Greek Mavericks: Winning The Enigmatic Greek. Tara Pammi

her.

      ‘Ariston,’ she whispered, but it sounded more like a prayer than a protest as he pulled her into his arms, into the warmth of his embrace, and she let him—ignoring the objections which were crowding her mind. And the moment he touched her, she was lost.

      He drove his mouth down on hers and she heard his little moan of triumph as she kissed him back. Her lips opened and he slid his tongue inside her mouth to deepen the kiss. She swayed against him, her fingernails digging into his chest through the fine silk of his shirt, and he circled his hips against hers in a movement which was unashamedly urgent. And now his hand was slipping inside the bodice of her dress so he could cup her braless breast with his fingers and she let him do that, too. How could she stop him when she wanted it so much?

      His groan was muffled as he explored each diamond-tipped nipple and she could feel her panties growing moist. Was he going to do it to her now? Here? Push her down onto the soft sand without giving her time to object? Yes. She would welcome that. She didn’t want anything to destroy the mood or the moment, because this had been a long time coming. Eight years, to be precise. Eight long and arid years when her body had felt as if it were made of cardboard, rather than responsive flesh and blood. Keeley swallowed. She didn’t want time to have second thoughts about what was about to happen—she wanted to just go with the flow and be spontaneous. A rush of excitement flooded through her until she remembered what she was wearing and, unlocking her lips from his, she pulled away from him. ‘The dress!’ she stumbled.

      He stared down at her uncomprehendingly. ‘The dress?’ he echoed dazedly.

      ‘It’s not mine, remember? I don’t want to...to mark it.’

      ‘Of course. You borrowed the dress.’ Something hardened in his eyes as his gaze swept over her and his smile was tinged with a flicker of triumph as he picked her up and walked across the sand towards the cottage, before kicking open the door.

       CHAPTER FIVE

      ONCE INSIDE, ARISTON carried Keeley straight upstairs in a display of masculine dominance she found intoxicating. As he brushed hungry kisses over her neck and lips she was on such a delirious high of pleasure that she was barely aware of him lifting her arms above her head and peeling off her borrowed dress. Until suddenly she was standing in front of him wearing nothing but a pair of tiny thong panties. Half naked in the silver moonlight, she should have felt shy, but the look blazing from Ariston’s eyes made her feel anything but shy. Tilting her chin, she felt the silky movement of her hair as it swayed against her bare back and a sudden sense of liberation rippled through her as she met his slow and appreciative smile.

      ‘Theos mou, but you are magnificent,’ he said, his body tensing as he cupped one of her breasts like a market trader calculating the weight of a watermelon.

      And even that rather brutal gesture excited her. Every single thing about him was exciting right now—each nerve ending in her body feeling as if a layer of skin had been peeled away, leaving her raw and aching. His voice dipped approvingly as his gaze focussed on her tiny panties. ‘It seems that beneath the often unexceptional clothes you favour, you dress in order to please your man.’ He glittered her a smile. ‘And I approve.’

      His arrogance was breathtaking and Keeley wanted to tell him that his words were inaccurate on so many counts. That the tiny briefs were the only thing she could have worn under such a flimsy gown without getting a visible panty line and usually she wore a heavy-duty bra to contain her overripe breasts. But he was playing with her nipples again and it was such an unbearably sweet sensation that she didn’t have the desire—or the strength—to break the fragile mood with stumbled words of explanation. Because during that short journey from beach to bedroom she’d known there was to be no turning back. It didn’t seem to matter if it was right or wrong, it just seemed inevitable. She was going to let Ariston Kavakos make love to her tonight and nothing was going to stop her.

      She lifted her gaze to his, watching as he began to unbutton his shirt, his eyes not leaving her face as he bared his hair-roughened chest.

      ‘Play with your breasts,’ he ordered softly. ‘Touch yourself.’

      The words should have shocked her but they didn’t—maybe because he’d managed to turn them into an irresistible and silky command. Should she tell him that her sexual experience was laughably lacking and she wasn’t sure how good she would be? But if she was going to do this, she needed to do it without any hang-ups. Tentatively, she spread her palms over the aching mounds and began to circle them as he’d demanded, and the weird thing was that once she’d banished her inhibitions, she started to feel sexy. She imagined it was Ariston’s hands tracing erotic movements over her aroused flesh. She wriggled impatiently and her heavy eyelids fluttered to a close.

      ‘No.’ Another soft order rang out in the moonlit bedroom. ‘Don’t close your eyes. I want you to look at me, Keeley. I want to see your expression when I make you come. And believe me, I am going to make you come, koukla mou. Over and over and over again.’

      Keeley’s eyes widened because his words were so graphic. So explicit. She got the distinct impression he was deliberately demonstrating control over her. Was that the way he liked it? To be totally in charge? To tell her what to do and show her who was boss? Her heart started to race because he was naked now, his erection so pale and proud amid the dark curls—and even the daunting dimensions of that weren’t enough to intimidate her. He walked over to where she stood, removing her hands from her breasts and replacing them with his lips, bending his head to kiss each nipple in turn, the tip of his tongue working expertly on the puckered flesh until she let out a small moan of pleasure.

      ‘I like to hear you moan,’ he said unsteadily. ‘I promise I’m going to make you moan all night.’

      ‘Are you?’

      ‘Neh.’ He tangled his fingers in the spill of her hair, anchoring her head so that she couldn’t look anywhere except at him. ‘Do you know how many times I have imagined you like this, Keeley? Standing naked in the moonlight like some kind of goddess?’

      Goddess? Was he crazy? A shelf-stacker from Super Save who was carrying too much weight? A wave of hysteria bubbled up inside her. She wanted to tell him not to say things like that but the truth was she liked it. She liked the way it made her feel. And why shouldn’t she feel like a goddess for once when his words were painting pictures in her imagination which were increasing her desire? Because this was probably the way he did it. His method. Sweet-talking her into submission with his practised lines. Telling her the things she longed to hear, even if they weren’t true. Presumably this was what men and women did all the time and it didn’t mean a thing. Sex didn’t mean a thing. That had been one thing her mother had taught her.

      ‘Ariston,’ she managed, through bone-dry lips.

      ‘Have you dreamed about me too?’ he murmured.

      She supposed it would destroy the mood if she admitted that all the dreams she’d had about him were deeply unsettling. But why destroy the mood with an admission which no longer seemed relevant?

      ‘Maybe,’ she admitted.

      He let out a low laugh of pleasure as he skimmed his hand over her tiny thong. ‘I love that you blow so hot and cold,’ he said. ‘Did you learn long ago how to keep a man guessing?

      Keeley bit her lip. His impression of her was a million miles away from the reality, but why puncture the bubble now? He obviously thought she was some kind of man-magnet and surely it would be a waste of time to try to convince him otherwise. Because she wasn’t expecting any future in this. She knew that only a fool would expect a relationship with a man like Ariston, but her heart still clenched as she acknowledged just how fleeting it was going to be. And if his fantasies about her were turning him on, why not play the game? Why not scrabble up what little knowledge she had and work with it?

      ‘Do you always waste so much time talking?’ she purred.

      Her softly spoken tease made the atmosphere change.