Mediterranean Men Unleashed: The Billionaire's Blackmailed Bride. JACQUELINE BAIRD

a little, her legs parting to enclose his strong thighs, and heard his sharp intake of breath with feminine satisfaction.

      ‘For an innocent I have a feeling you are going to be a very fast study,’ he said with husky amusement in his tone.

      ‘I hope so,’ she quipped, and ran her hand over the soft curling hairs of his chest, her finger grazing a very male nipple. ‘When does the next lesson begin?’ she asked mischievously, resting her chin on his breastbone and looking up into his darkly handsome face.

      His sensuous grin sent a delicious shiver the length of her spine. ‘I think I have awakened a sleeping tigress, and the first thing you need to know is the male takes a little longer to recover than the female, though it is a known fact that with a little encouragement the waiting time can be reduced.’

      ‘Like this, you mean,’ she prompted softly, and dipped her head to brush his lips with hers, and then his throat, and finally her tongue slipped out to lick a hard male nipple. She loved the musky male taste of him; she could not get enough of him, revelling in the strong hard body beneath her. She trailed one hand down over his rock-hard diaphragm, her slender fingers tracing the slim line of black body hair down to the flat plane of his belly, and lower to explore his essential maleness, and very quickly the waiting was over.

      Time had no meaning as they explored the hunger, the depths of passion and the exquisite tenderness of their love. They bathed and made love again, slept and made love again …

      Emily yawned and opened her eyes to find Anton standing over her dressed in khaki shorts and a white polo shirt, and holding a coffee-cup in his hand. Sleepily she looked at him, a slow beautiful smile curving her full lips.

      ‘You’re up,’ she murmured and her stomach gave a distinct rumble. ‘What time is it?’

      He grinned and placed the cup and saucer on the bedside table. ‘One.’ Then he bent his head to drop a swift kiss on her brow.

      She frowned. ‘It’s the middle of the night. Come back to bed.’

      ‘It is one on Thursday afternoon.’

      ‘Oh, hell!’ she exclaimed and stretched, then winced as muscles she never knew she had stung. ‘I must get up.’ She started to, then realized she was naked, and, finding the cotton coverlet, she tugged it over her body.

      Anton winced guiltily with her, his dark eyes roaming over her lithe, shapely form. She looked so delectable, her blonde hair tousled around her beautiful face, her lips pink and swollen from his kisses, and the sheet barely covering her luscious breasts.

      He had bedded some of the most stunning women in the world, but none came close to Emily. She was perfection incarnate, and he knew the image of her naked body, the wild passion they had shared, would be for ever etched in his brain. She had been a virgin, and he should have had more control, and he had tried.

      After the second time, he had carried her to the bathroom and bathed her, but by the time he had got around to drying her he had lost control again, then he had given up counting. He had never known a woman like her in his life; she was all Eve, a temptress, and a siren with a body to drive a man out of his mind.

      As he had expected from the first time he laid eyes on Emily, she was a sexy, passionate woman. She had gone up in flames as soon as he touched her. She had wreathed in his arms, and cried his name, cried out her love as he possessed her exquisite body, convulsing in orgasmic pleasure time after time.

      What was even more amazing, with remarkable aptitude in no time at all she learnt just what buttons to press to make him equally helpless in the power of their passion. She was a naturally born sensualist …

      The only thing he had not expected was that she would still be a virgin. The man she had been engaged to before must have been a eunuch or an absolute saint.

      He found it incredible that he was her first lover. He had never made love to a virgin before. Innocence had never appealed to him, he preferred experienced women who knew the score, and yet he was stunned by the uniquely erotic experience. And if he was honest, in a totally chauvinistic way he felt an overwhelming masculine satisfaction and pride that she had given her virginity to him. She was his … only his …

      He didn’t believe in love, but there was something extremely beguiling in having a wildly sexy wife who did. He had intended revealing the true reason he had married her after spending one passionate night with her. But he had already virtually dismissed the idea on the plane over here, and now, having discovered how innocent she was, he would have to be the biggest fool in Christendom to disillusion her. Anton was no fool and he thanked his lucky stars he had kept his mouth shut about her father.

      His body hardened just looking at her and his mouth tightened as he fought the temptation to join her in bed, captivated by her every movement as she reached for the cup he had left for her on the bedside table.

      ‘Good idea, drink your coffee,’ he finally answered, ‘and join me in the salon when you are dressed.’ He didn’t trust himself to keep his hands off her, and she needed time to recover. ‘The chef has prepared lunch and then I will give you a tour of the yacht and introduce you to the captain and crew.’ Turning on his heel, he walked rather stiffly out of the cabin.

      Emily drank the coffee and, sliding off the bed, headed for the shower. Washed and wearing only a towel, she glanced around the cabin and saw her suitcase standing by a wall of cupboards. She had never thought of unpacking it the night before. In a matter of minutes she unpacked her trousseau so carefully bought over the last few weeks. One exquisite evening gown, and a host of smart summer clothes, some stylish if slightly risqué lingerie and bikinis courtesy of Helen.

      As she closed the lingerie drawer a secret smile curved her lips at the thought of wearing them for Anton. She slipped on lace briefs and a matching bra, and a pair of white cotton shorts and a blue cotton top she had chosen to wear. She brushed her hair back off her face and fastened it with a slide. She didn’t bother with make-up, just a sun screen; she was in a hurry to get back to her husband.

      After lunch, Anton spent the next three hours giving Emily a tour of the yacht and introducing her to the captain and crew. The chief steward and the chef, he explained, arranged all the catering and the domestic running of the yacht. She wowed them all with her natural ease and grace, and her obvious interest in the mechanics of the yacht. Surprisingly for a woman she was quite knowledgeable about the workings of a ship.

      While he appreciated her interest, after half an hour all he wanted to do was get her back into bed. Her fantastically long legs were displayed in all their glory by the shorts she was wearing and he could not keep his eyes off her. It hadn’t escaped his notice neither could any other man around.

      ‘So what do you think, Emily?’ he asked as he leant against the ship’s rail, and clasped his hands loosely around her waist, and drew her between his splayed legs.

      ‘I think it is the ultimate boys’ toy.’ She looked up at him with such love and laughter in her eyes, inexplicably his heart tightened and his body followed suit. ‘I have seen cruise liners smaller than this.’ She shook her head in amazement. ‘I am not surprised we are anchored offshore—there is probably not a berth big enough even in Monte Carlo.’ She laughed. ‘I knew you were wealthy, but I had no idea how rich.’ She grinned up at him. ‘A helipad, a swimming pool and a wicked-looking motor launch to take us ashore. It is unbelievable, I love it, and I love you.’ And he felt the touch of her lips against his chin.

      ‘Then that is all right,’ Anton answered gruffly, swallowing a peculiar lump in his throat.

      ‘But what I want to know is when are we sailing and where to? The captain, when I asked him, did not seem to know. Is our honeymoon going to be a mystery tour?’ she demanded with a chuckle, and moved seductively between his thighs increasing the ever-present sensual awareness between them.

      Her bare legs brushing his sent his temperature soaring and Anton hardened still further; he could not help himself. But her question reminded him of where they were and why, and he felt a bit selfish, not a feeling he was comfortable with. He tightened