Mediterranean Mavericks: Greeks. Кейт Хьюит

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      The hotel was in silence when they returned. For the first time Christian regretted having the entire complex to themselves. There was no one—other than the handful of duty staff—to distract his attention away from Alessandra.

      His fiancée.

      She’d taken the hint and stopped digging for information on his past, although something in her eyes had warned him not to expect her silence to last for long. Instead, they had relaxed into easy conversation, just as they had on their one real date together. As on that night in Milan, he’d found his eyes drawn to her lips. They fascinated him. She fascinated him.

      What was it with this woman? he wondered as they climbed the private lift to the top floor. His awareness of her was off the charts. His body reacted to everything, from the way her mouth moved to her husky laugh, to the way she smoothed her hair back to keep it from her face.

      Alessandra’s eyes had been as firmly fixed on him as his had been on her. She hadn’t drunk any alcohol but he recognised the signs of inhibitions loosening. Just as they had that night in Milan.

      He would not act on it. Not tonight. Not until they were legally man and wife.

       Man and wife.

      Three words he would never have put together with himself and, he knew, Alessandra would never have put with herself.

      If he were being honest, he would have to admit that, if someone had put a gun against his head and said he had to choose one woman of all the women he’d been with to marry and have a baby with, Alessandra would have topped the list. All the other women had been fun and flirty but without an ounce of substance. Exactly the way he’d liked them. No commitment, no emotions. No chance of them falling in love and that love turning into bitterness.

      Alessandra had a fun and flirty streak in her but she also had substance by the barrel. Her emotions were right there on the surface, no pretence, no subterfuge and, Theos, she was sexier than any mortal had a right to be.

      He’d spent half the evening fantasising about those luscious lips.

      They reached the door to her suite.

      ‘Thank you for a lovely evening,’ she said, leaning against the wall by the door. Her eyes were wide; even under the soft lighting he could see the dilation of her pupils.

      ‘It’s been my pleasure.’

      And it had been.

      He didn’t want the evening to end.

      What was there to stop him leaning in for a kiss?

      Nothing.

      Except he’d given his word that nothing physical would happen between them again until they were legally married and he would keep that promise even if his testicles exploded with frustration.

      ‘Are you working tomorrow?’ She rubbed a hand up her arm, the movement pushing her breasts together. The image of dusky pink nipples immediately floated into his mind and with it came the thickening of his blood he was fast associating to feeling when with her.

      He had to assume it was a simple case of forbidden fruit tasting sweeter. Like the child in the sweet shop who had no money and salivated over every piece of delicious confectionery on offer.

      ‘Yes. Some of our guests are arriving in the evening. I should be back to greet them with you.’

      ‘I guess this will be the first public display of our love and unity,’ she said, an ironic smile whispering across her face.

      He palmed her cheek and rubbed his thumb over the soft skin. He could do that much without breaking his vow. ‘Can you handle it?’

      ‘Can you?’

      ‘For the sake of our child, yes, I can.’

      Her eyes held his. She raised a hand and pressed it to his fingers still resting against her cheek. ‘Then I can too.’

      Alessandra was certain he was going to kiss her. She recognised the look in his eyes, the desire in them that darkened the blue. She’d seen that look before, right before she’d pressed her lips to his in her apartment…

      He stepped away before either of them had the chance to act on it, dragging his thumb down her cheek one last time.

      ‘Sleep well, agapi mou,’ he said, bowing his head, then turning on his heel and striding down the corridor to his own suite.

      She didn’t know if the breath she expelled was one of relief or disappointment.