Greek Affairs in his Bed: Sleeping with a StrangerBlackmailed into the Greek Tycoon’s BedBedded by the Greek Billionaire

by Anne Mather

  And instantly it was as if the present had faded away, evaporating on the wave of heat that swept through every inch of him, taking him back through time, to the moment when he had been here in the stables like this, settling the horses for the night, and then he had gone upstairs to the poky flat above and found her waiting for him.

  That memory was so very much in his mind because he had been up to the flat only a couple of days before. He had looked round the small shabby rooms, remembering how she had looked on that night, with her tall, leggy, still not fully developed figure in the stretchy white lace bra and knickers that she had so obviously thought made her look sophisticated but which, in fact, only made her look so very young.

  Ridiculously young.

  Impossibly young.

  Dangerously young.

  Ruinously young.

  He had tried so hard to keep his distance, but she had ignored every warning, every command to stay away.

  ‘Don’t you think of me as a woman?’ she’d asked. ‘Because I am a woman—a real woman—and I’ll prove it.’

  And then she had thrown herself into his arms. And he had been lost. His determination to hold back, to push her away, had evaporated in a heartbeat and he had been totally unable to hold back.

  Just as he was unable to do so now as he took her mouth with his, lips crushing lips, tongues tangling. His heart was pounding and sexual need flared, hot and demanding, sending the blood racing to harden him in between one hungry beat and the next. And he knew that Jessica must feel it too, he knew that the way she was crushed against him, the way that her mouth met his kiss for kiss, the way her hands tangled in his hair, fingers twisting in the strands as she pulled him closer, held him just so that she could kiss him even more deeply, even more passionately.

  I am a woman—a real woman …

  The words pounded in his head, taking on a new depth, a new importance with every repetition. Because he was only too aware of the fact that the body beneath his caressing hands was that of a fully grown woman, no longer an adolescent barely out of childhood. And that this time there was no need at all to hold back.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  STILL holding her tight against him and with his mouth claiming hers, Angelos kicked backwards at the open door, giving a small grunt of satisfaction as he heard it thud into the opening, shutting out the light and the rest of the world. And then he was half walking, half carrying Jessica away from the occupied stalls, further into the back of the stables to where the piles of fresh clean straw stood stacked ready for the rest of the mucking out. A clean horse blanket hug from a hook on the wall and he snagged it one-handed as they went by, the other hand still keeping Jessica close to him.

  Not that she needed any keeping. If anything, she was welded to him more closely than he could ever have held her and the way that one hand was still twisted in his hair, the other clamped hard against his back, meant that he was almost as much her prisoner as she was his. And as the need to keep hold of the blanket forced him to loosen his grip on her she took advantage of the fact, sliding the hand at his back under the loose hem of his T-shirt, teasing fingers caressing the skin of his back.

  Her touch made him writhe in pleasurable response, his eyes half closing so that he almost stumbled on the uneven stone floor.

  ‘Jessica, agape mou … careful, you’ll have us over …’

  Her laughter against his lips, into his mouth sent another erotic charge along every nerve, heightening every sense.

  ‘Isn’t that what you want—what we both want?’

  ‘You know it is—but not like this … let me …’

  Somehow he managed to get the blanket down over the fresh golden straw, spreading it out as much as he could while both his view and his movements were hampered by her clinging form. Those wicked hands were now underneath his T-shirt, one finger-walking up his spine, and the other dancing tormentingly around the waistband of his jeans, slipping under the leather belt, first at the back and then sliding around to the front. He knew when she felt the heat and force of his erection through the denim by the way she stilled for a heartbeat, and snatched in a sudden, raw breath.

  Just for a second it seemed as if his heart stood still, as if he had gone back seven years and was just waiting, expecting the woman in his arms to stiffen in panic, to push him away. He almost felt that in a moment the light would come on and …

  But if he needed any proof that the woman he held now was not the girl who hadn’t been able to cope with her own sensuality seven years before, then it was there in the way she relaxed again, the smile he could feel against his mouth and the way those teasing, tantalising hands returned to touch him intimately again, stroking their way along the line of his zip. And this time her laughter had a newly sensual edge to it, one that deepened, grew stronger as she heard his own harshly indrawn breath in response.

  No, this was no unknowing, wary child-woman any more. This Jessica was all woman through and through and for a moment Angelos closed his eyes as he offered up a silent prayer of thanks for that fact.

  He didn’t know if she caught the betraying movement or if somehow the fact that his attention was distracted reached through to her or simply that she caught her heel on an uneven stone but suddenly, with a swift twist, Jessica was falling back on to the blanket, her clutching hands taking him with her. And as they landed on the cushioned bed of straw, with her soft curves underneath him, her breasts crushed against his chest, her hips cradling the heat and hardness of him, he knew that this could only have one possible ending and that was the one that he had been dreaming about all these years.

  ‘This time we finish this,’ he muttered against her throat, feeling the frantic pulse that raced and fluttered under the pressure of his lips. ‘This time you’re mine and mine alone. Nothing and no one else comes between us.’

  This time you’re mine and mine alone.

  Jessica felt her heart rate kick up another notch or two as the husky, possessive words sounded in her ears.

  Mine and mine alone …

  He couldn’t have said anything more calculated to send her spirits soaring, lighten her heart. Once again, the feeling that she was wanted and wanted only for herself went straight to her head like the most potent of wines, adding to the delirium of need that had already taken possession of her and sending it spinning out of control. If she had thought that she had known sexual hunger, burning desire a few days before then it was as nothing when compared with the white-hot passion that blazed through her as she gave herself up once more to Angelos’s kisses. She was so lost in need that she barely felt him tug open the cotton shirt she wore, sending buttons flying off into the shadows by the wall. She only knew that he had dispensed with her bra and his T-shirt as well when she felt the heat of his skin, the faint abrasion of his chest hair against the aching, tender flesh of her breasts, the erotic sensation making her moan with pleasure and press herself closer, intensifying the pleasure for both of them.

  Her own hands, urgent and clumsy with need, fumbled with the heavy buckle on his belt, a furious mutter of frustration escaping her as she failed to unfasten it again and again. Angelos’s soft laughter sounded in her ear as he laid gentle fingers over hers, easing her impatient movements.

  ‘Allow me, kardia mou …’

  He took her mouth again as she flung her hands apart in exasperated submission and she felt the laughter deep in his throat as he finished the job swiftly and efficiently, shrugging himself out of his jeans and tossing them aside.

  The dry straw underneath the rough blanket rustled and cracked as he came down beside her again, this time kissing his way down from her mouth and along her arched neck to the spot where her pouting pink nipples seemed to demand the attention of those warm lips, the caressing tongue. But, even as he gave them the caresses they hungered for, he was busy too, easing off her jeans, taking her knickers with them and adding them to the pile of discarded clothing on the floor beside them.

  One hand slippe
d down, teasing between her thighs, a muttered imprecation escaping him in his own language as he felt the heat and moisture at the core of her, the way that she was burning up with need for him.

  ‘You’re so ready …’

  ‘Yes …’

  It was almost all she could manage. If he touched her again, then she would lose control, lose herself, lose all ability to speak, and there was something she had to say—something she must say so that he knew it was him she was ready for, that his was the possession she sought—and no one else.

  ‘Yes, Angelos—yes. I’m ready for you,’ she muttered against his ear, needing to make sure that he caught every word, that he knew just what was on her mind. ‘It’s you that I want—only you and no one else. I want you to take me now—take me and make me yours—because I am yours—yours and yours alone …’

  Her ardent declaration broke off on a cry of response as, needing no further urging, he lifted his powerful body over her, muscular legs coming between hers to part them and open her to him. Looking up into the deep dark eyes that burned down into hers, Jessica saw the glitter of passion in them, the burn of colour over the wide, strong cheekbones. And she met that smouldering stare with all the openness and courage she could muster, needing him to know that she was totally aware of who he was, and the he was that man she wanted.

  ‘Come into me, Angelos,’ she pleaded huskily, arching up against him, encouraging, enticing, inviting. ‘Come into me—take me—lo—’

  The final word was choked off suddenly, breaking into a high, keening sound of wild delight as he took her at her word and came into her in one long, slow powerful movement. Her head went back, her hands clutching at his powerful shoulders above her as she gave herself up to the sensation of being filled by this man, being made complete by him and completing him all in the same moment. She took his groan of pleasure into her own mouth and deliberately encouraged more with a wicked little twist to her hips, laughter bubbling up inside her as his sudden gasp revealed how well she had succeeded.

  ‘Jessica—agape mou … you feel amazing!’

  ‘So do you, my darling …’ She let her tongue circle the shape of his ear as she whispered the words up close. ‘So do you.’

  This was a new Angelos—a man she had never seen before. A man whose mouth had softened as he kissed her, whose eyes were lit from within, creating a glow that emphasised the vibrant darkness of his dilated pupils. A man whose whispered words were rough and intimate, for her alone, for the way that they were alone in this private world, in the tiny universe of two that they had created for themselves.

  ‘Angelos …’

  Once more she pressed her mouth against his, once more she lifted her hips, rocking herself back, away from the heated force of his erection, then back again, slowly down the length of him.

  ‘Jessica …’

  This time her name was a groan of surrender and as he made it she saw his face change dramatically. Every muscle tightened, his mouth firming as his jaw clenched, and she saw the soft glow fade from his eyes, to be replaced by a fierce, glazed determination as the heat of passion overcame him, took him over. The next thrusts into her willing, waiting body were wild and powerful, lifting her and taking her with him into a world where only the senses mattered, only their bodies and the storm of pleasure they were creating between them.

  Already the first traces of orgasm were fluttering inside her, swelling, growing stronger and more insistent with every move she made. And Angelos too was losing control, his breath coming harshly, in raw, ragged snatches as he muttered her name again and again and again.

  And it was that sound, the sound of her own name coming from between clenched teeth on a growing, rising litany of need and passion and satisfaction, the realisation that she and she alone was responsible for this stunning, powerful man losing control so completely, was the final push that thrust her right over the edge and into the oblivion of ecstasy, his name a long, keening sound of delight on her lips.

  Through the heated clouds of bliss that filled her mind she felt Angelos’s own fulfilment follow close behind. The long body that she held so close tightened again, thrust again, then shuddered to total satisfaction, finally collapsing, limp and satiated on top of her, his head on her breasts, his mouth just managing to press one final breathless kiss on the softness of her flesh.

  It was a long time before his racing heart slowed, before his raw breathing eased. But at last some sense or normality returned, the sweat that slicked their bodies dried and, as it did, Jessica stirred, half opened her eyes and then instantly closed them again, unable to cope with the reality of what had just happened. Not daring to look into Angelos’s face to try to find out what he was thinking, not knowing where they went from here, she retreated into the darkness behind her closed eyelids, unable to suppress a faint shiver as tiny icy footprints of uncertainty trailed their way over her skin.

  ‘Sorry …’

  For one dreadful moment she thought that Angelos was saying he was sorry for having made love to her, but instead it seemed he thought her reaction was from genuine cold and he reached for his discarded T-shirt, pulling it over her and tucking it in. He then folded his arms around her, holding her close, resting his chin on the top of her head.

  ‘One thing, Princess,’ he said, and the commanding tone made her stiffen, a new sense of fear skittering over her skin. ‘Don’t call me sir again. Ever.’

  The sense of release was so sudden, so shocking that Jessica didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. When she had still been expecting some declaration that this had been a mistake, something that should never happen again, the throwaway, dry comment caught her off balance, leaving her unsure how to respond.

  ‘Did I really say that?’ she asked, searching back in her memory to the time before the firestorm of passion had taken possession of her mind, leaving her incapable of thought and only able to feel.

  ‘You did—and made it sound like the worst possible insult that you could ever throw at me. If we are to be lovers then words like that have no place in our relationship.’

  ‘Then in that case I promise never again …’

  Jessica was not quite sure how she managed to keep her voice remotely even and non-committal when her heart was doing crazy things inside her chest, jolting violently and seeming to be beating way up in her throat.

  If we are to be lovers … he had said, and those words had such an ambiguous meaning that she didn’t know how to handle them, how to feel about them at all.

  If we are to be lovers at least meant that they had some sort of future together, for a while at least. But only for a while. Lovers was a temporary state, quite unlike the partnership he had offered as an alternative to the stables job.

  But, being brutally realistic, that ‘proposal’ had been purely motivated by business reasons, with nothing emotional behind it. Would she really be prepared to settle for so little?

  Even as she asked herself that question, the answer that sprang into her mind shook her right to the depths of her soul.

  Lovers was motivated by lust, the partnership proposal by financial considerations. Which was the worst, the most difficult to accept? The terrible thing was that, right now, she was prepared to accept either of them if it meant spending more time with Angelos in the future. But it seemed that the partnership had been a once-only proposal. Lovers was all that Angelos was prepared to offer to her now. And lovers was what she would have to accept if she was to have anything at all.

  Thinking back over the things she had said, the things she had almost let slip in the heat of passion, she could feel hot colour flood her body, shivers of near panic threatening to take a hold once more at the recollection of how unguarded she had been and what her own unthinking words had actually revealed. She was so glad that she had never finished that final sentence. That she had lost control so totally that she had not been able to complete what she had been about to say.

  ‘Come into me—take me—’ she had said.r />
  ‘Come into me—take me—’ love me, she had been about to go on.

  And she knew that those were not the words he wanted to hear. That love was not what he wanted from her.

  But love was what she felt, she now realised. Impossibly, foolishly, crazily, dangerously, she had fallen madly in love with Angelos. Or perhaps she had always loved him. Perhaps, from the very first moment that she had seen the Black Angel here, in the stables where he had just stamped his sexual mark on her and made her his so conclusively, she had always been his. Perhaps that was why she had been stupid enough to think that she could marry Chris and be satisfied with him. What was it Angelos had called her ex-fiancé in response to the accusations she had flung at him in her anger and pain—? Mr Opposite-of-me.

  At eighteen, she had fallen in love with Angelos and then, after the way he had treated her, knowing that the love she felt was too dangerous, too destructive, her self-preservation instinct had kicked in and made her choose a man who was as far away from the Black Angel as anyone could ever be. But she should have known that such a man could never satisfy her; that he would always have been found wanting, even if he had never betrayed her in the way he had. Once Angelos had come back into her life she could never have looked at any other man, let alone married him. She had been branded for life with Angelos Rousakis’s own personal stamp of intense sexuality and forceful maleness and no other man could ever match up to it.

  Beside her the straw rustled as Angelos adjusted his position, stretched lazily and raked both hands through the black strands of his hair, smoothing them back into place after her hands had tangled them so frantically in the throes of ecstasy.

  ‘I have to go …’

  He was looking around, reaching for his discarded clothes. He wanted to be up and gone, his distracted attention said that.

  ‘Go where?’

  ‘Something’s come up. That’s what I came to tell you….’

  Instinctively, Jessica clutched at the T-shirt, wanting to hug it close to her as if by doing so she could hold him with her even though he was on his feet, snatching up his jeans. Already she felt that he was on his way, putting her and the passion they had shared out of his mind as he focused on the other things he had planned.