Powerful Greek, Unworldly Wife

Abandoning words, he lay down on the bed next to her. He felt her shrink and saw her try and shift away from him but he placed his hand firmly on her hip, halting her slide to freedom. Used to negotiating himself out of difficult situations, it was a struggle to stay silent, but he knew that the time for slick verbal patter was long past. She’d made up her mind about herself and the way he saw her. Words weren’t going to make a difference.

Applying a different tactic, Leandro slid his arm round her, drawing her rigid, defensive body against his. Through the thin silk robe he could feel her shivering and he frowned because the evening was hot and the air-conditioning in the unoccupied guest bedroom had been switched off. She wasn’t cold. She was afraid.

Of him? Of rejection?

Taking unfair advantage of the differences in their physical strength, Leandro rolled her onto her back and shifted himself on top of her, his body trapping hers against the silk sheets.

‘Why won’t you leave me alone, Leandro?’ Her voice was a broken plea and he stroked her damp, tangled hair away from her face with a gentle hand.

‘I tried that,’ he said softly. ‘It was my biggest mistake.’ Although there was just enough light shining in from the pool area for him to be able to make out the outline of her body, what was going on in her eyes was a mystery to him. He contemplated turning on the bedside light and then decided that it wouldn’t be a good move. Maybe, this time, the dark would be helpful.

She tried to wriggle away from him but he was too heavy for her. ‘Leandro, please. Don’t do this.’

Leandro curved his hand around her cheek and drew her face back to his. He wanted desperately to see her expression. He also knew that if he turned that light on, her distress would stop him in his tracks.

‘Don’t do this, Leandro,’ she whispered, trying to move her head.

Leandro silenced her plea with the warmth of his mouth. And what had begun as an attempt to silence her objections quickly turned into a sensual feast. With a groan, he deepened the kiss, wondering how he could have forgotten how good she tasted. She was strawberries and summer sunshine, honey and green English pastures. But, most of all, she was innocence. And he took ruthless advantage of her lack of sophistication, pushing aside the niggling thought that perhaps it wasn’t entirely fair of him to use every erotic skill at his disposal when she was this emotionally vulnerable. They were past being fair, he reasoned, feeling a rush of satisfaction as her mouth moved under his, allowing him the access he was demanding.

Without breaking the kiss, he eased the sheet down her body and untied her robe one handed, careful to keep his movements slow and subtle. But slow and subtle could only take him so far, and he identified the exact moment she realised that he’d undone the robe because she suddenly stiffened under him.

Her arm lifted, but he anticipated her urge to cover herself and closed his fingers around her wrist. Drawing her arm above her head, he restrained her gently, feeling her tug against his grip as she tried to free herself. She writhed under him, the unconsciously sensual movement sending his blood pressure soaring. Just to be on the safe side, he drew her other arm above her head, holding both with one hand, leaving the other free to explore her quivering frame.

Leandro dropped his mouth to her throat, feeling her pulse pumping against the hot probe of his tongue. Her soft groan was half encouragement, half denial, and he gently moved her robe aside, exposing the soft curve of her breast.

She tugged at her wrists and he tightened his hold, feeling her instant response as he closed his mouth over the jutting pink tip of one swollen breast. Millie arched in an involuntary movement that brought her into direct contact with the hard thrust of his erection. Denying her feminine invitation, Leandro pressed her down against the bed with the power of his body, suppressing her attempts to relieve the sexual ache he’d created.

Soon, he promised himself. Soon, he’d give her what she wanted. And himself too. But first…

Dragging his tongue over the rigid peak of her nipple, he stroked his free hand over the flat, trembling planes of her stomach, feeling the ridge of the scars under his seeking fingers. He lingered for a moment, infinitely gentle—did it hurt?—and then moved his hand lower still, this time to the tops of her thighs. Another scar here, and he explored it with the tips of his fingers and then shifted his weight to give himself the access he wanted.

His fingers rested at the top of her thigh and he felt the tiny movements of her pelvis as her body begged. Taking her mouth again, he moved his hand, encountering soft curls, damp now with the response he’d created. Stroking her gently, he felt her gasp against his mouth and then the gasp turned to a moan as he explored her intimately with sure, confident fingers. She was warm and slick, and he took his time, using all his skill and expertise to arouse her body past the point of inhibition. Her moan of desperation connected straight to his libido and suddenly it wasn’t enough to touch. He wanted to taste—all of her.

Easing his mouth from hers, Leandro looked down at her, but he couldn’t make out her features. Responding to her soft moans, he released her hands, and this time she didn’t move them. She just kept them stretched above her head, like some pagan goddess preparing herself for sacrifice.

Leandro slid down her quivering, sensitised body and gently spread her thighs. He’d expected resistance, but her eyes were still closed, her body compliant as he arranged her as he wanted her and then lowered his head. The touch of his mouth drew a soft gasp from her and he closed his hands around her thighs, holding her still while he subjected her to the most extreme sexual torture, his touch so gentle and impossibly skilled that he turned her from doubtful to desperate within seconds. The air was filled with her cries and he continued his determined assault on her senses, sliding one finger deep inside her, the feel of her slick femininity challenging his own control. His libido bit and fought but he continued to touch, stroke, taste until the excitement was a screaming force inside him and she was mindless and compliant under him.

Like a man clinging to a ledge with the tips of his fingers, Leandro refused to al

low himself to fall, and then he felt her hands in his hair and on his shoulders.

‘Now—Leandro, please…’ Her broken plea was all he needed and he shifted over her, sliding his hand under the deliciously rounded curve of her bottom and lifting her.

He wanted to speak—he wanted to tell her what he was feeling—but he was afraid of anything that might disturb this fragile connection he’d created between them, so he stayed silent, rejecting the words that flowed into his brain, reminding himself that there would be time enough for talking later.

Her damp core was slick against the tip of his erection and he gritted his teeth in an effort to hold back and do this gently.

‘Leandro…’ Her hips thrust against him, the movement sheathing him sufficiently to rack up the sexual torture a few more notches. Keeping his weight on his elbows, he eased into her slowly, the sweat beading on his brow as he forced himself to take it slowly. Her body gripped his like a hot, tight fist and his reacted by swelling still further, drawing a gasp from her parted lips.

‘Leandro…’

‘It’s all right,’ he breathed, ‘just relax—your body knows how to do this. Relax, agape mou, and trust me.’ He licked at her lips, nibbling gently, coaxing and teasing until he felt her respond. But he didn’t move, holding himself still until she moved her hips in a tentative invitation.

By a supreme effort of will, Leandro held onto control, keeping his own ravenous libido in check as he waited for her to reach the same point of desperation.

Millie groaned his name, arched and shifted, but still he didn’t move, the muscles in his shoulders pumping up and hard under the effort of holding back. Only when she sobbed out a plea and rubbed her thigh along the length of his did he allow himself to move again, and this time her body drew him in deep, her slick delicate tissues welcoming the hard thrust of his manhood.

Trying to think clearly through the red mist that clouded his brain, Leandro slid one hand down her thigh, urging her to wind her legs around him, and then adjusted his own position in a decisive movement that drew a soft gasp from her.