Revelations of His Runaway Bride

‘No, Christo.’ Her eyes were wide with horror. ‘Never compare yourself to them. It was perfect.’

He should turn away, but the view of her luscious body filled him. His gaze raked over her. She looked down at him, grasped the sheet in front of her and dragged it to her chest. Her cheeks flushed. That picture of innocence made her look even more beautiful, and it was a reminder.

‘Your virginity isn’t something you should have given me. Anyone else—’

‘I’ve never met anyone I thought worthy.’

Her words sliced through him. Her eyes were wide and soulful. They tore at his heart.

‘You’re worthy of me,’ she whispered.

How could he tell her he was not that person?

He wasn’t good enough. Not even his parents wanted him. But he craved to be a better man—one who’d never hurt her.

That bereft, lost look in her eyes haunted him. Christo hauled her close and she fell into his arms. He threaded his hands through her hair, dropping his lips to hers. He lost himself in her sweet intoxication. He couldn’t give her much, but he could give her this.

He rolled away from her and she whimpered in protest, smiling as he returned, sheathed, protected and ready. He eased her leg over his hip, bringing her close. She arched towards him. He was hard. Desperate to be inside her. Each breathy sigh pleaded with him to thrust into her body. But he held back. There’d be no clumsy attempt this morning. He wanted it slow and aching. So he could watch her tremble and fall apart as he filled her with consuming pleasure.

He reached his hands around to her perfect buttocks, drawing her close. She sighed as her eyes drifted shut. He slid his hands between her legs, teasing between her thighs till she begged—‘Please...’—and he slid one finger inside. Another circled her clitoris till she trembled in his arms.

She lifted her head and looked at him. Eyes glassy, breaths short and panting. He angled his hips towards her and entered her with a slow slide that almost undid him. She moaned—a deep, satisfying thing that punched low and hard. He kept his hand between them, teasing as he pulled her leg higher over his hip and maintained the aching rhythm between her thighs.

He looked into her glazed, desire-drugged face. He wanted her. More than life. The curl of need at his every move into her body twisted tight and threatened to snap him. He was close. So close. But he’d ensure her pleasure first. Her nipples had tightened and her breathing had become ragged. Every part of her was taut, as if she were hanging by a gossamer thread. Like she needed permission to let go.

‘Come for me, Thea.’

A final thrust and she gasped, as if starved for air. He lost all restraint as Thea threw her head back and sobbed out his name like some prayer to the heavens. Then the brittle seam holding him together ripped wide and he tore apart with her.

They lay for a while, his forehead against hers. Their panting breaths filled the room. Then he scooped her into his arms, showering her with soft kisses. He made a silent promise. He’d keep Thea safe for as long as he had her.

She raised her head. Her eyes were unfocused, her mouth red and soft.

‘Christo...?’

She wanted answers he couldn’t give.

He stroked a tendril of damp hair from her cheek. The birds outside sang louder now, but the dawn hadn’t broken fully. They had a few more hours to rest. A few more hours and then she’d leave his bed and he must never do this again. How could he, when he had nothing to offer her? Until then he had time to revel in her touch.

The grief of how little was left stabbed at the heart of him. He cradled her to his chest. ‘Sleep, koukla mou.’ He closed his eyes as she softened in his arms.

CHAPTER TWELVE

‘I’LL BE GONE a week—perhaps more.’

And so he’d left her. Alone.

Thea had offered to travel with him, but Christo had refused. For the few days before he’d left there’d been no breakfasts together. Even at night he’d turned her away. Said there was no longer any need for the charade, that everyone accepted their marriage as a proper one.

The rejection twisted her inside, but it didn’t quell her desire. Nothing doused the fever he’d awakened. She dreamed of hard, entwined bodies, only to wake exhausted. Filled her days with thoughts only of him.

What had he done to her? This was like some illness. She couldn’t escape the memory of pleasure, of the fire he’d lit. It consu

med her.

Thea wanted more. Much more. She understood their arrangement, but surely both of them could be adults and enjoy the time they had together?

It will burn you to ashes.