Exotic Nights: The Virgin's Secret / The Devil's Heart / Pleasured in the Playboy's Penthouse. Natalie Anderson

felt her body tensing. She’d lost any hope of regaining control by now. The world had ceased to exist. This was her reality.

      With a husky whisper she entreated him, hardly knowing what she was looking for. ‘Leo …’

      Everything went very still. But Angel hardly even noticed until, with sudden ruthlessness that almost bordered on cruelty, Leo stopped what he was doing and thrust her back from him with two hands on her shoulders.

      For a long moment Angel stood in shock, breathing swiftly as the earth righted itself again. Her heart thumped painfully and a light sweat had broken out all over her body. He rearranged her top and bra so she was covered again, with an abruptness that made Angel wince. The material chafed against her still sensitive nipple.

      She just couldn’t believe— Her thoughts ground to a halt when she realised her hands were glued to his chest, fingers curled and clinging to the material of his shirt. Hurriedly she dropped them as though burnt. Angel also realised then that her legs were incapable of holding her up, and she nearly collapsed in a humiliating heap at Leo’s feet before he cursed and picked her up, bringing her back over to the chair and sitting her down.

      Angel let her hair fall around her face. She couldn’t find a word to articulate how awfully raw and exposed she felt. Leo had set out to humiliate her and it had taken a nanosecond before she’d turned into a groaning wanton in his arms. How he must be laughing at her. He’d accused her of stealing just seconds before he’d kissed her, and she’d all but lain down and given herself to him.

      Her cheeks burned so hot they felt on fire. She could remember the way she’d said Leo, breathlessly, huskily, just as her whole body had been about to tip over the edge into an experience she’d never had, an experience that her jangling nerves craved to know even now. She’d thought she’d been in love with her boyfriend at college, and he hadn’t even managed— She gulped. Yet here, with someone who clearly despised her … Mortification twisted her insides into hard knots.

      ‘Angel—’

      His voice was suddenly too close, and Angel jumped up in a reflexive surge of horrified anger at how she’d reacted. Too late she saw that Leo had been holding out a glass of what looked like brandy, and she could only watch dumbly as it was knocked out of his hand with the force of her jerky movement, spinning away to crash into the corner of the room, glass shattering, alcohol staining the parquet floor.

      She looked at Leo in shock. ‘I’m so—’

      He cut her off, his face all sharp angles and forbidding lines. Jaw tense. ‘You could have just refused, Angel. There was two of us involved in what happened just now, so don’t try the outraged virgin act.’

      If only he knew! His words fell like tiny cuts all over her skin. Angel quivered with a rush of contradicting and mixed emotions. Right then she was glad the glass had smashed, and yet she also wanted to rush to clean it up. She wanted to smack Leo across the face, when she’d never hit a soul in her life, but she also wanted to throw herself into his arms and beg him to kiss her again. Her body still tingled and burned.

      She made a monumental struggle and tipped up her chin. ‘I didn’t see the glass. I’m sorry.’

      His eyes flashed in response. In a bid to put space between them Angel went on jelly legs to where the glass had smashed and started to pick up the bigger pieces. She heard something inarticulate behind her, and gasped as she was pulled up, a hand under her arm.

      ‘Leave it. I’ll get someone to look after it.’

      They were very close again, and all of Angel’s recent humiliation rushed back. Something caught Leo’s eye and he looked down at her hands, saying harshly, ‘You’re bleeding.’

      Angel looked down stupidly. She hadn’t felt a thing, but saw that her finger was bleeding from a nasty-looking gash. Leo expertly took the glass out of her hands and put it on the table behind them. Then, holding that hand carefully in his, he picked up the phone, dialled a number and bit out terse instructions in accentless Greek.

      Angel would have been impressed if she’d been able to think clearly. All she could do was follow Leo when he led her from the room and up the main staircase, her hand held in front of him so she had to hurry to keep up with his much longer strides.

      He brought her into a huge bathroom, switched on the light, and rummaged around for something in a cupboard. Angel could see that it was a first aid kit, and blustered, ‘Oh, no, don’t. Let me—’

      ‘Sit down and be quiet.’

      Angel was forced to sit down on the closed toilet seat, and she watched incredulously as Leo knelt before her and inspected the cut. And then he brought her finger to his mouth and sucked it deeply.

      Angel’s breath stopped. She tried to pull back, but he was too strong. Finally he let her finger go and said tersely, while inspecting it again, ‘I want to make sure there’s no glass in it. It’s a deep cut, but I don’t think you need stitches.’

      Thoroughly bemused, and feeling as if reality as she knew it had morphed out of all existence, Angel watched as Leo expertly and gently cleaned the cut and placed a tight plaster around the top of her finger.

      Then, just as perfunctorily, he led the way back downstairs, this time into a drawing room adjacent to the other side of the hall. She saw someone scurrying out of the study with a dustpan and brush. Leo let go of her hand and Angel scooted over beside a couch, sitting gingerly on the edge because she didn’t think she could stand.

      Leo poured a measure of something dark and golden—like his eyes—into a glass and brought it over. His mouth was set in a grim line. Angel accepted it with both hands, while avoiding his eyes. She didn’t drink much alcohol at all, but right now she welcomed the prospect of its numbing quality.

      CHAPTER THREE

      LEO watched Angel take the glass in both hands, a curiously child-like gesture that made something in his chest twist. He wanted to wring her pretty neck. But he also wanted to flatten her back against the couch and finish what they’d started in the study. He could still remember how it had felt to roll his tongue over her small tight nipple, the way she’d arched into him, and he had to use iron will right now to control the rush of response.

      He had not meant to ravish Angel standing in the study like that. The impulse to kiss her had been born out of his inarticulate rage that she had such a visceral effect on him, especially when he knew exactly who and what she was. But the kiss had got out of control very quickly. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been so consumed, to the extent that he’d shut out every clamouring voice in his head. Until she’d said Leo with that husky catch, and her hips had jerked against his hand, and he’d emerged from what had felt like a trance.

      He’d touched down in Athens barely three hours ago and was still reeling slightly at facing the reality that he’d willingly upended his life. Feeling acutely vulnerable again, Leo turned and strode back to the sideboard, to pour himself a drink and try and gather his scattered thoughts. They’d scattered as soon as he’d taken the call from the security guard and seen who was at the gate. For a disturbing second he’d almost believed he was imagining her.

      And yet he couldn’t deny that he’d felt a rush of pure sensual excitement at seeing Angel approaching the house. It had eclipsed the disappointment he’d felt that her effect on him hadn’t grown less in the interim.

      Her guilt had been obvious from the moment she’d gone straight to the kitchen entrance rather than come to the main door. And then, when he’d seen her creeping through the house like the little thief she was, something hard had solidified in his chest.

      He hated to admit it but he had thought that perhaps he’d judged her too swiftly. Seeing the evidence of her avarice in front of his eyes tonight had made a fool of him again. She was no innocent. Hadn’t years of witnessing hardened New York socialites in action taught him anything?

      As he poured himself a drink now, and