Modern Romance November 2019 Books 1-4. Эбби Грин

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СКАЧАТЬ ran through his big body as he tugged her panties down over her thighs and kicked them impatiently away, before dextrously disposing of her high heels and filmy stockings so that they ended up in a white heap on the floor? Lucy didn’t know and, right then, she didn’t particularly care because he was lifting her into his arms and carrying her over to the bed, laying her down in the centre of the vast mattress like a willing sacrifice. His gaze moved down over her body. He stroked his fingers over her breasts, her belly, her hips, his narrowing eyes noting the restless wriggle of her bare bottom against the duvet. And then he smiled.

      ‘Want me?’ he questioned softly.

      ‘You know I do,’ she whispered.

      He lay down on top of her, pushing her hair back from her flushed face before bending his head to kiss her. And as Lucy opened her eager lips to meet his, she felt a powerful wave of emotion rushing through her. Because this was the bit she remembered best. The sensation of his flesh pressing against hers. The long, drugging kisses and entwining of limbs and the feeling that this was somehow meant to be. Eagerly, she touched him back, and he moaned softly as she stroked him, and for a while they both seemed content with a rapt and silent rediscovery of each other’s bodies. And then suddenly the tempo seemed to change. Drakon’s body became taut as he captured her arms above her head and held them against the pillow, before pressing his mouth to her nipple so that she could feel the warmth of his breath against the erect skin.

      ‘Oh,’ she gasped softly.

      ‘I love your breasts, Lucy,’ he said huskily. ‘They’re so damned…big.’

      As if to illustrate his pleasure, he began licking what felt like every inch of her, making her squirm with helpless delight. And meantime his hand had slipped between her legs and was spreading open her thighs, one finger thrumming urgently against her creamy heat so that Lucy’s head fell back against the pillow. His rhythm was blissful and relentless—it rocketed her straight up to the stars and she came very quickly, her body arching beneath his hand as the spasms clenched low in her belly and then reverberated through her body like a sweet, spent storm. And when at last her eyelids fluttered open, it was to meet the black gleam of his penetrating gaze.

      ‘And I like watching you come,’ he observed throatily. ‘I like it when your body goes rigid and you make those gasping little sounds at the back of your throat.’

      These were starkly sensual statements which only an hour ago might have had her blushing like a schoolgirl, but not now—not when satisfaction was flooding through her still-pulsing body. Yet despite the intense pleasure which had transformed her, it wasn’t enough, Lucy decided. Not nearly enough. Because she was no longer just some random woman he’d ended up having unexpected sex with on his private Greek island. She was now his wife and she wanted him to make love to her properly. She wanted him inside her. Badly. Reaching her arms up around his neck, she pulled his head down, and as his lips met hers a restless heat begin to rise inside her once more. She heard him give a low laugh as his tongue slipped inside her mouth and he began to circle his hips in a provocative demonstration of his arousal, until she thought she would go crazy with longing.

      She realised he was rolling away from her and, for one illogical moment, wondered if her earlier fears had materialised and he was actually having second thoughts about consummating the marriage. But his reasoning was far more pragmatic than that. He was reaching for something on the bedside locker and Lucy swallowed when she saw what it was. A condom. Of course he would wear a condom. She could feel faint hysteria—and fear—spiral up inside her, because he’d told her he didn’t want any more children and he was just making sure that wouldn’t happen. He wasn’t to know that protection was completely unnecessary in her case, was he?

      ‘Drakon?’

      His eyes were smoky with lust as he turned round. ‘Ti?’

      ‘I’m… I’m on the pill.’

      He smiled approvingly as he dropped the condom back on the nightstand. ‘What excellent planning, my clever wife,’ he murmured. ‘That’s exactly as it should be.’

      Hysteria began to build again. Should she tell him she’d been on the pill for years because of her endometriosis? But by then he was rolling back towards her, pulling her into his arms with a groan of feral hunger, and Lucy could feel his naked hardness touching against her moist heat. He bent his dark head and was kissing her with a thoroughness which was making her heart want to burst out of her chest, because when he kissed her like that it felt like a fairy tale. And why would she risk destroying that by talking about her tragic gynaecological history at a time like this, when none of it related to their marriage plans?

      ‘Now,’ he breathed as he eased himself inside her. ‘Evge! You are so tight, Lucy. So very tight, my sweet little virgin.’

      ‘But I’m not…’ She gasped as he began to drive up deep inside her. ‘I’m not a virgin any more.’

      ‘Always,’ he contradicted as his body took on an exquisite rhythm. ‘Always to me.’

      Did his raw words intensify her pleasure? Possibly. Again, Lucy came very quickly and so did he—and all her fears about the amazing chemistry they shared being some sort of fluke were banished. Afterwards she lay sleepy and sated in his arms but she felt him stir almost immediately and they did it all over again. And again. They did it so many times that she lost count and she must have dozed off, because the next thing she knew she was being woken by the sound of Big Ben chiming out midnight. But as the last chime faded into the night, Lucy knew she had to ask him the question which was still gnawing away at her—because otherwise wouldn’t she just keep torturing herself with fevered imaginings?

      She waited until he had poured two glasses of champagne and brought them back to bed, but her own drink lay untouched on the nightstand as she glanced over at Drakon’s autocratic profile. He had picked up his phone and was reading something off the screen and Lucy cleared her throat, trying to make her words sound as nonchalant as possible. ‘You seem very close to Amy,’ she observed.

      ‘Mmm…’ he said absently as he put the phone back on the locker, screen side down. ‘We’ve known each other a long time.’

       Make it casual. All you’re doing is finding out a bit more about him and the people in his life.

      She tried to keep her voice bright but her words sounded as forced as the last bit of toothpaste you tried to squeeze from the tube. ‘So how did you first get into partnership with her?’

      There was a pause as he turned to look at her, his black gaze mocking. ‘You really want to talk about this right now?’

      Of course she didn’t. She wanted him to put his glass down and pull her into his arms and tell her he was starting to fall in love with her, but that was never going to happen, not in a million years. And in the meantime she had to face down her nameless fears or allow them to grow. To grow and run the risk of dominating her thoughts and ruining her relationship, even if it was a relationship which fell short of her dreams. ‘I’m just interested,’ she said blandly. ‘And as your wife, it’s useful if I find out as much as I can about you. There’s loads about your past which is a mystery to me.’

      Drakon took a sip of champagne and leaned back against the bank of feathered pillows. He didn’t particularly feel like talking—but the sex had been so damned hot that he was feeling unusually accommodating towards his new bride. ‘Me and Amy,’ he mused. ‘I guess it was one of those lucky meetings.’

      ‘Sort of…star-crossed?’ she ventured casually.

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