The Greek's One-Night Heir

He just couldn’t deny her. ‘You know you can change your mind. I’ll—’

‘Theo—’

‘I don’t want to hurt you,’ he confessed rawly. It was incredibly true. Somehow, this woman he’d met only a few hours ago was precious to him. She mattered.

Her expression softened. ‘If it hurts, maybe you can kiss it better...’ She trailed off, suddenly shy.

That wave of protectiveness welled in him. He turned, swiftly searching the bedside table drawers. Relieved, he tossed the small box he’d found onto the bed. He’d leave nothing to chance.

Leah moaned as he pressed kisses across her collarbones and down her décolletage. He was so patient—too patient really. When he finally braced above her, anticipation heightened to a new level. He was big and heavy and wonderful. The slick hot reality impinged as she saw his muscles bunch. He braced as he held back. She knew he was being careful; she could tell in the way he watched her so closely. His concern melted her all the more.

‘Please,’ she murmured, knowing he needed to hear her wish again.

His expression tensed and he moved. Leah gasped as his big body invaded hers—tearing that last tiny barrier to bury deep inside her. He caught her sharp cry in a quick kiss.

‘Sorry,’ he muttered. His gaze was filled with searching concern for her. Of course that compassion was there—because if it wasn’t she never would have sought this with him.

‘Are you okay?’ He framed her face and kissed her again and again—so gentle and lush.

He was pressed so deeply into her. So incredibly close. And it was so overwhelming she could only nod, as she adjusted to his possession and to the millions of nerve endings that had sparked to life within her—that suddenly sought so much more.

He held firm, slowly kissing her until the stillness was too much for her—she needed him to move. Warmth overflowed. She’d not expected it would be this intimate and yet of course it was. She revelled in the tender passion of his kisses and her body relaxed until she was no longer just accepting his invasion, but welcoming it—slickening, heating, until she instinctively rocked her hips to help. He kissed her again and his groan reverberated into her chest. He moved then too, taking control, making it magic, and she completely forgot that first moment of pain in her building delight. She followed his rhythm, learning this dance until instinct urged her to hold him closer still. She wrapped her arms and legs around him, clinging close with every part of her as the spasms of delight snuck up on her so swiftly.

‘Don’t stop,’ she breathed desperately. ‘Please, don’t stop.’

But as she curved more tightly around him, so close to completion, he growled and suddenly froze.

‘Theo?’ she asked.

‘Trying...’ he gulped a breath ‘...not to be too rough.’

But she needed all of him.

‘Finish me,’ she begged.

At her broken plea she felt his restraint unravel and power surged in his body. He lost it—thrusting harder and faster and it was so dizzying, so intense, so unbearably good. She could only try and hold on, but her restraint had fled too. She clawed his skin, grasping him as tight as she could in her grip as her body and mind locked on him. But he didn’t stop, he pounded closer and fiercer, pushing them higher, further and faster until everything exploded in a flash of heat and light and utter, utter ecstasy.

* * *

Hours later Leah blinked, wishing she’d eaten more carrots as a kid so her night vision was better. Instead, she tripped over her shoe and muffled her squawk of pain as she hopped and tried to see well enough to find her other one. Her clothes had been scattered on the floor around the bed and, while she’d found most of them, she just needed this one last thing.

‘Why are you trying to sneak out?’ The lazy tease in his voice made her shiver.

‘Sorry.’ She stifled her nervous laughter.

As he switched on the lamp she glanced at him, embarrassment curling her spine. ‘I didn’t mean to wake you.’

His eyebrows lifted. ‘Because you didn’t want to talk to me?’

She swallowed. ‘I just...’

His low chuckle filled the void. ‘Relax. This doesn’t have to be awkward.’

‘No?’ But she needed to escape now because the temptation to fling herself back into bed, wrap herself around him and never let him go was just a little too strong.

He leaned out of bed and reached for his phone. ‘Give me your number.’

She stilled; the crowd of clamouring emotions shaking her up needed to settle. ‘I don’t think that’s a good idea,’ she said bravely. The night was over, the magic gone—wasn’t it? ‘We don’t even live in the same country.’ She drew in a breath. ‘So...there’s no point, is there?’

She wanted him to argue with her and say he wanted to see her again. But she had the feeling she’d spend the rest of eternity hoping he’d call. And if he did? Would she end up his booty call when he was in London? He didn’t want a relationship, and never marriage, remember? And she did want those things. So this needed to stay as a finite dream night.

‘No point?’ he echoed quietly.

She turned away as he got out of bed and scooped his trousers up from the floor. She couldn’t see his body again, couldn’t stop to talk more. If only she’d not fallen over her shoe she’d be out of here by now. It had been great sex, that was all. Other people experienced this all the time. She couldn’t be all inexperienced and needy now.

‘At least let me get you home safely.’

She couldn’t resist glancing back at him. ‘I’ll be fine on the—’

‘I’m only going to phone down to the porter and order you a cab.’ He sombrely studied her with those intense eyes. ‘I wasn’t going to drive you myself. I have to get to the airport, remember?’

‘Okay, thanks.’

But her heart pounded appallingly quick and hard as he strolled towards her and made it impossible to think.

She couldn’t look away. He was extraordinarily beautiful. Bronzed skin, strong, sleek muscle. She couldn’t believe she’d had the privilege of touching him everywhere. She swallowed, clawing back the desire to do it again right now.

She couldn’t possibly kiss him goodbye but just walking away seemed rude. For lack of a better idea she held out her hand for him to shake before he got too close. He paused, as if debating whether to take her hand or do something else entirely.

‘No regrets, Leah?’ he asked softly, finally clasping her hand in his in a handshake like no other. Could he feel her thundering pulse through her skin?

‘None.’ She couldn’t get her voice above a whisper. ‘But it’s done.’

‘Okay. Then, bye, beautiful Leah.’ He glanced down at their linked hands for a brief moment and then released her. ‘Thank you for a wonderful night.’

‘Thank you too,’ she echoed awkwardly and quickly turned away. ‘Bye.’

On the way down to the ground floor she squared h

er shoulders and refused to feel any sadness. Refused. She’d had an amazing night—the best night of her life, just as he’d promised. As she acknowledged that, a surprising shot of confidence lifted her. So what if she had bed hair? So what if the porter waiting to escort her into the taxi could tell she’d spent the night barely sleeping because one man—one amazing man—had wanted her and she’d wanted him and together they’d done all kinds of wonderful?

Things were looking up. She’d moved to London, she had her own place, a new job she actually wanted and she was going to make such a go of it.

Finally, her life was only going to get better.

CHAPTER THREE

‘WHAT DO YOU think of this pattern, Leah?’

Smiling, Leah paused by the open doorway of her favourite resident’s room. She loved her job as receptionist in the private care facility in North London—mainly because she loved the residents. They were interesting and she enjoyed, not only being able to help them and their families, but just talking to them too. She’d been here coming up five months and as her confidence had increased, her bond with them all had built.

Now she went into Maeve’s room to study the paper the old woman was holding up to her. They’d discovered a kindred fondness for knitting early in Leah’s employment. It was a favourite way of relaxing, aside from reading, for them both. So Leah looked at the picture with interest. It was a pattern for a baby jacket. She’d thought Maeve’s grandchildren were all older. Perhaps there was going to be a great-grandchild?

‘I thought I’d better get started for you, but wasn’t sure which colour you’re going to need. Have you found out? Should I do pink or blue?’ The elderly woman’s eyes twinkled with curiosity.

Startled, Leah let out a stunned little laugh. Maeve wanted to knit this for her? Why? ‘I’m not pregnant, Maeve.’

‘You’re just the right age to be pregnant,’ Maeve said. ‘I was about your age when I had my first.’