Modern Romance July 2015 Books 1-4. Maisey Yates

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      He nodded. ‘Alek had been brought up by my father—a very different kind of upbringing from mine. I had him tracked down and I met him in Paris.’ It had been that meeting which had made Loukas decide to lay all of his ghosts to rest. To make him want to move on and live his life in a different way. And hadn’t Jess been the most persistent ghost of them all—the one who had hovered on the periphery of his mind like some pale and interesting beauty?

      ‘How...’ her voice trembled ‘...how can you possibly have discovered that you have a twin? Why didn’t your mother ever tell you?’

      ‘Because my father was powerful,’ he said. ‘And she was running away from him. She couldn’t physically—or financially—take two tiny babies, so she chose to leave Alek.’

      ‘How? How did she choose?’

      He shook his head. ‘Doesn’t matter how. She knew she could never go back and so she decided to cut out that part of her life completely. To pretend it had never happened.’ He gave a short laugh. ‘And if I’m being objective, I think I can almost understand why. Far better to cut her losses and run, than to face up to the fact that she’d left her other son with a cruel tyrant.’

      ‘Oh, Loukas.’

      She reached her hand towards his face as if to stroke his cheek but he caught her wrist in an iron-hard grip of his own. Turning her palm upwards, he ran his tongue slowly over the salty flesh, his eyes never leaving her face.

      ‘I don’t want your pity, Jess,’ he said softly. ‘That’s not the reason I told you.’

      She trembled beneath the lick of his tongue. ‘Why did you tell me?’

      He thought about it. It was more a question of why he had kept it hidden before but now he could see that he had been ashamed. Ashamed of the circumstances which had forged him. So hungry for his cool and classy Englishwoman that he had cultured a deliberate elusiveness, so that she would accept him for his present, and not his past.

      But she had not accepted him at all. He had still not been good enough and maybe for someone like her, he never would be.

      He didn’t answer her question, but fixed her with a steady gaze. He remembered the way she’d breathlessly whispered that she loved him and how, for a short while, he had believed her. But words were easy, weren’t they? His mother used to profess love, then leave him alone and frightened while she went out with her latest man. ‘Why did you turn down my proposal?’ he said suddenly.

      She bit her lip and looked down at the rumpled sheets. ‘Because...because I thought you were doing it to be chivalrous. To save me from my father’s anger.’

      ‘First time in my life I’ve ever been called chivalrous,’ he said sardonically. ‘But I don’t think you’re being entirely honest, are you, Jess? Maybe you did it to protect your fortune from a man who had nothing—who might want to marry you for all the wrong reasons?’ he said, and the faint flush of colour to her cheeks told him everything he wanted to know.

      ‘Well, there was that too,’ she admitted haltingly, lifting her eyes to his as if she should be applauded for her honesty.

      Loukas gave a bitter laugh. She had looked on him as someone with an eye for the main chance—able to provide her with sex, but best kept at arm’s length when it came to permanency, or commitment.

      And wasn’t it crazy that even now it still hurt to realise that?

      He didn’t handle pain well. Physical pain was no problem, but emotional pain he found unendurable and he’d learnt that there was only one way to guarantee immunity. Don’t get involved. Don’t let anyone close enough to inflict it. It was a simple but effective rule as long as you stuck to it. And with Jess he’d been stupid enough to take his eye off the ball for a while.

      ‘But you know something?’ he questioned. ‘You did me a kind of favour, in a way. I realised that marriage was completely wrong for someone like me.’

      ‘Is that why you’ve never settled down with anyone else? Why you still live in luxury hotels, instead of having a real home?’

      ‘Neh.’ He gave a soft, cynical laugh. ‘I’ve grown used to my life. I wouldn’t have it any other way.’

      ‘And children? What about them?’

      ‘What about them? Why the hell would I want to bring children in the world, just to screw them up? I know what that’s like and so does my twin brother.’

      ‘Right,’ she said uncertainly.

      He thought he could see a flicker of darkness in her eyes—as if his words were hurting her. As if she wanted to reach out and stroke his pain away. And he didn’t need that. He didn’t need her sympathy, or understanding. He didn’t want her looking at him as if he were a puzzle she could solve, because he was fine just the way he was. He didn’t want her making him feel stuff, because life was so much easier when you didn’t. There were a million things he didn’t want from her and only one thing he did.

      He pulled her closer, so that he could feel the warm softness of her skin. Her face was turned up to his and her lips were eagerly parted, and for a while he just teased her. He brushed his mouth over hers—back and forth—until she made a sound halfway between frustration and desire. Sliding her hand around the back of his neck, she pulled him down towards her and he felt a heady rush of sexual power as she clung to him.

      This, he thought, just before he kissed her—this was all he wanted from Jessica Cartwright.

       CHAPTER EIGHT

      WHAT A DIFFERENCE a day could make. Or a night. A night when Loukas had seemed determined to show Jessica everything she’d been missing.

      Sex.

      Her throat dried.

      A devastating masterclass in desire and satisfaction.

      She had hardly slept a wink and by rights she should have felt terrible when she met the crew to resume shooting the following morning. But terrible was the last thing she felt. She felt alive. As if all her senses had suddenly exploded. The diamonds, which yesterday had hung like a millstone around her neck, today made her feel pampered and decadent as they glittered against her skin—and the close-fitting silk of her bodice no longer felt constricting. She was conscious of the way it clung to her breasts—thrusting them upwards and giving her a bit of a cleavage and reminding her of the way Loukas had licked his way over every inch of them during the sensual night they’d shared.

      ‘Wow,’ said the photographer softly as she stood in the gondola—only today she had no trouble keeping her balance, despite the rocking motion of the distinctive craft. And when she was told to pout and look dreamy, she had no problem with that, either. In fact, it was difficult to look anything but dreamy when all she could think about was the man whose black eyes had grown opaque and smoky as he had lowered his head to kiss her.

      But kisses could blind you to the reality and she had to keep reminding herself that it had only been about sex—because how could it ever be anything else? He’d made it clear that experience had hardened him. That he had changed and now there was СКАЧАТЬ