She Can't Say No to the Greek Tycoon. Annie West

was the loveliest thing he had ever seen.

      Leaning forward, she cupped her hands in the water and sluiced it over her face in one graceful movement, then rose to her feet, gasping just a little as her hat tumbled off her head.

      Her skin glistened. Droplets trickled onto the soft, tempting skin between firm breasts that were partly exposed by the buttons she’d undone at the front of the sleeveless, cream-coloured fine cotton cropped top she was wearing. With him she was so uninhibited, her sexuality so natural. It blew his mind.

      Instinctively, his hands went to her upper arms to steady her. He heard the tiny huff of expelled breath as her soft lips parted at his touch, felt the inevitable answering excitement tighten his body.

      Those soft, full lips promised passion—the spectacular passion that neither of them could deny. He bent his head and touched them with his own, revelled in her immediate response. Driven as he always was with her, he parted his mouth from hers, going lower, to capture the crystal droplets that sparkled between her breasts. His hands followed. Hands and mouth.

      His hunger for her was as intense as ever, but, mindful of the tiny life inside her, he was now more than ordinarily gentle as he lowered her to the cool green earth. Ignoring the way her body arched impatiently into his, he slowly removed her clothing, the fever grew in her beautiful eyes as fine tremors of tension rippled over her gorgeous nakedness when his hands, a whisper of motion, moved over her engorged, divine breasts, down over the slight curve of her tummy to rest, trembling now, on the springy nest of curls between her parted thighs.

      He heard her near-desperate sigh of need just as he felt control slip away from him, and he breathed her name, thrusting with as much tenderness as he could find deep inside her as she wrapped her legs around his narrow hips in eager welcome.

      Later—how much later Maddie neither knew nor cared—Dimitri moved in her arms, his own arms releasing her, the smile he gave her soft and satisfied. Precisely mirroring her own, she guessed.

      It was always like this for them. They only had to touch each other and hot passion, driven need took over, Maddie dreamily acknowledged as he got to his feet, locating his stone-coloured chinos and getting into them with the economy of movement that was so much a part of him.

      ‘We forgot the picnic. Xanthe will be irredeemably upset if we take it back untouched.’ Humour warmed his fantastic amber eyes as they caressed her flushed features. ‘Get dressed, chrysi mou, while I sort it out.’

      Hoisting herself up on one elbow, the lush grass cool beneath her naked body, the slight breeze from the sea caressing her skin, she watched him move away to the lip of the green hollow where he had left the picnic bag Xanthe had filled for them this morning, missing his physical closeness already.

      A too-familiar ache took possession of the region around her heart. His absence from her side, short-lived though it was, still felt like a pain.

      When she was with him, close, talking, swimming, lazily exploring the island, touching, hands clasped, fingers entwined she could forget—lose herself in the wonder of him, even convince herself that he wanted a happy, stable marriage as much as she did, that she came first with him and always would.

      And their frequent lovemaking had nothing to do with primal animal lust. At least to her it always seemed so. There was passion, yes, but tenderness too, a feeling of closeness, of a bond of deep love that couldn’t be broken. And yet.

      Separated from him, even for a short while, at such a small physical distance, as she was now, she felt the doubts return, chilling her, eating into her. And the searing near-unbearable sorrow.

      At the start of this week she had made up her mind to go along with his fresh-start dictate, because that would put him off guard, make it much easier for her to bring her plans to fruition, to make her bid for freedom when they returned to Athens and put herself and her coming baby right out of his and Irini’s reach.

      And now she knew that whatever she did her family’s home and livelihood were safe, there was not a single thing to stop her.

      But every hour that passed had made her hate that decision, despise herself for reaching it. It had been made with her head, but her heart had swiftly overruled her brain, leading her to fall ever more deeply in love with him, wanting, needing to be with him always.

      The thought of leaving him broke her heart.

      Aware that Dimitri had almost finished laying out the food he’d taken from the cooler-bag on the vivid scarlet cloth Xanthe had provided, Maddie pulled herself together and hurried into her discarded clothing.

      And made her mind up.

      Despite his firmly stated order that they were to forget she’d ever wanted to end their marriage and were never to speak of it, she was going to have to. Would tell him exactly what Irini had told her. He would, in any case, staunchly deny it, in view of her pregnancy. That was more than a strong possibility. But at least he would know the truth of what had lain behind her headlong flight from him and their marriage. She owed herself that much.

      ‘Come, slowcoach! Remember our baby is hungry, even if you are not!’

      That slow, magical smile of his made her poor heart flip over. He had straightened, was standing tall and proud now, hands on his narrow hips, bare feet planted firmly, a little apart, on the sun-warmed sparse grass at the top of the bank. He was shirtless, his magnificent upper body exposed, his skin sleek, tanned olive by the Greek sun. Much too touchable.

      As usual his sexuality disorientated her, but her eyes shadowed as she walked towards him, and she knew she had to be strong and tell him the truth. But feed it in gradually, at the right opportunity. That way maybe she’d get the truth from him.

      Blurting it out like a bolshie teenager might release the knot of tension that coiled painfully inside her whenever she thought of what Irini had told her, of his aunt’s unpleasant comments about her gross unsuitability as a bride for her high-status nephew, remembered the tone of his voice as he’d assured the other woman that he loved her.

      Yes, getting it off her chest, where it festered, out into the open, might release that tension. But hurl the accusation at him and he’d instinctively and immediately deny it.

      She had to be more subtle than that.

      That look was back in her eyes again, Dimitri noted, his own brows lowering in response as she sank onto the ground beside the lavish spread. Perhaps time and patience on his part would remove it. The thing to do, he assured himself firmly, was to concentrate on the positive side of their marriage. Forget everything else.

      ‘How long can we stay here?’ Even to her own ears her voice sounded overly-bright, she decided helplessly as she obeyed his hand gesture and helped herself to one of Xanthe’s delicious stuffed vine leaves.

      ‘Bored already?’ Lightly said, but the thread of anxiety was there. He deplored it.

      ‘Not at all. Just interested. It’s so lovely here.’ The morsel eaten, she reached for a tiny cheese pastry, not looking at him until he told her, ‘Another two weeks, pethi mou, and then back to Athens to get the refurbishment of the nursery wing in hand, and get you to a top-notch gynaecologist. Sound good?’

      Glancing at him then, she ached with love for him, felt an onslaught of longing that was frightening in its intensity. He was so compelling, so beautiful. The hard, tanned planes of his sculpted features, the soft sable hair, the sensual line of the mouth that promised and delivered heaven, the warm golden eyes.

      The ache intensified. Two more weeks of ecstatic self-delusion and then.

      Reaching forward, he opened a flask and filled two glasses, telling her, ‘There are lemon trees here. Yiannis tends them and sells the ripe fruit on the mainland. And Xanthe makes the best lemonade you will ever have tasted.’ He handed a glass to her and tipped his own against it. ‘A toast. To our baby—may he or she live long and happy and much loved!’

      Her eyes misting as the delicious chilled liquid slid down her parched throat, Maddie thought, He does want our