Page 47 of Greek's Temporary Cinderella

It was a promise he would honour. But tonight, he knew, as he replaced his toothbrush, would be an ordeal.

For himself.

Heaviness still weighing him down, he cut the light above the sink, saw his bleak reflection vanish, and went back out into his bedroom.

Where Eliana was waiting for him in his bed.

She saw him stop short. Sudden doubt assailed her, then vanished. She lifted her hand to him. Her other hand was holding the quilt across her breasts. Her hair was loose on her bare shoulders.

She said his name. Her voice low and tender.

For a moment he did not move.

And then—

He was there, taking her hand, pressing it tight, coming down to sit beside her, his eyes pouring into hers. They were alight with urgency—and with doubt. Searching for her meaning.

‘Is this what you want? Eliana—tell me. It must be what you want—only what you want. Or—’

She did not let him finish. His low, husky voice had been fraught, questioning. She lifted her other hand, placed a finger across his mouth. The movement made the quilt slip, exposing one breast, but she did not mind. How could she? She was here for him—and for herself.

For us both.

Her eyelids dipped and she raised her mouth to his, the hand that had touched his now cupping his cheek. It was rough to the touch, but she did not mind that either, smiled at it as she kissed him.

Not urgently, or on fire, but sweetly, softly—tenderly.

She drew back, her hand in his, pressing him back. She held his gaze again.

‘This is our time, Leandros.’ Her voice was soft and low and very, very certain. ‘This time is ours...’

Again, for a moment he did not speak—not with his voice. But with his eyes... She felt her breath catch. Oh, with his eyes he said all that she wanted to hear.

‘Eliana...’ He breathed her name, and it seemed to her a blessing and a gift.

A redemption for all that she had done to him and the pain she had caused—to him, and to herself. She did not ask for forgiveness, only for this. For this coming together now, as they would have done so long ago.

This is our wedding night.

The words were in her head, and it seemed they were a gift and a blessing too.

And then there were no more words, only the sweetness of his kiss and all that came thereafter, as gently, tenderly, he lay her back and finally made her his own.

She was softness, she was sweetness, she was wonder. And a delight to savour and behold...to tenderly caress and to possess. But unhurriedly and carefully...oh, so carefully. The flame between them was a gentle one, a slow-burning one, taking its time. For why should there be a rush? They had all night.

He had one focus only: that this time he would make amends. Last night there had been a desperate hunger, an urgency to assuage his needs and hers. Tonight he would be as gentle, as patient, as she desired—as he desired too. And with each trace of his lips, of his fingertips, with the smoothing of her sweet delights with his palms, from breasts to thighs, and all that lay between, he would give her the slow, sensuous pleasure that he was receiving from her in return.

This was passion—oh, this was passion, indeed. But slowed to a tempo that Leandros knew with every instinct he possessed was what this moment needed. What Eliana needed.

And what I need too.

Time—just time. So simple and so precious. As precious as the little sighs of pleasure that sounded in her throat as he drew from her, slowly and sensuously, the delight that he knew he could give her, felt her own body’s response to his. Slowly and sensuously, he took her on that journey with each soft kiss, each languorous caress, taking his time, cupping her breasts that swelled to his touch, trailing his fingertips along the silken columns of her thighs, the delicate folds, drawing from her yet more low sighs of soft, melting pleasure.

She wound her arms loosely around his neck, gazing up at him. There was ardency in her gaze, invitation in her smile. And when he moved his body over hers that invitation was in her body too. Slowly, with infinite care, infinite patience, he eased into her, pausing, as his lips moved across hers tenderly and reassuringly, to let her body accommodate him.

He heard her sigh—with completion, with acceptance. Felt her enclose him, hold him, fold around him. Bring him to his own moment...

He lifted his mouth from hers. ‘Eliana, I can’t—I can’t...hold back...’

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