The Greek's Bought Bride

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The Greek's Bought Bride Page 6

by Sharon Kendrick


  ‘I am hurting you?’

  ‘No. No. Not at all. It’s...oh! Oh, Xan. It’s heaven.’

  ‘Is it now? Then I had just better.... Do. It. Some. More.’

  With each emphasised word, he thrust deeper and deeper, until her nails were digging into his back. Tamsyn could feel the build-up of something. Something so delicious she didn’t believe it could get any better, except that it did. And then better still. It was like being whizzed to the top of a high tower block and being told to jump off, and willingly she did, gasping out his name in an expression of disbelief as she went flying over some sunlight ledge.

  As he heard the helpless sound of her cries, Xan knew he couldn’t hold back. Not a second longer. And when his orgasm came it left him shaken. His head fell back and it took several breathless minutes before he could distance himself by rolling away from her. Because he needed to do that. He needed to make sense of what had just happened—even though all he could think about was the folly of what he’d just done.

  He had seduced the Sheikh’s sister-in-law!

  And against all the odds, she had been a virgin.

  He stared down at her, at where her magnificent hair tumbled like fire against the muddled pile of pillows. Her eyes were closed though experience told him she was not asleep, though he suspected she wanted him to think she was. But she was in his room and he wanted answers.

  Now.

  ‘That was some...surprise,’ he drawled.

  She opened her eyes and he steeled himself against their beauty, but somehow they had lost their luminous quality. They looked as flat as pieces of jade as she returned his stare and he could see her dreamy expression being replaced with her more usual look of rebellion.

  ‘What, that the woman you’d clearly slotted into the category of “she’ll be up for anything”, turned out to be less experienced than you imagined?’ she challenged.

  He made a growling little sound at the back of his throat. ‘Didn’t you think it was a big enough deal to tell me I was your first lover?’ he demanded. ‘Or that it might be the polite thing to have done?’

  At this, Tamsyn nearly burst out laughing. ‘Polite? We haven’t exactly been polite to each other up until now, have we?’ she retorted. ‘At what point exactly was I supposed to tell you? You’ll forgive me if I don’t know the protocol for this kind occasion.’

  ‘Well, neither do I!’

  ‘Are you saying that I’m the first virgin you’ve ever had sex with?’

  ‘Neh... Yes,’ he translated.

  There was a moment of silence. ‘Why?’

  ‘Why do you think?’ he questioned sarcastically. ‘If someone your age has waited all this time to have sex, it’s usually an indication of her having unrealistic expectations.’

  ‘Such as?’

  He shrugged. ‘Holding out for a wedding ring is the first thing which springs to mind.’

  ‘You really are the most arrogant man I’ve ever met.’

  ‘I don’t deny it,’ he said, unabashed. ‘But at least you can’t accuse me of being dishonest.’

  But wasn’t there a part of Tamsyn which wished he had been? A previously unknown side of herself which longed for him to tell her that it had been wonderful and she was wonderful, and from now on she was going to be his girlfriend.

  Had she taken complete leave of her senses?

  She needed to face the facts, like she’d always done. She’d just had sex, that was all. It might not have been the smartest move to chose Xan Constantinides as her first lover but she wasn’t going to deny how superb he’d been. And what she was not going to do was to regret it. Didn’t she have enough regrets already, without adding one more to the list? Couldn’t she take pleasure from the most amazing thing which had ever happened to her, without carrying around a whole shedload of guilt?

  She shifted her weight again and the slippery golden sheet slithered away to her breast and suddenly he was saying something in thick and urgent Greek before pulling her hungrily into his arms. Maybe Tamsyn should have been daunted by the newly massive erection she felt pressing against her belly but she wasn’t—mainly because she was remembering what had just happened. And she wanted it to happen all over again.

  Eagerly she raised her face to search for his kiss, feeling a shiver of excitement rippling uncontrollably through her body as the Greek billionaire reached blindly for a second condom.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  TAMSYN HAD HEARD plenty about the ‘walk of shame’ but she’d never experienced it before. The furtive walk from a man’s bedroom back to your own, wearing last night’s clothes and praying that nobody would notice you. But how on earth was she going to manage that when she was wearing full evening dress?

  Tamsyn quickly realised it was a naïve and futile hope. Not only did she pass countless servants silently scurrying through the sunlit corridors—she even had the misfortune to encounter a large group of wedding guests who were clearly being given an early-morning guided tour by one of the Sheikh’s assistants. It would have been almost comical to see their reaction to her sudden appearance, if it had been happening to anyone other than her.

  The guide’s voice faded away and everyone’s mouths fell open as a barefooted Tamsyn rounded the corner, wearing a now crumpled grey evening dress and dangling her silver high-heeled shoes from one hand, while her other tightly grasped a pair of priceless diamond earrings and a matching choker. The guide seemed to recover himself—maybe he recognised her as the Sheikh’s new sister-in-law—because he cleared his throat and gave a strangled kind of smile.

  ‘You are lost, mistress?’

  Tamsyn gave a thin smile. Yes, she was lost—but only in the emotional sense of the word, and once again wondered what on earth had possessed her to indulge in a long night of sex with a man she instinctively sensed was dangerous.

  You know why. Because you couldn’t stop yourself. Because the moment he touched you, you went up in flames.

  Ignoring the knowing side glances of the men and the hostile glare of the women in the group, Tamsyn gave a determined shake of her head, making her unbrushed curls fly around her shoulders like angry red corkscrews. ‘I’m just on my way back to my room,’ she said cheerily. ‘It seemed a pity not to get up early and watch the sun rise over the desert.’

  They obviously didn’t believe a word she was saying, but since she would never see them again after today—who cared?

  She made it back to her room at last, tearing off her dress, throwing aside the shoes and carefully putting the jewellery down, before escaping into the sanctuary of the luxurious bathroom. At least the steam of the hot shower and the rich lather of perfumed soap made her feel marginally better, but not for long, because flashback images kept coming back to haunt her. Imagines of a hard, muscular body driving down on hers and warm arms enfolding her and holding her tight. Just concentrate on what you’re supposed to be doing, she told herself fiercely as she dragged a brush through her unruly curls. She had just slithered into her old denim cut-offs and a clean T-shirt, when there was a rap at the door.

  She wasn’t going to deny the leap of her heart in response, or the determined pep talk she gave herself as she walked across the palatial suite. She told herself to play it cool. If Xan Constantinides wanted her phone number then she would give it to him, but she wasn’t going to act like it was a big deal. She might never have had sex before but over the years she’d listened to how friends and colleagues dealt with the thorny issue of The Morning After. And apparently the most stupid thing a woman could ever do, was to come over all eager.

  Composing her face into what she hoped wasn’t an over-the-top smile, it faded immediately when she opened the door to discover it wasn’t Xan standing there but the newly crowned Queen of Zahristan—her sister Hannah! A sister whose face was filled with anger as she walked in without waiting to be invited, pushing the door shut behind
her, before assuming a grim expression of accusation which Tamsyn recognised all too well.

  ‘Would you like to tell me what’s going on?’ she demanded.

  ‘I could ask the same thing of you!’ retorted Tamsyn, reframing the accusation and turning it on its head since attack was always the best form of defence. ‘It’s the first day of your honeymoon—so what are you doing barging into my bedroom at this time in the morning? Won’t your new husband be wondering where you are?’

  Hannah bit her lip and Tamsyn was shocked to see the despair which briefly darkened her sister’s eyes because she was usually cheerful, no matter what life threw at her. And despite her own predicament, Tamsyn felt her heart plummet as her worst fears began to materialise. Was Hannah’s marriage already starting to go off the rails, even though she had only been crowned Queen the previous day? She had warned her sister that it was a mistake to marry such a man as arrogant as Kulal. She’d begged her not to go through with the marriage just because she was pregnant, but Hannah hadn’t listened. What if the powerful Sheikh was being cruel to his pregnant wife—what then?

  ‘So where’s Kulal, Hannah?’ Tamsyn probed, as suspicion continued to stab at her heart like a dagger. ‘Doesn’t he mind you being here, quizzing me, on the first morning of his honeymoon?’

  ‘I’m not here to talk about my relationship!’ declared Hannah, but Tamsyn could hear the sorrow in her voice. ‘I’m here to ask whether you spent the night with Xan Constantinides.’

  And despite all her bravado, Tamsyn felt a shiver whisper over her skin. Was it hearing someone else say the words out loud which drove home the true nature of what she had done? After years of fiercely guarding her innocence she had let the Greek tycoon lead her back to his suite and take her virginity with barely an arrogant snap of his fingers. A man she barely knew. A man she would probably never see again.

  And it had been the most amazing thing which had ever happened to her.

  They had spent the night having passionate sex—over and over again. He’d said things to her in Greek she hadn’t understood and things to her in English which she had, and which made her blush just remembering them.

  ‘You drive me crazy. Your breasts are small but the most perfect I have ever seen,’ he had growled at one point, lifting his head from her nipple, where the lick of his tongue and the graze of his teeth had been enough to have her writhing on the bed in ecstasy. ‘And do you want to know what else about you is perfect?’

  She remembered thinking how delectable he looked with his cheekbones all flushed and his black hair wild as a lion’s mane from where she’d been running her fingers through it. She remembered an instinctive feeling of sexual power flooding through her as she met his hectic cobalt gaze. ‘Yes,’ she whispered. ‘Yes, I do.’

  But he had answered with the urgent thrust of his seemingly ever-present erection, and Tamsyn had almost passed with pleasure as he brought her hurtling over the edge of fulfilment, again and again and again.

  She must have fallen asleep eventually, because when she opened her eyes it had been to discover herself alone in the rumpled bed with bright sunlight on her face and only a scrawled note occupying the space where Xan had lain. She had picked it up with trembling fingers and read it.

  Gone riding in the desert. That was the most perfect night.

  Thank you.

  Xan.

  Tamsyn’s heart had sunk for it had read like the farewell it was obviously intended to be. There had been no line of kisses. No phone number or email address, or invitation to have dinner with him back in London.

  Well, what had she been expecting—everlasting love?

  Of course she hadn’t, but even facing up to the folly of her actions didn’t make it any easier. She’d done some pretty stupid things in her time, but sleeping with Xan Constantinides must rank right up there with some of the worst decisions she’d ever made. Easy come, easy go—that was probably how he saw it. If you slept with a man without even going out on a formal date, then why would he treat you with respect? Tamsyn swallowed. Was she doomed to follow the path laid down by her own mother, despite her determination to live her life in a very different way?

  Now she stared into Hannah’s aquamarine eyes which were so unlike her own. She guessed they each carried a legacy from their different fathers—both useless in their different ways—and fleetingly she wondered whether that was why they’d both made such bad choices when choosing men. Except that she hadn’t chosen Xan—he had chosen her.

  And he had done a runner as soon as possible.

  She shrugged her shoulders with a familiar gesture of defiance. ‘Yes, I spent the night with Xan Constantinides.’

  ‘But Tamsyn, why?’

  For the first time Tamsyn felt like smiling as she looked at her sister. Her pale-faced sister with dark shadows under her eyes. ‘You’re honestly asking me that? You might be a married woman now—but surely you’re not completely immune to the charms of a man like Xan Constantinides.’

  At the mention of marriage, Hannah flinched. ‘No, of course I’m not,’ she said quietly. ‘And that’s precisely why he’s the wrong kind of man for you, Tamsyn. He might be obscenely good-looking and have the kind of sex appeal which should carry a public health warning, but he’s known for his...his...’

  ‘His what?’ prompted Tamsyn, though her heart was smashing against her rib cage because she guessed what was coming.

  ‘Let’s just say he enjoys women! He enjoys them very much.’

  ‘I wasn’t expecting him to be celibate!’

  Hannah sucked in a long breath, her face growing serious. ‘It’s more than that. He usually dates actresses. Or models. Or heiresses.’

  ‘Not waitresses on short-term contracts who are always getting fired for insubordination, you mean?’ offered Tamsyn drily.

  ‘And you...’

  Tamsyn watched as Hannah unconsciously rubbed her enormous gold and ruby wedding band, as if reaffirming to herself that she really was married. And once again she wondered why her sister was standing here on the first morning of her honeymoon, looking like the very opposite of what a glowing newlywed should be. Why wasn’t she romping in bed with her husband? ‘I what, Hannah?’

  The new Queen chewed on her lip. ‘I know you were inexperienced with men, Tamsyn,’ she breathed. ‘And by associating with someone like Xan, you’re operating right out of your league.

  ‘Oh, don’t worry,’ Tamsyn assured her airily. ‘I’m not anticipating any kind of future with him. I’m not that stupid.’

  ‘But what...’ Hannah sucked in a deep breath. ‘What if you’re pregnant?’

  Tamsyn knew she didn’t have to have this conversation, no matter how close the two sisters had been when they were growing up. But in a way she did need to have it, because wouldn’t voicing her inner fears help put them into perspective? Like when you had a terrible nightmare and the shadows in the room seemed to symbolise all kinds of terrible things—yet when you put a lamp on you soon saw that the imagined monster was a chair, or a dressing table.

  ‘We used protection,’ she said quietly.

  Hannah’s eyes were very big. ‘So did we,’ she whispered. ‘And look what happened.’

  And suddenly Tamsyn was made very aware of how easily a woman could be trapped by her own passion. Hannah had accidently become pregnant by the Sheikh which was why she had married him. Who was to say the same thing wouldn’t happen to her? She found herself uttering a small, silent prayer. ‘We’ll just have to hope it doesn’t happen to me,’ she said quietly.

  ‘And what if it does?’

  ‘Then I’ll deal with it. But I’m not going to project like that. I’m just going to carry on as before.’

  ‘Doing what?’

  Tamsyn patted the back pocket of her cut-offs to check she had her cellphone. ‘Doing what I always do. Adapting. Moving on.’


  Distractedly, Hannah began to pace up and down the room, the silken shimmer of her flowing robes seeming to emphasise the growing differences between them. Stopping in front of one of the tall windows which overlooked the palace gardens, the streaming sunlight had turned her pale blonde hair into liquid gold and Tamsyn thought how scarily royal she looked. ‘Kulal says we might be able to find a role for you in the London Embassy.’

  ‘As what? The new attaché?’ enquired Tamsyn, deadpan.

  ‘I’m serious, Tamsyn. There are always cleaning jobs available—or we thought you might like to help the chef in the Ambassador’s private kitchen.’ Hannah gave a somewhat helpless shrug. ‘Something like that.’

  ‘Well, thanks but no thanks,’ said Tamsyn firmly. ‘I don’t want to be beholden to your husband and I’d prefer to make my own way in life, just like I’ve always done.’

  At this, Hannah walked forward to place her hand on Tamsyn’s arm. ‘But if anything happens,’ she said fervently. ‘If you find out you are pregnant—then you will come to me for help, won’t you, Tamsyn?’

  ‘If I were you, I think I’d be concentrating on your life rather than mine,’ said Tamsyn sharply. ‘I’ve never seen you looking so pale. What’s the matter, Hannah—have you suddenly discovered there are serpents in paradise?’

  Was her remark too close to the bone? Was that why Hannah’s face crumpled and she looked as if she was about to cry? Tamsyn felt a sudden pang of guilt as her sister turned towards the arched doorway, but any remorse was quickly cancelled out by the enormity of what her sister had just said to her. Because that was something she hadn’t even considered. Her stomach performed a sickly somersault as Hannah left the room and Tamsyn stared unseeingly at one of the priceless silken rugs. What if Hannah’s fears were true? What if she was pregnant?

 

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