Penniless and Secretly Pregnant

“I’m not talking about money.”

Then what? Her heart lifted to her throat. He couldn’t mean—he might be able to truly love her?

Lowering his head, he kissed her. His sensual fingertips caressed her bare skin, from her shoulder, to the sensitive crook of her neck. He softly stroked the tender flesh of her earlobe, his fingers tangling in her long hair, as need sizzled through her.

He cupped her breast, rubbing his thumb against her nipple. Leaning forward, he drew her tight, aching nipple into the wet heat of his mouth. She gasped as she felt the hot swirl of his tongue suckling her, the roughness of his chin against her skin.

Pushing her legs apart, he knelt between her thighs on the bed. His broad-shouldered body was silhouetted by the city’s dappled light outside. His black eyes gleamed as he slowly pulled her white lace panties down from her hips, like a whisper over her thighs, past her knees and calves, tossing them to the floor.

Shivering with desire, she closed her eyes, her head straining back against the pillows. He spread her thighs wide with his powerful hands, moving his head between her legs. He paused, and she felt the heat of his breath against her skin.

Then, finally, he lowered his head to taste her. His hot, sensual tongue swirled against her, lightly, delicately, then lapping with more force, pushing inside her as she gasped with pleasure. The delicious tension coiled inside her, building higher and higher, until, suddenly, she cried out with joy, rocked by ecstasy.

She was still gasping beneath waves of pleasure when he lifted himself up, holding himself over her belly with his powerful arms. Positioning himself between her legs, he pushed inside her with one deep thrust.

A hoarse groan escaped him as filled her, stretching her to the hilt. For a split second, it was too much.

Then, as he held himself still, allowing her body to adjust, incredibly, new pleasure began to build inside her. He thrust inside her again, slowly. But the muscles of his arms seemed to bulge and shake, and a bead of sweat formed on his forehead, from the effort of holding himself back.

Suddenly, he pulled back. Falling onto the bed beside her, he gently rolled her on top of him.

“Take me,” he said huskily, his dark eyes like fire. “I’m yours, if you want me.”

If she wanted him?

She wanted him—yes. But he’d never asked her to take control before. Feeling uncertain, she hesitated, her body suspended over his. He was so huge. Then, slowly, she positioned herself, lowering her body, pulling him inside her, inch by delicious inch. The pleasure was almost too much to bear.

Then she looked down at his face.

His expression was worshipful, almost holy, as if he held his breath, as if he were barely holding on to the shreds of self-control. Her confidence grew.

Slowly, she began to ride him. As she picked up rhythm, he gasped aloud, a single choked groan. He suddenly gripped her thighs with his large hands.

“Daisy—slow down—I can’t—I can’t—”

But she was merciless, driving forward. Pulling him inside her deeply, she increased her speed, going faster and faster. Her full breasts swayed as she rocked back and forward, sliding hot and wet against him, until, gripping her fingernails into his shoulders, she hit another sharp peak, even higher and more devastating than the one before, and she screamed.

He exploded, pouring himself into her with a guttural roar.

She collapsed forward against him, sweaty and spent. He cradled her gently into his arms, kissing her temple.

“Daisy—agape mou—”

It had been his old nickname for her, and at that, her heart finally could take no more.

How could she have ever thought she couldn’t love him again? How could she have imagined she could ever protect her heart?

Daisy’s eyes flew open in the darkness.

She was in love with him. She always had been, even in the depths of her hatred and hurt. She’d never stopped loving him.

Turning to face him on the bed, she looked at his handsome face beneath a beam of silvery moonlight pouring like rain through the window. She whispered, “Yes.”

Leonidas grew very still. “Yes?”

Tears filled her eyes, tears Daisy didn’t understand. Were they tears of grief—or joy?

Twining her fingers in his dark hair, she tried to believe it was joy.