The Billionaires' Brides Bundle

Damian had the light on. There were papers in his lap but he wasn’t looking at them. Ivy had a magazine in hers but she wasn’t looking at it, either.

She was trying to stay awake. Trying to stay awake…

To her horror, she gave a jaw-creaking yawn.

“If you were tired,” Damian said coolly, “which, of course, you are not, you could recline your seat and close your eyes.”

She went on ignoring him. And yawned. Yawned again…

Her eyelids drooped. A minute, that was all she needed. Just a minute with her eyes shut…

She jerked upright. Her head was on Damian’s shoulder. Flustered, she pulled away.

“You are the most stubborn woman in the world. Damn it, what will you prove by not sleeping?”

“I told you, I’m not—”

“Oh, for heaven’s sake…” His arm closed around her shoulders. She protested; he ignored her and drew her to his side. “Close your eyes.”

“You can’t order someone to—”

“Yes,” he said firmly, “I can.” His arm tightened around her. “Go to sleep.” His tone softened. “I promise, I’ll keep you safe.”

Safe? How could she feel safe in the embrace of this imperious stranger?

And yet—and yet, she did. Feel safe. Warm. Content to lean her head against his hard shoulder. To feel the soft brush of his lips on her temple.

Strong arms closed around her. Lifted her, carried her through the dark cabin. Lay her down gently on a wide, soft bed.

Was she dreaming?

“Yes,” a husky voice whispered, “you are dreaming. Why not give yourself up to the dream?”

It wasn’t a dream. The bed was real. The voice was Damian’s. And she was in Damian’s arms, her body pressed to the length of his.

“I won’t sleep with you,” she heard herself whisper.

He gave a soft laugh. “You are sleeping with me right now, glyka mou,” he whispered back, though that term he used for her, whatever it meant, sounded somehow different. Softer. Sweeter…

Sweet as the whisper of his mouth over hers, again and again until she sighed and let her lips cling to his for one quick, transcendent moment.

“You are killing me, glyka mou,” he said thickly. “But sleep is all we’ll share tonight.” Another kiss, another gruff whisper. “I want you wide-awake when we make love.”

“Never,” Ivy heard herself whisper.

She felt his lips curve against hers in a smile.

“Go to sleep,” he said.

After that, there was only darkness.

CHAPTER SEVEN

IN THE earliest hours of the morning, Damian’s plane landed on his private airstrip on Minos.

The intercom light blinked on; the machine gave a soft beep. “We have arrived, Your Highness,” the steward’s voice said politely.

“Efharisto, Thomas.”