Modern Romance October 2019 Books 5-8. Annie West

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СКАЧАТЬ possession. It had been five months but her body welcomed him back as though he were her saviour. She arched her back instinctively, needing more, and he drove himself deeper, pushed up on his elbows so he could see her, watch her, as well as feel her reactions.

      Her insides squeezed him tight, muscles convulsing around him as he stretched her body to accommodate his length.

      ‘What are you doing to me?’ he groaned, and then said something in his native tongue, the words, spiced and warm, flickering inside her blood.

      ‘I don’t know but you’re doing it right back,’ she whispered, digging her nails into his shoulders before running them lower, finding the edge of his shirt and lifting it, trailing her fingertips over his back, feeling his smooth, warm skin beneath her and revelling in the contact.

      Higher the shirt went, until he pushed up off one arm, ripping it from his body and casting it aside, so that he was naked on top of her. She wanted to stare at him, but she was incapable of forming the words to demand that when he was moving inside her, his body calling to hers, demanding her response, invoking ancient, soul-deep rhythms and needs.

      ‘Christós…’ The word was dark, a curse and a plea. His expression was taut as he looked down at her, unable to fathom her, this, them. ‘Who are you?’

      There was no answer she could give; the question made little sense.

      He didn’t require an answer, in any event. He moved faster then, his hands cupping her breasts, his mouth possessing hers as he kissed her until she saw stars and his hard arousal thrust deep inside her and everything she was in the past and would be in the future seemed to be coalescing in that one single, fragile moment.

      She dug her nails into the curve of his buttock as pleasure pounded against her, like one of those waves from her faraway childhood, incessant, demanding, ancient. She cried his name and he stilled, his body heavy on hers, but as she exploded with pleasure her muscles squeezed him tight and Leonidas dropped his arms to his side, holding himself steady above her, staring down at her, watching every last second of delirium take over her body.

      He stared at her so that when she blinked her eyes open, her own disorientation at what had just happened filling her with uncertainty, he saw it and he dropped his head, kissing her again, as though he knew how much she needed it.

      It was a brief reprieve, nothing more. She’d been drowned by their passion and then emerged for air, and now Leonidas was taking her back under with him, tangling her in his limbs, his hands roaming all of her body now, until he curved them behind her bottom and lifted her a little off the sand, so his arousal reached even deeper and she found insanity was once more in pursuit.

      His name tripped off her tongue, pushing into his mouth. With every thrust of his arousal, his body tightened, his buttocks squeezing, his muscles firm. She felt him beneath her palms, all of him, and then he moved faster, deeper and she was lifting into the heavens again, her body weightless and powerless to resist.

      He moved inside her and she called his name as she burst apart at the seams, Leonidas, over and over. She called to him—willing him to answer—and he did. He tangled his fingers through hers, lifting Hannah’s arms up above her head, his eyes on hers intense as his own explosion wracked his body, his release simultaneous with hers.

      Their breath was frantic, louder than the ocean and the flapping of birds overhead, their exhalations thick and raspy, drenched in urgency. Pleasure had made her lungs expire. He lay on top of her and she ran her fingers down his back, still mesmerised by the feeling of his skin, and this: the closeness, the weight, the intimacy.

      It lasted only seconds, and then Leonidas was rolling off, beside Hannah, onto his back on the sand beside her, staring at the dawn sky.

      ‘Christós…’ He said the word low and thick. ‘What are you?’

      Again, a question that was almost impossible to answer. He turned his head to stare at her and there was confusion in his eyes, and a look of resignation.

      ‘What do you mean?’

      He reached out as though he couldn’t help himself, his fingers catching a thick section of her hair and running through it, his eyes on the brassy tones.

      ‘Are you real?’

      The question made no sense.

      She raised an eyebrow, propping up on one elbow, a smile tugging at her lips. ‘I’m pretty sure I am.’

      He didn’t smile. ‘I swore we wouldn’t do this.’

      Hannah expelled a sigh. ‘You said that. I heard you. It doesn’t make sense, though.’

      His frown deepened. ‘For four years I have been able to resist any woman in the world. For four years I have been single, and then you…’

      Hannah was quiet as his words ran through her mind and their meaning became clear. ‘You mean you hadn’t been with anyone since Amy died?’

      His expression was shuttered. He shook his head, his lips a grim line in his face. ‘No.’

      Hannah’s chest hurt, as if it had been sliced in half and cut wide open. ‘Why not?’

      His nostrils flared. ‘Many reasons.’ His hand lifted to her hair again, toying with the ends. ‘I enjoyed resisting temptation, choosing to be celibate, to be alone. And then I saw you and it was just like this. As though you are some kind of angel—or devil—sent to tempt me even when I know how wrong this is. I spent four years flexing my power here and you take it away from me completely.’

      Hannah’s voice was thick; she didn’t know if she was flattered or insulted. She suspected a bit of both. ‘Why is it wrong?’

      He pushed up to standing then, just as he had the night before when she’d touched on areas he preferred not to discuss.

      But she wasn’t going to let him get away with it twice. ‘I’m serious, Leonidas. Why is this wrong?’

       CHAPTER EIGHT

      SHE WAITED AND WAITED and after a moment, she wondered if he wasn’t going to answer her. He simply stood there, naked as the day he was born, staring out to sea, and she moved towards him, coming around in front of him so she could look up into his stubborn face.

      ‘I don’t know much about sex,’ she said slowly, when he remained silent. ‘But I do know that I want to feel more of this.’ She gestured from him to her. ‘I do know this is amazing and hot and incredibly addictive.’

      He ground his teeth together, the action making his jaw tight, his expression grim. ‘That night shouldn’t have happened.’

      Hannah shook her head, rejecting both the words and the sentiment. ‘Neither of us planned that it would, just like we didn’t plan for this to happen, but that doesn’t mean it was wrong.’

      He looked at her then, his expression impossible to interpret. ‘You are so young.’

      He said it as though it were a criticism.

      ‘I’m twenty-three.’

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