The Greek's Virgin Bride

Lightly, very lightly, he slipped his hand underneath the plait of her hair at the back of her neck.

'As I said, pethi mou, we can spend as long as we like here. Shall we do that?'

His fingers were brushing her nape. Very lightly.

It set every nerve in her body quivering.

Danger!

You've got to stop this—now!

'Nikos—'

'Hmm?' His fingertips were playing with loose strands of hair. She felt ripples of sensation down her spine.

'Nikos—'

She paused again, trying to concentrate, trying to focus on what she had to tell him. Must tell him. Right now.

'I—I have to talk to you!' The words came out in a rush.

It did not stop his fingers gentling at the tender skin beneath her ear, nor did it stop the shivers of pleasure vibrating in her.

'What about?' he asked idly. His other hand had come around her spine to rest on her hip. It felt large, and heavy, and warm. And dangerous.

Still he went on feathering the loosening tendrils of her hair, brushing the velvet of her skin.

She forced herself to concen

trate.

'About,.. about... what happened.'

'When?' asked Nikos, in that same lazy tone, as his thumb moved to brush along the line of her jaw. 'Last...last night....' 'Ahh,' breathed Nikos. 'That.' 'Yes! That!' echoed Andrea. It was supposed to come out forcefully, but as his thumb grazed the cleft of her chin it only came out as a sigh.

'This?' queried Nikos. His fingertips still stroked her cheek lightly, oh, so lightly, but now his thumb pressed lightly, oh, so lightly, on her full lower lip. 'No!'

'Ahh. Then this, perhaps...'

His hand smoothed over her hip languorously, shaping its feminine contour with lazy ease.

She felt her muscles clench spasmodically, unable to control them. She could feel how close he was behind her now, his body almost encircling hers. How had he got so close sud­denly?

She had no time to think of an answer. 'Oh,' he murmured, 'then it must be this ne?’ His thumb pressed on her lower lip and slid into the moistness within, gliding along the tender inner surface.

Sensation shimmered at his velvet touch, vibrating through her like a siren call she could not resist—could not.

She moaned, and softly bit the fleshy pad, drawing it into her mouth to do so.

She could not help herself. She simply could not help her­self.

She heard herself moan again, a little whimper in her throat, and now his hand was cupping her jaw, and his thumbpad was grazing the edge of her teeth.

She bit again, laving it with her tongue longingly, helplessly. He turned her in his arms and kissed her properly. She yielded without a word, her eyelids fluttering shut as she gave herself to the bliss of having Nikos kiss her.

It was a deep, sensual kiss. A kiss filled with all the hunger he had suppressed. A kiss for himself as well as her.

His arms slid around her, holding her tight against him, his hand spearing her hair, holding her head steady for him as he plundered the sweetness of her mouth, tongues mating and writhing.