Pregnant By The Ceo. Kate Carlisle

book, a deliciously trashy novel, with high anticipation. But she had yet to finish the first paragraph. Perhaps because her life had taken a sudden turn and was full of more luxury and passion than she could have ever imagined in any fantasy.

      Rafael pulled the sunglasses off her face and set them down on the table. He placed both hands on the soft white cushion around her. For a moment, he looked down at her and she was overwhelmed by anticipation, by the scent of him, by the cool feel of his wet skin against her warm body.

      Then he lowered his mouth to hers.

      She closed her eyes with a sigh of pleasure as he kissed her, searing her bruised lips with the magnetic force of his own. She felt his bare skin against her body, the rough dark hair of his chest pressing against her warm, naked belly. They’d already made love at least a dozen times since they’d arrived here yesterday morning, at this beautiful private island compound borrowed from one of Rafael’s wealthy tycoon friends whom she’d never met. Two days of pleasure, of being served cocktails and hors d’oeuvres, of being waited on hand and foot. Two days of nothing but admiration and adoration.

      Was this what it felt like to every woman, to be a rich man’s mistress?

      Or was it just because the man was Rafael, and she blossomed beneath the miracle of his full, devoted attention?

      Whatever the reason, Louisa had never felt so beautiful or so desired. She’d never felt so happy. She felt like a different woman. Everyone here treated her as if she were some gorgeous young creature who deserved to be spoiled, her every whim catered to. They treated her as if luxury and admiration were her birthright, and they did it in such a convincing way that she almost was starting to believe it herself. Especially when Rafael kissed her like this…

      He pulled away abruptly. His gray eyes were the color of slate, dark with need.

      “You look beautiful in this bikini,” he growled. “You’d look even better without it.”

      She looked up at him. Bright sunlight traced the sharp edges of his cheekbones and jawline with shadow. He was so impossibly handsome. So impossible to resist. And here, in this fantastic place, she had no reason to resist him. She wasn’t a housekeeper here.

      She was Rafael’s mistress.

      “I’m glad you like the bikini, since you’re the one who insisted on buying it—along with the other four.” She gave a sudden laugh. “Honestly, Rafael, how many swimsuits do you think a girl needs for a two-day vacation?”

      He put his hand on the naked skin between her breasts, barely covered with small triangles of fabric. “If you’re the girl, I’d prefer none.”

      He slowly undid the tie of her bikini. Pulling it off her body, he dropped the top to the floor.

      She tried to cover herself with her hands. “The staff,” she whispered.

      He stopped her, pulling her hands away.

      “They will see nothing,” he said between kisses. “They are paid not to see.”

      He cupped her breasts, then suckled each nipple beneath the bright Greek sun. Slowly he licked his way down her belly before he lazily untied the strings of her bikini bottom. The reflection of the sunlight from the pool dazzled her, causing sparkles like diamonds in her vision. Or maybe it was just the way Rafael touched her…

      She closed her eyes. She felt him stroking her, as if she were a precious treasure. His desired, adored mistress. He kissed and licked down the length of her tanned belly, his skin now warm against hers. She heard him move, heard his swim trunks fall to the floor, and then he was on top of her…

      For just a moment. Her world turned upside down and she opened her eyes in surprise, realizing that he was now beneath her on the lounge chair, and he’d placed her astride him. His hard erection was jutting between her naked legs.

      Rafael met her eyes steadily.

      She took a deep breath. Then, with some trepidation, she touched him, stroking his shaft gently. He moved beneath her fingers, expanding somehow to even greater size in her hand until she wondered how it was possible he would ever fit again inside her.

      “Kiss me,” he commanded. She wondered for an instant exactly where he meant her to kiss him, then she felt him drag her shoulders up so he could plunder her mouth with his own. Below, she felt his hardness move against her soft belly, then between her legs, seeking entrance. He kissed her deeply, entwining his tongue with her own, and she involuntarily swayed her hips against him. She felt him jump beneath her, rock hard and huge. Her breasts felt heavy against his dark-haired chest, her nipples tightening to painful intensity as she swayed. The hot Greek sun beat into the naked skin of her back, against the warmth of his smooth skin.

      She ached for him. Ached. But he wouldn’t take her. Though she could see how greatly he desired her, he seemed to be waiting, to be taunting her and luring her to be the one to initiate. He wanted her to be the one to take him.

      With an intake of breath, she lowered herself over him, taking him a single inch inside her.

      She heard him gasp—or had the sound come from her own lips?

      She moved and swayed against him, wrapping tighter and lower in a circular motion, moving the tight molten core of her liquid need against his taut muscular body. With each circle, she moved lower, bringing his shaft deeper and deeper still inside her. She felt him tremble and gasp with his own need but he did not try to force the rhythm or roll her beneath him. He let her control the pace, and when she looked into his face, she could see what that cost him, how close and grimly he was hanging to the ragged edge of his desire.

      She finally took him all the way inside her, all the way to the hilt, and for a moment she could not move. She closed her eyes, savoring the feel of him inside her, wishing she could make the moment last forever.

      Then she heard the hoarse gasp of his breath and knew how she was torturing him. She smiled. She moved against him, riding him slow and deep, and the first shuddering wave almost immediately hit her. She gripped his shoulders and held on for dear life as her hips rode him harder and faster. She felt him shudder and shake and he cried out her name. Hearing his name on her lips, her own world exploded, blinding her with a million shards of light and darkness, of white sun and blue sea.

      She exhaled.

      When she came back to herself, she was lying on top of him. In wonder and amazement, she stared down at her pale hand splayed across his dark-haired chest. Though she’d been sunning herself all day, her skin was still pale and fair compared to his darkly tanned olive hue. Both his strong arms were still wrapped possessively around her body, holding her against him. Rafael’s eyes were closed as he slept, a smile of amazed joy still tracing his sensual mouth.

       She loved him.

      Staring at him, she could not deny it. Deny it? She gloried in it.

      She loved him.

      Then as she stared at his beautiful face, her smile faded.

      She still hadn’t taken the test.

      With an intake of breath, she lowered her head back against his bare chest, closing her eyes. She hadn’t had a single moment alone, and there wasn’t exactly a twenty-four-hour drugstore on this island. There was nothing here except the sprawling mansion…and tennis courts…and two pools…and stables…and a vineyard. This entire island was nothing but a rich man’s fantasy.

      Tomorrow, they would return to Istanbul. She would cease being Rafael’s cosseted mistress, and return to being his plain, efficient housekeeper. She would serve the guests at his dinner party, then begin preparations to assist the real estate agent in the sale of the house Louisa had created with such love. That she’d created for him.

      With her cheek pressed against the rough dark hair of his muscular chest, she stared out blindly at the shimmering blue sea beneath the swimming pool. She’d just started to feel at home in Istanbul. But now, just like Paris—just like Miami—the rug was being pulled out from beneath