British Bachelors & Conveniently Bedded Bundle

by Helen Brooks, Maggie Cox, Natalie Anderson, Anna Cleary

  He hesitated a moment, then to her relief made for his armchair, dropping into it and stretching out his long legs with idle ease.

  Burningly aware of seeming like a craven coward, she attempted some light conversation. ‘Er… Is this your primary residence, or just a beach villa?’

  Amusement tinged his expression, but he replied with solemn politeness, ‘Both. You get a better night-sky out here. Not that I’m always in residence. In recent months I’ve often needed to work so late I’ve found it easier to stay over at the office.’

  ‘Oh.’ She seized on the potential escape hatch and said eagerly, ‘Well, if you’d rather do that tonight, don’t you worry about me. I can look after myself.’

  His brows shot up and his eyes gleamed. ‘But it’s your wedding night, Ariadne.’

  She flashed him a brilliant smile. ‘I know, but, heavens, I’m not so hung up on all those old traditions. If you need to go somewhere and do things with your satellites, go right ahead.’

  His brows drew together, and he said silkily, ‘There are some traditions that shouldn’t be ignored.’ His sexy, heavy-lidded gaze flickered over her face, and she realised she might have given away her very slight case of nerves.

  A kiss, even a very hot kiss, was one thing, especially if it happened unexpectedly. A woman’s natural instincts took over. But a wedding night was something else again. Something official, formal, that required a certain poise and graceful expertise. Should she inform him she was a virgin, or would he just take it for granted? She had no idea what his attitudes were about such things, though last night he’d clearly expected her to be free and easy about sex. What if she confessed her inexperience and he laughed?

  She didn’t think she could bear it if he laughed. There were some things a woman just couldn’t discuss with a man.

  She felt so naive and out of her depth. And the nervier she felt, the more relaxed and idle he seemed to become. Maybe he wasn’t thinking about sex at all?

  She met his dark gaze then and a major earthquake rocked her insides. A lazy, wicked smile was touching his mouth, and she was reminded of a big patient panther in the mood for play. He was thinking about it, all right.

  ‘Now, what was it you wanted to talk about?’ His black lashes had developed a sleepy languor. ‘Can I get you something to help you relax? Some chocolate?’

  ‘No. No, thanks. I—don’t need to relax.’ She got off the sofa and started pacing about, clasping her hands in front of her. ‘Look, er, I’m not sure what you expect. I probably should explain that I’m…’ She was just winding up to expand on the difficult subject when her foot connected with something on the floor. She tripped, only just managing to maintain her balance.

  ‘Oh! Tsk.’ She glared down in irritation at a thick heavy book entitled Time Drag: Was Einstein Right? lying where some lazy person had left it by Sebastian’s armchair.

  He sprang up. ‘Sorry. That shouldn’t be there.’ He picked up the book and tossed it carelessly across the room onto a large pile stacked by an empty bookshelf. The pile collapsed and books scattered, sending up a mushroom cloud of dust.

  Besides the heaps of unshelved books, she noticed several paintings on the floor leaning against the wall, and a couple of packing crates he was using to prop up his stereo system. Momentarily distracted, she enquired, frowning, ‘How long since you moved in here?’

  He shrugged. ‘Oh, must be three years.’ He glanced about as if for the first time, looking rueful. ‘I guess I should have… I didn’t have a chance to warn Agnes I’d be bringing you home tonight. There should be flowers. Oh, and I meant to… These ought to be shelved.’

  He strolled across and gave the pile of books a desultory kick to shove them out of the way. More dust rose in the air.

  ‘Sorry.’ He gave an amused laugh. ‘Agnes doesn’t get time for the finer touches.’

  She delved into her purse for a tissue, and held it to her face until the dust settled. ‘How many staff do you have?’

  ‘Just Agnes.’

  ‘In this big house?’ She arched her brows. ‘Does Agnes have cooking duties as well?’

  He looked evasive. ‘Well, she has cooked, but…I don’t often eat here, anyway. I’m sure we can get her to rustle up some meals.’

  She felt curious to know what sort of relationship he had with his housekeeper if he wasn’t certain he could persuade her to cook. ‘Anyway,’ she murmured, almost to herself, ‘it doesn’t matter. Really. I’m hardly going to be here long enough to notice.’

  He turned and looked across at her, eyes glinting. Then he strolled back, determination in his smile. ‘We’ll see. No, no, not there, come and sit down here.’ She’d been about to relocate to the strategic safety of the other armchair, but he drew her inexorably back to the sofa, and dropped down beside her.

  ‘Now, what was it you wanted to chat about?’ He lounged back, angling his body to face her, one arm resting along the sofa back behind her. Absently, almost unconsciously, he began to caress her cheek with his lean, tanned fingers. ‘Was it something about your uncle and aunt?’

  She felt a wary surprise. ‘What about them?’

  ‘Well, you seemed a little reluctant to have them at your wedding.’

  ‘My convenient wedding.’

  He smiled. ‘I was surprised. I’d have thought you’d be pretty fond of them.’ The touch of his fingertips on her cheek caused a delicious tingling that radiated to her ear and down her neck.

  She lowered her lashes and crushed down the jagged spike in her private family emotional register. ‘I am fond of them.’

  ‘Aren’t you the apple of their eyes?’

  ‘Perhaps. Well, I was… Thought I was…’ She smiled to cover the unwelcome pricking at the backs of her eyes. ‘You can be mistaken about people. Even people you think you know very well.’

  He shot her a keen glance, and she had the mortified feeling her voice might have given her away. She prayed he hadn’t spotted the pathetic shimmer suddenly misting her vision. All at once she felt so weary, as if she were weighed down with all the miseries of the world. And she could feel the searchlight of his sharp intelligence probing her sad little secrets like a solar flare.

  But he said quietly, ‘Yeah, I guess. So…is there anything wrong over there with your family? Anything worrying you?’

  As if she could tell him any of that. Theos, he’d done the trading deal with her uncle. They were probably in daily communication. Sure, Sebastian Nikosto looked reassuringly strong, and right now sympathetic and sincere, but he was the last person on the planet she could trust. No, the third last. No, no, she reflected with a dreary sigh. She’d been forgetting Demetri. Fourth last.

  ‘Wasn’t there something you wanted to tell me?’

  She crashed back to earth. ‘Oh, right. Well. I—I think we need to discuss… I think you know… You—you should know…’ His fingers traced a soft searing trail down the side of her neck. Should she have stopped him? Though he might not have been conscious of it, she was. But it was only a caress, barely that. A harmless, friendly caress. It wasn’t as if it were anything sexual.

  ‘You do know this is just a marriage of convenience.’ She swallowed. ‘In fact…I—I’m not sure we’re properly married at all.’ She couldn’t help closing her eyes briefly to savour the ongoing sensation. Her breath grew short and made her voice huskier than usual, her words disjointed. ‘You must see…see that…in the eyes of the church, we…we haven’t been properly joined.’

  The smile gleamed in his eyes. ‘That can very easily be fixed. We can be joined just as soon as you like.’

  ‘Oh. You know what I mean. I’m not sure that we should—sleep together.’

  He said very firmly, ‘Yes, we should.’

  ‘No, well…I’m a very light sleeper.’ She searched his face in an attempt to gauge his reaction. ‘I think I’ll feel better if I sleep here on the sofa.’

  ‘I don’t think so.’

  He stopped stroking her cheek, le
aving her skin feeling bereft and yearning. Aching for him to start it again, she edged her cheek a little closer to him. With a grave expression, this time he stroked some hair back from her ear, then circled her ear with his fingertips.

  Her entire being melted into swoon as thrills shivered through her scalp and down her spine.

  ‘I think I can promise you’ll feel much better if you sleep in the bed.’ There was a suave, confident finality in his tone.

  ‘No, what I’m trying to say is—that I’m not sure I feel married enough to—you know.’

  ‘Make love?’ he supplied, lifting his black brows and smiling like the very devil.

  She gave a nod. ‘Without the blessing of the church.’

  ‘Oh, but…’ his expression grew solemn ‘…what could be a holier place to wed than a garden? I have to say I felt very blessed.’ He made an expansive gesture. ‘There we were, at one with the earth, the sea and the sky, kissed by the rays of the setting sun.’

  ‘Oh, well, perhaps…’ Had there been some special deeper inflection in the way he said ‘kissed’, or had her hypersensitivity to the hot, strong current she sensed emanating from him made her imagine it? ‘It was lovely, I know, but…’ she had to give her conscience a proper hearing ‘…just because we’re married doesn’t mean we should.’

  He pinned her with his compelling glance and said softly, and very definitely, ‘No, my sweet wife, we should because I want you and you want me.’

  She met his hot dark gaze and all her arguments dried on her tongue while her heart slithered into emergency pounding.

  Suddenly he bent his head and planted a soft little kiss at the base of her throat. It was so thrilling and unexpected, she couldn’t restrain a gasp. Then he trailed more kisses down her chest, all the way to the valley between her breasts. She felt them surge with warmth under the lapels of her jacket.

  If only he would push her lapel aside and kiss her there. Imagining it sent a hot helpless rush to her nipples.

  He smelled so attractively male, and his hot hungry lips on her skin ignited such arousing little fires, her breathing grew increasingly shallow. Still, she struggled to retain some control.

  ‘All right, fine,’ she panted after a second. Despite what Thea had said, she was quite willing to compromise. ‘Perhaps…I could feel okay about a kiss.’

  He drew back from her, leaving the skin he’d recently aroused ablaze with yearning for more.

  ‘A kiss?’ He considered it, scanning her face with a narrowed gaze. Then he nodded. ‘Hmm. A kiss is fairly harmless. That shouldn’t disturb your conscience too much.’ He continued his meditative scrutiny for a while, then grinned, so wickedly her insides turned over and a hot hungry flame flared low in her abdomen. ‘Anyway, since we’ve already kissed once, I guess that genie is out of the bottle now.’

  ‘Twice.’ She gazed at him from under her lashes. ‘Remember? We’ve kissed—twice.’

  His voice was darker than a cavern. ‘I remember.’

  The gleam in his eyes grew so piercingly sensual, she held her breath in suspense, her heart madly pounding. Then he brought his mouth firmly down on hers.

  At first it was a fantastic collision of lips, until he took first her upper, then lower lip between his, sliding each one gently through his teeth as if for the maximum knowing of them.

  Theos, it was so slow and sexy.

  A heavy, voluptuous heat beat to her breasts, and she felt her nipples and other erogenous zones rouse to a moist yearning. Then his tongue slid into her mouth, tickling the delicate tissues inside and igniting little snakes of fire there that somehow wound their way through her bloodstream, inflaming her longing to be thoroughly stroked everywhere.

  She found herself clinging to him. He deepened his possession of her mouth, his hot, wine-flavoured breath mingling with hers in intoxicating intimacy. Then she felt his hand slide under her lapel, and she felt him squeeze then gently caress her breast through the lace of her bra. Thrills shivered through her.

  She was seized by the most urgent need to be rid of the bra, to allow her breasts to be free and bare to his clever, devouring hands. And all the while, down below between her legs, a wilder urgency burned.

  Just when she felt all hot and afire, he broke the kiss and drew away from her. She dragged in some air, her skin tingling and crazy to be touched.

  ‘There,’ he said, his voice deeper than a growl. ‘One kiss. How do you feel now?’ His eyes were hot and slumberous, with a dark sexual flame that somehow exacerbated the hunger in her blood.

  His shirt collar was unbuttoned, opening to a triangle of bronzed skin at the base of his strong neck. Her mouth watered with a sudden insane need.

  ‘Fine. Just fine. Only… Who said it had to be just one?’ Her voice was smokier than a Naxos taverna.

  It was only a kiss, after all. Giving him little chance to protest, she placed her hands on his shoulders, and leaned forward to press her lips to that bare triangle. A tremor passed through him, delivering her a thrilled satisfaction. His skin had a faintly salty, masculine taste that was distinctly moreish to her hungry lips. With her breasts rising and falling in the upheaval of a new and heady exhilaration, she slipped undone the next couple of buttons of his shirt, revealing a deeper expanse of masculine chest.

  A sultry pang roiled through her as her glance fastened on his alluring whorls of black chest hair, just begging to be explored. She bent her lips to his hot satin skin, then almost of its own volition her tongue licked a trail all the way to his neck. She felt another satisfying shudder rock him.

  He grabbed her upper arms then and held her a little away from him, but her hunger wasn’t appeased. In fact it intensified. Her avid gaze flicked to his mouth, and it was as though she couldn’t help herself. She just had to.

  She leaned forward and pressed her lips to his, feeling his thrilling leap of response, tasting and savouring and exploring with her tongue until she felt so hotly aroused with pleasure, she was aflame. Then he took charge of the clinch, his hands suddenly becoming rough and urgent to explore her willing curves. Her hands were infected with the same mad thirst. They couldn’t keep from roaming, craving to feel his shoulders and powerful chest, sliding under his shirt to explore the lean hard contours of muscle and bone.

  Somehow she found herself lying down, ablaze, her head on the cushions against the armrest, with Sebastian’s long lean frame half lying on top of her. But it was still only kissing. Somehow they each adjusted their bodies, his so lean and angular, hers softer, more yielding, to find a way to kiss on the limited space without interrupting the steamy progress.

  To her sinful delight, Sebastian was an expert at creating pleasure with his hands. She wasn’t sure when her jacket became unbuttoned, but the kiss grew even hotter and sexier as his clever fingers stroked her yearning breasts and sent tingles resounding through her body.

  Far too soon though, he broke from her. She waited, her momentary disappointment quickly changed by his scorching gaze to a limbo of thrilled suspense. What next? With a searing glance, he bent his lips to her breasts, and to her shock deliberately sucked each yearning nipple through the lace of her bra.

  Ah-h-h, bliss. The gentle friction of the cloth and his mouth on her sensitive peaks was so arousing, her desire blazed to an inferno. Her convulsive fingers mauled his shoulders, kneaded his arms, tangled in his hair as she gasped and cried out in pleasure. Then just when she was ready to melt into a molten puddle, he drew away from her and sat up.

  Panting, she eyed him hungrily. Far from being satisfied, her appetite to taste his kisses seemed to have escalated to an evil obsession.

  ‘Come here,’ she rasped throatily, surprised by her own boldness, half sitting in the attempt to grab him and pull him back to her.

  But he placed a light but firm hand on her chest. ‘Stay there.’ His dark drawl rippled down her spine like the devil’s breath. For a second he sat very still, the gleam in his eyes darker and more seductive than she’d yet observed.r />
  Her blood seethed with the most delicious anticipation.

  He made sure she was comfortable, arranging her cushions securely against the arm of the sofa, lifting her feet to rest on his thighs. A wild and pleasurable suspense fluttered inside her.

  He caressed her feet absently for a moment, watching her face, then traced a lean hand along her leg to her knee. ‘Ah, these gorgeous legs,’ he growled, bending to kiss her knee.

  It was so flattering. She bent her knees up to make it easier for him if he felt like kissing them again. And he did. Though next time, he kissed her above the knee, on the inside of her thigh.

  Her excitement intensified.

  He stroked her legs with increasingly long and sensual sweeps, his fingertips rousing fire wherever they connected with her willing flesh. How far would he dare to go? Then his caressing fingers slipped under her skirt and travelled softly, gently, all the way up to the silken skin at the top of her inner thigh. Close, so scintillatingly close, to the holy of holies.

  It was explosively dangerous, it was hardly a kiss, but the sensations were so thrilling, what else could she do but give herself up to voluptuous enjoyment?

  And all the time, while rivulets of sheer pleasure radiated through her flesh, a very short distance away, covered only by the delicate cotton of her pants, her most intimate, secret parts burned to be included in the orgy. In truth, Theos pardon her weakness, the closer his questing fingers roamed to the strictly forbidden zone, the more she ached for him to caress her there.

  While he gazed at her, his hot, slumberous eyes as dark as Lucifer’s, she looked back at him, knowing her own eyes must reflect the pleasure she was feeling, at the same time hoping he’d somehow read her desperate yearning.

  Then all at once his traversing hand moved a little further afield. She tensed in anticipation. A low, throaty moan escaped her as with the most thrilling pleasure she felt his fingertips softly glide across the flimsy fabric of her pants.

  Ah-h-h.