The Marriage Betrayal (The Volakis Vow 1)

‘I don’t want to talk … I want to go to sleep,’ Sander teased.

‘You can’t—you’ve been away a week!’ Tally complained feelingly. ‘So, Athens?’

‘My father wants me to move home and get involved in his company and my mother wants me to marry a nice Greek girl, four of whom she lined up for a big dinner party they staged while I was there …’

None of that information was welcome to Tally but she kept on lightly smiling for she was conscious that she had asked and should be grateful that he had answered honestly. ‘Fancy any of them?’

‘No, don’t fancy getting married either,’ Sander confided, cupping a hand to a plump breast and massaging the pink pouting peak to stiffened sensitivity, smiling as her spine began to arch in response and a little breathy sound escaped her parted lips. ‘Why would I want anyone else when I have you in my bed? Do you know, I think your beautiful breasts are getting bigger?’

Tally went pink. ‘I think it’s the pills I’m taking.’

Sander gave her an all-male grin that had a wicked edge of pure sensuality. ‘I’m not complaining. I love your body. By the way, we’re going out tonight.’

‘Where?’

‘A friend is having a private party at a club,’ Sander proffered, springing upright and bending down to scoop her off the mattress. ‘Time for a shower, lazybones.’

Tally was thrilled that she was finally about to meet some of his friends. ‘I’ll need to go home to get changed—’

‘No, you won’t,’ Sander asserted. ‘I’ve taken care of that.’

‘What are you talking about?’

‘You’ll see …’ Tugging her under the water with him, Sander slicked her with shower gel and concentrated heavily on her breasts. Her nipples had become impossibly sensitive and, in tune with her gasps, it wasn’t long before it became obvious that washing was the last thing on Sander’s mind as well.

‘Want me?’ he breathed, grazing the swollen buds of her breasts with knowing fingers.

‘So much,’ she ground out between clenched teeth of restraint, shaking with the desire he had reawakened.

Angling his hips out from the wall, he lifted her and brought her down on his throbbing erection before flipping round to brace her against the tiles. What followed was energetic, earthy and incredibly exciting and, in the aftermath, she was so exhausted she lay up against him in a tangle of splayed limbs, struggling to catch her breath.

Wrapped in a towel in the bedroom, she finally discovered why he had said that there would be no need for her to go home and change. He strode out to the hall and reappeared with a pile of boxes, which he dumped in a casual heap on the bed.

‘New clothes,’ he told her cheerfully.

Tally froze, disconcerted. ‘You’ve bought me clothes?’

‘If I have to take you out one more time in that black dress, or that one with the flashy jewelled neckline, I’ll rip them in two!’ Sander complained. ‘You need a new outfit and here it is.’

He tugged open the first box and tipped the contents out, so that a spill of expensive emerald-green fabric slithered out onto the bed. It only took a glimpse of the famous designer label for her to recoil. ‘That dress must have cost hundreds … I can’t accept it from you!’

It was the first time that Tally had ever really irritated Sander and he had to bite back a derisive response. He knew how much appearances counted with his friends and while he appreciated the fact that, unlike most of her predecessors, she didn’t expect him to continually lavish expensive gifts on her, he thought she took independence too far for comfort.

In silent determination he broke open the other boxes and tumbled their contents out onto the bed. Tally flushed as she noticed the cobweb-fine underwear, and stockings and shoes that accompanied the dress. Her chin came up at a defiant angle. ‘Has my lack of a designer wardrobe caused you embarrassment?’

‘No, but I know enough about women to know that you will be embarrassed if you don’t wear this tonight,’ he completed smoothly.

Mortified by his candour, Tally looked away from him and wished that money weren’t such an embarrassing subject. This was the first time it had caused trouble between them. His annoyance did not pass her by, for although he had said nothing she knew him well enough to read the tension etched in his lean dark features and the coolness in his gaze. Her pride warred with her reluctance to stage a major argument over a gift that many women would have gratefully, even joyously accepted from him. For the first time she wondered if her lack of a presentable wardrobe had dissuaded him from taking her out to mix in his usual circles.

‘I’m even more embarrassed by you doing this,’ Tally confided in a rush. ‘But I can see that you intended to be kin

d and generous and even thoughtful, and I don’t want to be ungrateful. But please don’t ever buy me clothes again.’

‘I don’t want you to look out of place or feel uncomfortable with my friends,’ Sander admitted.

She almost told him that if that was the case he had the wrong friends but bit back the comment as the atmosphere was still tense and he was volatile.

She let her fingers glide over the costly material of the dress. ‘It’s a gorgeous colour,’ she conceded stiffly, offering an olive branch.

‘The instant I saw it, I knew you would look amazing in it,’ Sander confided, hauling her into his arms and staring down at her with flattering intensity.

And there and then she forgave him absolutely, even though her brain was still telling her that it was wrong to let him buy her expensive clothes. ‘Will you be annoyed if it doesn’t fit?’

‘This isn’t the first time I’ve bought a dress for a woman,’ Sander imparted drily.

‘Too much information,’ Tally muttered, vanishing back into the bathroom to tame and dry her wet hair.

‘I bought you emerald and diamond earrings as well.’ As Tally froze at the vanity mirror and spun round Sander dealt her a might-as-well-be-hung-for-a-sheep-as-a-lamb look of challenge.

Tally parted bloodless lips. ‘I don’t want them.’

In the doorway, Sander flung his arms wide in a gesture that expressed his frustration. ‘What is your problem? You give me a great deal of pleasure. Why is it wrong for me to show you my appreciation in the only way open to me?’

Put like that, it made her sound small-minded and ungrateful and she went pink. ‘Accepting costly gifts from you just doesn’t feel right,’ she framed.

‘Don’t be difficult,’ Sander censured. ‘You should never question generosity.’

She thought about the Greek girls his mother had lined up in Athens and chewed at her lower lip rather than toss a provocative retort. But if she wasn’t careful, she thought ruefully, loving Sander would make a coward of her and she would become so focused on keeping him happy that she would lose herself. It was a scary consideration and while she dried her hair and renewed her make-up she swore to herself that even love wouldn’t make a doormat of her, wouldn’t make her do and say and accept things she didn’t believe in.