Marriage Of Convenience. Helen Bianchin

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СКАЧАТЬ Loukas probably was unlikely to run an electronic check of the world markets before heading for bed.

      ‘Headache?’

      Her eyelids lifted and she turned towards him. It would be so easy to say yes, and she almost did. Except honesty had her shaking her head.

      The night cast the car’s interior with a shadowy light, throwing his profile into stark angles.

      He was something else. Sophisticated, powerful…yet beneath that persona lurked a man she found difficult to fathom. Content, apparently, to enter a loveless marriage and sire progeny sans emotional involvement.

      What was it with that?

      She knew all the issues. Hadn’t she agreed to them? Although agree didn’t enter the equation. Choice had weighed heavily against her.

      A situation that pushed her to the edge and kept her there.

      ‘You handled the evening well.’

      His silky drawl curled round her nerve-ends and pulled them to breaking point.

      ‘While you excelled.’

      ‘A compliment?’

      She looked at him carefully. ‘Of course. What else?’

      ‘I doubt your foot’s deliberate aim was accidental.’

      ‘Really?’ Alesha managed sweetly.

      Loukas smiled. She was a refreshing change from the women who formed part of his business and social entourage. Women who knew how to please and were forthcoming in offering to share his bed.

      Easy pickings, he reflected without shame. Aware few, if any, had any thought beyond the advantages of his wealth, the gifts, the travel, the media attention his presence gained.

      It was after midnight when he garaged the car and reset the security system.

      Alesha made for the staircase, reaching their suite ahead of him, and she slipped off her heels, removed her ear-studs and reached for the clasp holding her pendant in place.

      Stiff, it still refused to release, and she muttered an unladylike oath beneath her breath.

      ‘Let me.’

      She hadn’t heard him enter the room, and she held her breath as his fingers brushed her nape. Within seconds he freed the recalcitrant clasp and dropped the pendant into her palm.

      ‘Thanks.’

      His eyes were dark, slumbrous, as he laid a finger beneath her chin and tilted it. ‘So…thank me.’

      The wayward pulse at the base of her throat began its rapid thudding beat, and her eyes flared as he lowered his head down to hers.

      ‘Don’t—’

      Whatever else she meant to utter didn’t find voice as his mouth took hers in a kiss that grazed her lips with sensual promise, warm, caressing with deliberate intent as he sought her response.

      One hand shifted to cup her nape while the other slid to the base of her spine and he drew her in against him.

      Awareness flared as he deepened the kiss, his tongue an erotic force that sent the blood sizzling through her veins, flooding her inner core with a piercing sweetness until she became lost…wanting, needing on some subliminal level to superimpose a different image from the cruel taunts she’d received beneath Seth’s hands.

      It would be so easy to close her eyes and let whatever happen…happen.

      She felt him reach for the zip fastening on her gown, sensed the slow slide as the silk slithered down her body. All she wore was a satin thong brief, and the breath hitched in her throat as he cupped her breasts and began exploring their contours, stroking each tender peak until she became powerless against the pleasurable sigh emerging from her lips.

      His mouth possessed her own…persuasive, evocative, as his hand shaped her waist, then slid low to seek her swollen clitoris.

      Unbidden, she arched against him, unaware of the sensual sound she made as he skilfully brought her to climax, held her there, then he probed her silken heat in readiness for his possession.

      It was the intrusion that brought her to a shuddering halt, and she froze, catapulted into a stark reality where past and present images merged and became one.

      Panic born from fear lent her strength as she wrenched her mouth from his own, before she railed her fists against his shoulders in a bid to be free of him.

      The air in her lungs escaped in tortuous gasps as he released her, and she could only look at him in shocked dismay.

      Her lips parted, but no sound emerged, and she hugged her arms together, emotionally bereft and unable to control the way her body began to shake.

      Dear God. She wanted to run and hide, except escape wasn’t the answer. Hell…what could she say?

      Any explanation would take her to a place she didn’t want to go. Yet how could she not?

      Her eyes widened as Loukas lifted a hand, and she instinctively took a protective backward step…a reaction that brought his narrowed gaze.

      He caught the stark fear evident before she successfully masked it, and he fought against a silent rage as he reached for his discarded jacket and placed it carefully round her shoulders.

      ‘I’m sorry.’ Her voice was little more than a whisper as she instinctively caught the edges and hugged them close, barely registering the jacket was way too large on her slender frame.

      Not nearly as regretful as he felt, Loukas perceived. For more reasons than the one she presumably referred to. The ache in his groin would subside…eventually. Her issue with intimacy was something else.

      It placed a different emphasis on her previous short marriage, and he silently damned the man who’d clearly mistreated her.

      ‘I should have—’ she began, only to have him place a gentle finger over her lips to still anything further she might have uttered. Warned you, she finished silently, stricken with a host of ambivalent emotions, the overriding one being a mix of guilt and shame.

      ‘Don’t,’ he said quietly.

      She wanted to escape into the en suite, don nightwear, then slip beneath the bedcovers and summon sleep. Except her feet refused to obey the command of her brain.

      ‘I’ll go sleep in another room,’ Alesha offered, and felt the light brush of his fingers over her lips.

      ‘No.’

      How much would it take to lie in a bed barely a few metres from his own, and not be vividly aware of how close she’d come to the sexual act?

      To recall in intimate detail the touch of his mouth on her own, the trail of his hands, and how he’d aroused her emotions to fever pitch.

      Until she’d freaked out.

      Oh, СКАЧАТЬ