The Royal House Of Karedes Collection Books 1-12. Кейт Хьюит

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      Aegeus looked at her. A shadow seemed to pass over his face.

      “I hope not,” he said, and strode away.

      They drove back to the mansion in silence.

      The gates swung open; the Ferrari purred down the long drive. When they reached the house, Alex turned off the engine, stepped from the car, opened Maria’s door and thought what an amazing woman she was.

      Bright. Talented. Strong.

      And lovely.

      Incredibly lovely, in the moonlight.

      She would be even more lovely in his bed.

      Naked. Her eyes on his as he undressed. Her arms reaching for him as he came to her and she would reach for him, he would find a way to make her admit how much she wanted him—and yet, at this moment, what he wanted most was to kiss away the worried furrow between her eyes, the sad little down-curve of her mouth.

      He held out his hand. “We’re home,” he said softly.

      She nodded, took his hand and stepped from the car.

      “Your father will probably send me back to the States tomorrow.”

      Alex smiled. “No danger of that,” he said as they walked to the door. “He’s trapped. My mother, clever woman that she is, reminded him that the world will be watching when she celebrates her birthday.”

      “Don’t try and make it sound as if I didn’t behave foolishly!”

      “The word I’d use is ‘bravely.’”

      “I don’t know what got into me. It’s just—”

      “What got into you,” he said, turning her to him, “was all that fiery passion you do your best to hide.”

      “I don’t hide anything. I just—”

      “And you do a pretty good job of it—until something comes along and heats your blood.” He opened the door to the sleeping house, then turned toward her again and caught a cluster of silky curls in his fingers. “Tonight, it was the ridiculous behavior of a king.”

      “No. I mean, I only—”

      “And your dedication to your art.”

      “That’s—that’s nice of you to say, but I made everyone uncomfortable——”

      “And me.” His voice roughened. He cupped the nape of her neck, slipped his fingers into her hair and tilted her face to his. “I heat your blood, agapimeni. As you heat mine.”

      He bent his head and kissed her. It was a gentle kiss, the soft whisper of his lips over hers, but it made him groan.

      “Maria,” he said softly, and he felt her tremble. “Maria,” he said again, and her arms rose, wound around his neck; she lifted herself to him, sighed his name and when he kissed her again he went deep. Deeper, letting the taste of her fill his senses, the feel of her feed his soul…

      And he knew, without question, that he could not, would not hold her to the devil’s bargain they’d made.

      Gently, he cupped her face and drew back. Her eyes opened slowly; she looked up at him, her pupils dark and wide and blurred with desire or perhaps with tears. It killed him that he couldn’t tell the difference.

      “It’s late,” he said. “Too late to discuss this tonight.” His gaze fell to her lips. He longed to kiss her again but he wouldn’t. He wouldn’t. He wouldn’t. “Can you find your way to your bedroom alone?”

      “But I thought—You said—”

      “I know what I said.” He drew a ragged breath and then, to hell with it, he kissed her. “I’m not a saint, Maria,” he whispered against her mouth, “but it turns out that I’m not quite the bastard we both thought.”

      A sound that might have been a sob broke from her throat. “I don’t understand, Alexandros. What is it you want from me?”

      He shook his head, left her standing alone as he headed out into the night.

      He didn’t know what he wanted from her.

      And that was the whole damned problem.

       CHAPTER NINE

      WHAT did a man do when he was obviously losing his sanity?

      It had to be that because he sure as hell wasn’t into martyrdom, Alex thought as he paced through the dark garden. Maybe he deserved a medal. Better still, maybe he should get his head checked by a shrink because right now, right now, instead of burning with frustration, he could be bedding the woman he’d brought across an ocean for expressly that purpose.

      Maria had been his. His for the taking.

      And he’d walked away.

      “Idiot,” he said, kicking a stone out of the path.

      Walked away, and for what reason? She’d been as ready for sex as he was. She wasn’t an innocent. Nothing he’d have done would have shocked her.

      Alex glared at the house where a light still burned in his bedroom window. He could be in the house, in that room in less than a minute.

      Forget it.

      He’d made his decision. For tonight, anyway. Going back would be an admission of weakness, never mind that he didn’t really know what in hell he meant by that, except that he knew it would be.

      He needed sex, not Maria. That put things in perspective.

      He was aroused. No problem. There were ways to deal with it. Phone one of the numbers programmed into his cell phone. There were half a dozen beautiful women who’d jump at the chance to spend the night with him. Or he could drive back into town. The bar at The Grand Hotel saw more than its share of gorgeous women, tourists hoping for a little adventure.

      Except, he didn’t want another woman, and wasn’t that a laugh? He wanted Maria and he’d just walked away from her.

      Alex kicked another stone and headed for his Ferrari.

      He roared out of the gates, took the coast road at a speed that sent him flying past the few startled drivers on the road at this late hour. When he reached the point at which the already narrow, winding road grew more treacherous, he floored the gas pedal and the car careered through the turns like the thoroughbred it was.

      Maybe that would burn away the hunger thrumming through his blood.

      It didn’t.

      Two hours later, he pulled through the gates of the mansion again and skidded to a stop with Maria still in his head. Images. Memories. Tastes and scents, all of them conspiring against СКАЧАТЬ