Married to a Mistress (The Husband Hunters 1)

‘I love exciting you,’ Angelos confided hoarsely, and he kissed her again, slowly, sensually this time. A long, powerful thigh nudged hers apart. A surge of unbearable heat left her boneless as he bent her back over his supporting arm, splaying his hand across the clenched muscles of her stomach. His skilled fingers skated through the cluster of damp golden curls and into the hot, melting warmth beneath. She whimpered and squirmed under his mouth, and at the exact moment when her legs began to buckle he picked her up with easy strength and carried her down to the bedroom.

He stood over her, unzipping the cut-offs, peeling them off. And then he came down to her. ‘Angelos...’ she pleaded, aroused beyond bearing.

Answering the powerful need he had awakened, he took her hard and fast, as always disturbingly attuned to the level of her need. And then there was nothing, nothing but him and the wild sensation that controlled her as surely as he did. She cried out as he drove her to a peak of exquisite pleasure and then slumped, absolutely, totally drained.

‘Have you ever been in love?’ Angelos asked lazily then.

Unprepared for serious conversation, Maxie blinked and met brilliant assessing eyes. ‘Yes.’

‘What happened?’

Maxie lowered her lashes protectively. ‘He didn’t love me back...er, what about you?’

‘Once...’

Maxie opened her eyes wide. ‘And?’

Angelos focused on her swollen mouth, ebony lashes screening his gaze. ‘I fell victim to a feminist with high expectations of the man in her life. She thought I was great in bed but that was kind of it.’

‘Tart!’ Maxie condemned without hesitation, absolutely outraged to discover he had loved somebody else and, worst of all, somebody wholly undeserving of the honour. There was just so much more to Angelos than his ability to drive her crazy with desire, she thought furiously. He was highly entertaining company and such a wretched tease sometimes...

Dark eyes met hers with disturbing clarity. ‘She wasn’t and isn’t a tart...is that jealousy, I hear?’

‘I’m not the jealous type,’ Maxie lied, and, snaking free of him with the Ice Queen look she hadn’t given him in weeks, she slid off the bed. ‘I feel like a shower.’

On the flight back to London, Maxie contemplated the wedding ring now embellishing her finger. It was new, a broad platinum band. It was also accompanied by a gorgeous knuckleduster of sapphires and diamonds.

‘An engagement ring?’ she had asked him incredulously.

‘A gift,’ Angelos had insisted. But he had produced both at spectacular speed.

Indeed, her finger was now so crowded, a glance at a hundred yards would give the news that she was married to even the most disinterested onlooker. But why couldn’t Angelos mention the prospect of having children...or something, anything that would make her feel like a really permanent fixture in his life? she wondered ruefully. Maybe he didn’t want children. Or maybe he just couldn’t contemplate the idea of having children with her. Certainly he hadn’t taken a single risk in that department.

They parted at the airport. Angelos headed for the Petronides building and Maxie travelled back to his apartment, her new home. Barely stopping to catch her breath, she found the main bedroom, went into the dressing-room and searched through wardrobe after wardrobe of fabulous suits in search of that dinner jacket with her list in the pocket. She found half a dozen dinner jackets, but not one of them contained what she sought. Obviously that list had been dumped. She relaxed.

Angelos called her at lunchtime. ‘Something’s come up. I may be very late tonight,’ he informed her.

Maxie’s face fell a mile but her response was upbeat. ‘Don’t worry, I’ll amuse myself—’

‘How?’ Angelos interrupted instantaneously.

‘I’ll have an early night.’ Maxie worked hard to keep the amusement out of her voice.

‘I have this recurring image of you hitting the town on your own.’

‘Because you know you got away with going to that nightclub by yourself, but you won’t ever again,’ Maxie murmured with complete sincerity.

Maxie couldn’t believe how much she missed him that night. She thought she would turn over at some stage and find him there in the bed beside her, and it was something of a shock to wake up at eight and discover she was still alone.

By the time she sat down to breakfast, however, the table was rejoicing in a huge bunch of white lilies. ‘Missing you too much,’ the card complained. Maxie heaved a happy sigh, consoled by the sight. Her portable phone buzzed.

‘Thank you for the flowers,’ she said, since nobody else but Angelos had her number. ‘Where are you?’