by Sarah Morgan
She felt his hardness and his heat and then felt his muscles bunch as her frantic convulsions propelled him to his own climax. She felt his fingers dig into her scalp, felt the liquid pulse of his release as he powered into her, driven over the edge by the living force they’d created between them.
Locked in the throes of pleasure which refused to diminish, Alesia slid a hand over his muscled back, feeling the heat of his skin, the vital masculinity of the man, as he struggled to control his breathing.
His weight crushed her to the bed, his body still locked with hers in the most intimate way possible, and it crossed her mind that this was the closest she’d ever felt to anyone in her life. They were connected in every sense of the word.
For a long moment Alesia lay still, utterly stunned by what had happened.
Never in her wildest dreams or fantasies had she imagined that it would be like that.
That two human beings could be so close.
With a brief frown of confusion she lifted a hand hesitantly and touched his bronzed shoulder.
What had happened?
She’d started out hating him, and now—
She swallowed hard and tried to make sense of what had just happened. Sifting through her tangled emotions, suddenly she couldn’t find the hatred any more. How could you share such intimacies with someone and hate them?
And surely he couldn’t hate her, either? How could something so perfect have been created out of hate? It wasn’t possible—
She felt something inside her melt away, leaving her exposed and vulnerable but she didn’t care. She’d discovered something that she hadn’t known existed. Something amazing.
Guilt and confusion mingled inside her. They’d shared something really honest and yet she’d told him such lies. What would he say if he knew the extent to which she was deceiving him?
Maybe she should tell him—
After what they’d shared, she needed to be honest.
Sebastien lifted his dark head and stared down at her flushed cheeks and bruised mouth for a long moment. Then he rolled on to his back and covered his face with a bronzed forearm.
Feeling suddenly awkward, Alesia lay still, suddenly impossibly shy, not wanting to be the first to speak. For a short time they’d been as close as two people could be. They’d shared something special and the whole world had shifted. Everything seemed different. He had to feel it too.
They had to speak about it. She had to tell him the truth.
Surely he’d say something in a moment.
‘It looks as though I’m going to get my money’s worth.’ His tone was cool and matter-of-fact.
Without so much as a glance in her direction, he sprang out of bed with the lithe grace of a jungle cat and strolled into the bathroom, slamming the door behind him, leaving her rigid with shock.
Sebastien stood under the shower trying to recover from what had proved to be the most explosive sexual encounter of his entire life. His usually sharp mind was foggy and his body throbbed in a state of almost agonized arousal. Breathing heavily, he eyed the door of the bathroom, torn between a primitive need to satisfy his libido and a desire to regain some sort of control over his unusually scattered emotions.
He wasn’t used to feeling like this.
With an exclamation of disbelief he thumped the button on the wall and turned the water into an icy blast. He gritted his teeth and let the water sluice over his thoroughly overheated body, seeking relief from his state of almost intolerable discomfort.
It was either that or return to the bed and make love to her again and again and again and that wasn’t what this marriage was about.
He hadn’t expected to derive much pleasure from the experience.
Irritated beyond belief by her total obsession with money, he’d taken her to bed to make her feel cheap, to see if he could trigger any signs of conscience.
He hadn’t expected her reaction to him to be so totally uninhibited. Hadn’t expected the chemistry between them to be so powerful.
And he hadn’t expected her to be a virgin.
Cursing fluently he turned off the water, swept a bronzed hand over his face to clear his vision and reached for a towel. He was a man who was used to always being in control and while he’d been in bed with Alesia he definitely hadn’t been. The knowledge that his loss of control had been with a woman whose values he despised made his response even more reprehensible in his opinion.
Or did it? Was it really so surprising that he’d found the encounter almost unbelievably erotic? he wondered. The women he usually spent time with moved in the same circles as him, were sophisticated and sexually experienced. Sebastien gave a wry smile of self-mockery as he wrapped the towel around his lean hips. At what point had he lost sight of the truth? That, when all was said and done, he was, in fact, a very traditional Greek male and like all traditional men he preferred exclusivity when it came to women.
It hadn’t occurred to him that his new wife might be a virgin and the truth was that her innocence in the bedroom had somehow served to heighten the emotional and physical experience. Given that it wasn’t an encounter he intended to repeat in the near future, he didn’t need to worry.
Having rationalized his response to his satisfaction, Sebastien glanced warily at the door that led to the bedroom.
He’d get on with his own life, leaving her to spend his money. And if she wasn’t already pregnant then he’d sleep with her again at some point.
It was a good job that he was likely to be kept extremely busy for the foreseeable future.
Alesia lay still, eyes tightly closed, physically drained and enveloped by a humiliation so acute that she could barely bring herself to address what had happened.
How could he be so hurtful?
And to think she’d almost told him the truth.
She groaned as she remembered her own reaction to him. She’d had no idea it would be like that. That she was capable of such intensity of feeling. None of the limited experience she’d had before had prepared her for such a scenario.
How could she have responded so wildly to a man that she didn’t even like?
She covered her face with her arms.
And how was she ever going to look him in the face again?
For him it had clearly just been sex, whereas for her—Remembering how she’d sobbed his name and virtually begged, she gave another whimper of disbelief. There was no escaping the fact that she’d inadvertently given him yet more ammunition to feed his already monumental ego.
She lay in the bed, listening to the sound of the shower, dreading the moment when the water stopped. She didn’t want to be here when he came back. Didn’t want to give him the chance to humiliate her still further.
But before she could move the bathroom door opened and he strolled out, wearing nothing but a narrow towel tucked loosely around his lean hips.
Now what?
Was he planning on returning to the marital bed?
Against her will, her eyes fastened on the dark hair on his chest and travelled downwards, knowing exactly what exciting secrets the towel concealed.
Her mouth dried and she felt the immediate response of her own body.
She ached in places she’d never ached before and when he casually dropped the towel on the floor and strolled towards her, a vision of bronzed, masculine perfection, her heart thundered in delicious anticipation.
Unable to drag her eyes away from his magnificent body, Alesia struggled to breathe. How could she not have noticed before how staggeringly good-looking he was?
And how could he be so relaxed and at ease when her entire body was humming with tension?
Didn’t he feel it too?
He strolled to the edge of the bed, cast her a sweeping glance from under thick black lashes and then reached for his Rolex which he’d left on the bedside table.
It was only when he turned away from her that she realized she’d been holding her breath.
She stared at him as he walked ba
ck across the room and started to dress and the question spilled out before she could stop it. ‘Are you coming back to bed?’
‘For what purpose?’ His tone was bored and he didn’t even glance in her direction as he finished dressing. ‘This was business, remember, and for now at least that part of our business is concluded.’
‘And that’s it?’ Her voice was barely a whisper as she sat up, clutching the silk sheets to her breasts. ‘That’s all you’re going to say?’
He paused in the doorway, his lean, strong face displaying not one flicker of emotion as he studied her in brooding contemplation. ‘Let me know if you’re pregnant.’
With that he strolled out of the room and let the door swing closed behind him.
Soaked in humiliation, Alesia sank back against the pillows.
How could he be so totally cold and unfeeling? Such an utter bastard?
Almost screaming with anger and frustration, she rolled over to try and ease the maddening ache in her body and gritted her teeth.
It didn’t matter what he said or how he touched her, she was never letting him back in her bed again!
CHAPTER FIVE
TWO weeks later Alesia was in the enormous kitchen at the far end of the house when Sebastien came striding into the room, simmering with barely restrained masculine aggression, a thunderous look on his handsome face.
‘What the hell are you doing in here?’ In raw frustration he raked lean bronzed fingers through sleek, dark hair and inhaled deeply. ‘I have been searching everywhere for you. No one had a clue where you were.’
Sexual awareness shot through her body and Alesia dug her nails into her palms.
Two weeks.
It had been two whole weeks since she’d last laid eyes on him and, like a young puppy seeing his master after a long separation, her quivering, yearning body just exploded with excitement.
One greedy, tentative glance at that lean, handsome face with its fierce, dark eyes and blue-shadowed jaw was enough to make Alesia’s stomach drop and her pulse rate double. One glance and she remembered every frantic, hot, seductive moment of the way this man made love. And, if that wasn’t bad enough, her whole being just lifted with happiness because he was finally, finally home.
Appalled by the strength of her reaction to him, she turned towards the fridge, hiding her face. She couldn’t help the way she felt about him but at least she refused to give him the satisfaction of showing him, she thought grimly. He’d already made his thoughts on the subject clear, having slept with her once and then absented himself for two whole weeks. Clearly their one sexual encounter had bored him in the extreme, whereas her complete lack of experience and sophistication meant that she’d left him in no doubt whatsoever that he was a God in the bedroom. The knowledge that she’d held nothing back made her squirm with bone-deep humiliation.
She wished she could put the clock back. Two weeks ago she hadn’t even noticed his firm, sexy mouth, the seductive glint in his Mediterranean dark eyes or the perfect musculature of his powerful body. She hadn’t noticed the superb bone structure or the slightly cynical smile that turned heads everywhere he went. She hadn’t noticed him as a man. Now she noticed everything and every feminine part of her shrieked in recognition of his raw, untamed masculinity.
‘Naturally I didn’t know that you were searching for me,’ she said coolly, poking around in the fridge until she was confident that her betraying colour had subsided. Only when she was sure that she was in control did she remove some cheese and a bowl of glossy dark olives from the fridge and place them on the table. ‘And in answer to your question, I’m making myself lunch.’
He strolled into the room and glanced at her with naked incredulity. ‘Why?’
Because she’d never had access to so much delicious food in her life and it was just marvellous not to go hungry in order to save money.
She shrugged. ‘Why not?’
‘Because I have an extensive and well-rewarded staff,’ he said slowly, enunciating his words as if he were addressing a child, his astonishment palpable, ‘and their job is to produce meals for you so that you don’t have to take an inconvenient break in your shopping schedule.’
She flinched at his cutting remark. His opinion of her was just so low. But could she really blame him for that? After all, she was the one who’d given him that impression and had to continue to do so. ‘I have all the time I need to shop,’ she said idly, ‘given that I haven’t seen you since our wedding day. And your staff have got better things to do than make me lunch.’
He was looking at her with a stunned expression on his handsome face.
‘I don’t know why you’re looking at me like that.’ She glanced impatiently in his direction. ‘Have you never made yourself lunch before?’
‘Frankly, no,’ he confessed drily, a strange expression in his eyes as he looked at her. ‘And I hadn’t exactly expected you to either. Do you often waltz into your grandfather’s kitchen and make yourself lunch?’
Alesia froze. She’d done it again. Had forgotten that she was supposed to be rich and pampered. Then she gave a mental shrug.
‘I don’t expect people to wait on me.’ Aware that he was looking at her curiously, she sighed and rolled her eyes. ‘Now what?’
‘It’s just that you constantly surprise me,’ he drawled softly, his gaze speculative. ‘Just when I think I have you all worked out, you do something that is totally out of character.’
She cast him a look of contempt. ‘You know nothing about my character.’
‘Evidently not,’ he murmured, his shimmering dark eyes narrowed as he surveyed her thoughtfully. ‘However, I think our staff might be a little shocked if they discover you in here, making lunch.’
Alesia bit her lip and refrained from telling him that she was already on first-name terms with his head chef and that they’d swapped Greek and English recipes. ‘They’re your staff.’
‘You’re my wife.’
Her body tingled at his silky reminder. ‘Forgive me for forgetting that fact,’ she said acidly. ‘I haven’t seen you since our wedding day two weeks ago. I assumed you’d taken up residence elsewhere.’
And she just hated him for not even bothering to show his face.
‘I didn’t realize you were going to miss me so much and it was our wedding night,’ he corrected softly, studying her through narrowed eyes. ‘You saw me on our wedding night. Another occasion when you surprised me. I wasn’t expecting a virgin in my bed.’
Her cheeks flamed. ‘I don’t know what you mean—’
‘You should have told me,’ he said smoothly. ‘Greek men are very possessive, agape mou. I might have been prepared to raise the purchase price still further had I realized the unique value of the goods. You missed out.’
She winced at his mercenary assessment of her character. ‘I was satisfied with the deal.’
His eyes glittered in his handsome face. ‘I’m beginning to think that I might be too,’ he drawled, stepping closer to her. ‘You were amazingly responsive.’
Graphic images flashed through her brain and her legs started to tremble as the memories came crashing back.
‘You paid me to perform in your bed,’ she said unsteadily, ‘so that’s what I did.’
He gave a short laugh and moved closer still. ‘You were totally out of control, agape mou, and you expect me to believe that you were acting?’
He was too close. She couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think.
She wasn’t used to dealing with men like him. She wasn’t used to talking about sex.
Careful not to look at him, she sliced the cheese into chunks and laid it in a bowl. ‘It wasn’t my choice to introduce sex into our marriage. I was perfectly happy to have a very different sort of marriage.’
‘One where I pay you to do nothing?’
‘You weren’t paying me for sex,’ she said steadily, adding olives to the bowl. ‘You were paying me for the “privilege” of taking over my grandfather’s company.’
>
‘It might interest you to know that that particular “privilege” has taken up every daylight hour since our wedding,’ he drawled, his eyes raking over her in frowning contemplation. ‘Your grandfather is an appalling businessman. You can blame him for the fact that you haven’t seen me.’
‘I’d rather thank him,’ she said, putting the finishing touches to her salad and lifting the bowl. ‘I had no desire to spend any time with you at all. And now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m planning to go and eat my lunch.’
And phone her mother.
That had been one of the major benefits of Sebastien’s long absence. She’d been in daily contact and was following her mother’s progress anxiously.
‘No.’ His voice was lethally soft as he lifted the bowl from her clutching fingers and returned it to the table. ‘I do not excuse you.’
She made the mistake of looking at him. Stormy blue eyes clashed with smouldering black and instantly the breath caught in her chest.
The look in his eyes was intensely sexual and she could see that his mind most certainly wasn’t on anything as boring as lunch.
His eyes moved from hers, lingering on the full curve of her breasts and then sliding down to rest on her smooth, flat stomach exposed by her hipster jeans. ‘Don’t wear trousers again. You have great legs. I want to see them—’
‘You are such a chauvinist,’ she flung at him, her cheeks flaming with colour at his remark. ‘Do you always tell women what to wear?’
‘Women don’t usually go out with me looking as though they’re about to unblock a drain.’
‘I like my jeans. They’re comfortable.’
‘So is underwear,’ he said silkily, his lashes lowering as he gave her a look of pure sexual speculation. ‘And that would be my preference.’
Knees shaking, she put a hand on the table for support. ‘I’ll wear what I want to wear—’
‘Not in my company,’ he said, his tone suddenly icy. ‘You’ll wear what I want to see you in.’