Irresistible Greeks: Unsuitable and Unforgettable. Jane Porter

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      She moved her hands around to his chest, toyed with the first button on his dress shirt. He growled, a masculine, feral sound that she’d never associated with sex, but that made her entire body tighten with need.

      Being with Stavros wouldn’t be like any experience she’d had before. Not even close. Being with Stavros would be …

      A really bad idea.

      She froze, their lips still connected, her fingers curled into the fabric on his shirt. “Stop,” she said.

      He did. Immediately. He moved away from her, his expression as dazed as she felt. “That’s not what I came up here for.”

      “What did you come up here for?” she asked, her words shaky, her entire body shaky.

      “I … don’t know.” He sounded shocked. Dumbfounded. She wasn’t sure if it was a comfort or an insult.

      “But not for … that?”

      He shook his head. “I’d ruled that out as a possibility.”

      “But you’d … thought about it?”

      “Not a good question.”

      “You’re right about that.”

      He took a step away from her. “It’s understandable that we’re attracted to each other.”

      “Totally,” she said.

      “But that doesn’t mean we can act on it.”

      “No,” she said, while her body screamed at her to change her answer.

      And what would happen if she did? Professional suicide. And for what?

      Sex for her had become all about failure. About shortcomings. All of hers on display when she was literally naked and as vulnerable as she could possibly be. She couldn’t get pregnant. She couldn’t even orgasm properly. As her husband had told her during one particularly ugly argument, there was literally no point in having sex with her. He’d said at the time his right hand was better company.

      “I’m sorry.”

      “Oh, don’t,” she said, her lip curling in disgust, her body rebelling. “Don’t apologize for kissing me, please, that’s just … I’m not going to let you do that. Act like there was something … wrong with it.” There was always something wrong.

      “It was inappropriate.”

      Annoyance spiked inside her. “You’re acting like you compromised my maidenly virtue, or something. That’s long gone so you don’t need to worry.”

      “You are working for me right now.”

      “Not exactly.”

      “No matter what, it was wrong of me to do it. You’re trying to help me find a wife, I’m paying you to do it. I have no right to charge in your room and kiss you.”

      “I kissed you back,” she said, crossing her arms beneath her breasts, unwilling, unable to back down. Because she would not be treated like she was a victim in this. She was tired of being a victim. And she would not show him how much she was affected by it, either.

      His expression was almost pained. “Don’t remind me.”

      “That good?”

      “If you keep talking I’ll be tempted to kiss you again simply to quiet you down.”

      “You say the sweetest things, Prince Stavros. I am pudding at your feet.” Oh, she could have cried. She was so relieved to have those sassy words fall out of her mouth. She needed them. Needed the distance and protection they would provide.

      His jaw tensed, his lips, so soft and sensual a moment before, thinned. “You are … infuriating.”

      “And you like it,” she said. “Wonder what that says about you?”

      For a moment, he looked like he might grab her again. Might pull her up against his hard body and press his lips to hers.

      Instead, he turned away from her.

      “I’m going to call the girls. See when they can come out here. You’re paying, naturally,” she said. She didn’t know why she’d chosen to tell him that. Only that the temptation to make him stay a bit longer had been stronger than it should have been.

      He stopped and turned. “Naturally.”

      “See you tomorrow then.”

      “I’ll be busy.”

      “So will I. I have other clients to do consultations with.” She was still stalling. Still trying to keep him close.

      He ignored her last statement and turned away again, heading down the hall. She let out a breath and walked back into her room, shutting the door behind her.

      She picked up her iPad and opened up her file for Stavros.

      Good kisser. Amazing body.

      She deleted both as soon as she wrote them. If only she could delete it from her memory so easily.

CHAPTER SIX

      THE women had arrived. Victoria, Amy and Cherry. Beautiful, polished and royal. They were wearing sleek, expensive-looking clothing, their hair perfectly coiffed, their makeup expertly applied.

      They were perfectly beautiful. Perfectly boring.

      Stavros surveyed the three women in their spot on the balcony. He felt like he was being featured on a bad reality television show. It was suddenly hard to breathe.

      He’d been around some in his thirty-three years. Some people might call him a playboy, he preferred to think he was taking advantage of the physical while ignoring the emotional. Even so, facing three women who had marriage on their minds was out of his realm of experience.

      Jessica was not out there with him, not there to run interference and give him a time limit for how long each woman could speak to him.

      Victoria spoke first. “It’s nice to meet you,” she said. “I apologize if you weren’t expecting me … us.” He could tell she was irritated to be sharing the terrace with the other two women, who clearly felt the same way she did.

      “Of course you were expected,” he said, opting for diplomacy. Though he hoped, fervently, that they were staying at a hotel in Piraeus and not in the villa. Two was company, five would be a nightmare.

      Especially considering that kiss he’d shared with Jessica and all the options it was making him contemplate. Again.

      Victoria smiled, saccharine and a bit false, though, again given the situation, he hardly blamed her. His own smile was just as fake.

      Cherry—at СКАЧАТЬ