son is just along the corridor? How many times has he witnessed his mother in an intimate embrace with a man, Laura—tell me that? How many?’

Laura’s mouth opened in an ‘oh’ of protest. ‘Never,’ she breathed fiercely, shaking her head so that her hair flew round it like a cloud. ‘Never, ever.’

‘A woman who turns on as quickly as you do? I don’t believe you,’ he said with soft scorn.

‘Don’t you? Well, that’s your problem, not mine, Constantine—you can believe what you damned well like!’ Injustice bubbled up in her blood to replace the aching fires of frustration. Why should he apportion blame solely to her? Smoothing her hands down over her heated cheeks, she stared at him. ‘You had nothing to do with what just happened, of course—you were just standing there like an innocent while I threw myself at you.’

‘I wouldn’t advise that you go down the accusation path,’ he drawled arrogantly. ‘Because when a woman has sent out the unmistakable message that she wants a man to make love to her then I’m afraid that nature has programmed that man to follow through.’

Laura stilled as she stared at him in horror. Had she? Her heart began to pound anxiously. Maybe she had—though certainly not consciously—and yet wasn’t his reaction to it about as insulting as it was possible to get? As if kissing her had been nothing more than a conditioned response for him, while for her it had been…

What? Her betraying body shivered with sweet memory. What had it been? Like being transported straight to paradise without stopping? Or—even worse—a reactivation of that passionate longing he had awoken in her the very first time she’d looked into his eyes all those years ago? When she’d believed in love at first sight and had cried for months after he’d gone.

But such emotion was completely wasted. He doesn’t like you, she reminded herself bitterly—and he certainly doesn’t respect you. For him you’re just another willing body in a long line of willing bodies who have been welcoming him into their arms all his life.

Once she had been blinded by youth and inexperience and his sheer charisma, and she had willingly fallen into bed with him. But now things were different. She had too much to lose to risk throwing it all away on some feel-good sex which would leave her physically satisfied but emotionally bereft. Sex which he might use against her to paint a black picture of her morals. Or which might prejudice her attempts to have a reasonable relationship with him for the sake of his son.

‘Shall we just put it down to experience and make sure it doesn’t happen again?’ she questioned unsteadily.