The Greek's Innocent Virgin. Lucy Monroe

on a long-distance runner than a corporate executive. His feet were bare like hers and their toes were scant inches apart.

      For some reason that seemed very intimate.

      CHAPTER TWO

      “YOU must have been thinking about something very absorbing if your thoughts were so deep they prevented you from hearing my footsteps.”

      How ironic that thoughts of the man had prevented her from preparing herself mentally to meet up with him. “Yes.”

      “Why are you not sleeping?”

      Did he realize he was still holding on to her? She tried shrugging to see if the movement would remind him to release her and step back. “I couldn’t.”

      He ignored her silent bid for freedom, probably hadn’t even noticed it. “Your mother died less than a week ago. It is understandable, this lack of rest.”

      “I suppose,” she replied, content to let him draw his own conclusions.

      She had enough to deal with not moving those remaining inches and snuggling into the warmth and safety his tall body offered. She wanted him physically and that in itself was shocking enough, but she wanted something else from him, something she’d learned long ago was not on offer in her life. Love. Commitment. Security.

      “I understand. My uncle’s death has caused much grief in my family.”

      That was probably as close as Sebastian would come to admitting his own weakness and the fact he was no doubt awake because of his own undiluted grief. Any feelings of sadness she had at the death of her mother were weakened by relief that the emotional pain of living in the shadow of her misdeeds was over.

      She licked her lips, trying to maintain her concentration when his nearness was wreaking havoc with her ability to focus on what was being said. “Matthias was a good man.”

      Sebastian’s hands dropped away from her shoulders finally, but he remained too close to ease her awkwardness. “He was, but I should not have dismissed your own grieving.”

      “What do you mean?” She had not expressed any real grief, so how could he have dismissed it?

      She wasn’t even sure if she was capable of mourning her mother’s death.

      “I was not kind to you this afternoon and I am sorry.” The words came out stilted, not at all like his usual smooth conversation.

      He probably apologized about as often as she dated, which was never.

      “It’s no big deal. Don’t worry about it.”

      “I hurt you and I should not have added to your pain in that way.”

      Oh, man, when he got going on the remorse thing, he took it seriously. And it made her feel guilty because while he’d hurt her, it had not been in addition to the pain of loss, but to the pain of a lifetime lived as Andrea’s daughter.

      “Thank you for your concern, but honestly, I’m used to comments like that.”

      The sound he made said her words had not soothed him.

      She sighed, unable to stifle the urge to reach out, to touch in an age-old gesture of comfort. Her fingers settled gently against his hair roughened arm and it was all she could do to remember what she was going to say. Oh, yeah…

      “I’m not angry with you.” Not anymore. “Matthias was a kind and caring man. I’m sorry he died the way he did. I’m sorry my mother’s life ended the way it did, but I don’t blame you for pointing out the truth. I am her daughter and I’ve learned to live with that.”

      An indecipherable expression settled over his angular features. “Earlier, I was worried you might take your story to the tabloids, but I realize now you would not do so.”

      Chills of horror skated along her nerve endings. “Never.”

      “Andrea courted publicity of the worst kind.”

      “And I had to live with it all my life.”

      “You did not like it.”

      “I hated it. As a child, I got teased and was expelled from two different private schools because of her behavior.” Andrea had been caught having sex with one of Rachel’s teachers by the man’s wife and the second time, she’d been arrested for cocaine possession. “It wasn’t much better at university. The world seems like such a big place until you’re the one in the middle of ugly media attention.”

      And by then, her mother had married a rich Greek tycoon old enough to be her father. It was the stuff of fantasy for would-be journalists making their name in the tabloid press.

      Which was why Rachel had legally changed her last name upon graduation. She’d never told Andrea, not wanting a big scene, but no one in Rachel’s current life knew that she was related to a woman notorious for her sexual exploits and questionable social activities.

      In the United States, the story of Rachel Long, daughter of Andrea Long Demakis, simply did not exist.

      Being shy and rather average looking had its advantages.

      She realized this time it was she who continued to hold on to him and quickly pulled her hand away. “Sorry.”

      “I do not mind.”

      She swallowed. “Yes, well, I should get back. I’m sure I can sleep now,” she said, lying through her teeth, but needing to get away from his unnerving presence.

      His hands caught her waist, halting her body and her breathing all in one go. “Are you sure?”

      “I…” She choked trying to get air into her lungs and he pulled her closer, soothing her back, his expression too heated to be labeled concern.

      She started to breathe again, but still couldn’t speak. His silver gaze was doing things to her insides she’d long since convinced herself was the stuff of fantasy. Shivery sensations traveled along nerve endings she didn’t even know she had and a heavy, aching sensation in her womb radiated downward to make her thighs clench.

      Firm, masculine lips tilted in a knowing smile and she was sure he knew just what was happening to her.

      He never broke eye contact as he drew her near until their bodies barely touched and she could not help the involuntary shudder that went through her at contact.

      His eyes filled with primal male triumph. “Yes. I knew you felt it too.”

      “Felt what?” she asked, knowing her attempt at prevarication was hopeless.

      He ignored it completely.

      “I need to know.” His head lowered until his lips were a breath from hers. “Don’t you wonder too?”

      She would have asked, “Wonder what?”, but his mouth closed over hers.

      And she stopped thinking.

      All she could do was feel.

      It was entirely alien, this merging of their mouths, the mingling of their breath, the gentle seduction of knowing lips. She had not known men like him, with so much power and masculine strength, could be gentle.

      Her hands went to his chest of their own accord, drawn by a lure as inexplicable as it was inescapable. She tentatively explored the ridges of muscle that had fascinated her earlier and her fingertips encountered hard points. Mesmerized by this unexpected indicator of his excitement, she investigated the phenomena completely.

      He groaned and yanked her into his body, his hold growing fierce, the kiss turning incendiary. Fiery passion sizzled between their lips and she did not pull away. That fact registered with what was left of her conscious mind along with the realization she felt not one iota of fear.

      There was no room inside her for anything but an all-consuming erotic craving and physical delight, both sparked by him. He tasted good, so different from her and yet infinitely right and