Page 7 of Breaking the Annulment

He claimed her mouth again, and she yielded, a strangled moan escaping her. It was a twisted collision—nothing gentle or romantic, the fiery spark scorching her senses. Every logical thought screamedno, but desire flared white-hot, burning away all caution. “What are we doing?” she gasped.

He pulled back with an amused chuckle, but his hands began to roam her body, kneading and stroking her into a boneless, compliant puddle of goo. “You know what we’re doing. Have you given yourself to him already? Did you break our marriage vows?” He groaned. “No, don’t answer that. I don’t want to think about anyone else touching you right now.”

With an urgency born of need, he took her mouth, hot, fierce, demanding her submission. She didn’t notice him guiding her backward until her thighs hit a small side table. Papers and a decorative vase rattled. She clutched at his suit jacket, half wanting to fling him away, half wanting to pull him closer.

His hands splayed across her waist, darkly possessive. “You’re mine,” he growled. “Legally, physically—any way you want to spin it.”

She shook her head, but her protest died on a gasp as he lifted her bottom onto the table’s edge. Heat licked up her spine. She hesitated, suddenly unsure. “This is wrong,” she managed, voice ragged.

Michalis’s gaze burned with dark triumph. “No,” he countered, trailing a hand under the hem of the shirt she’d found, to the apex of her thighs. He groaned at what he found; her dress wasn’t the only thing she’d discarded. She wasn’t wearing any panties. There was nothing preventing him from easily sinking one long, thick finger deep into her wet heat. “It’s right, and you can’t deny you want it.”

She squeezed her eyes shut; a final surge of anger overshadowed by scorching need. He was right. She wanted to scream that she belonged to someone else, that she despised Michalis. But her body betrayed her, arching into his touch.

He pushed her thighs open, and his finger, calloused and rough from years of work, slid easily within her.

“You’re so wet,” he murmured.

She gasped as he added another finger. She was so sensitive—everywhere he touched, he left a trail of fire.

“Tell me you want it. Tell me you want me to fuck my wife.”

4

“Say it, Aurelia. Ask me to fuck my wife.”

“No…don’t ask me to say it,” she moaned, eyes squeezed shut, cheeks flaming. She was ashamed; a part of her craved him, ached for him to take what he wanted.

Michalis removed his hand, leaving her whimpering for more. Before she could react, he let go of her and planted both palms on the table on either side of her hips. His breath was hot in her ear as he yanked her hips forward. “Look at me,” he growled, low and dangerous.

Reluctantly, she obeyed, their gazes colliding in the muted light. His were darker than she ever thought possible, irises ringed with hunger and fire. “No more guessing, no games. This is happening. Can I take you the way I want, or do I need to be careful? Is it going to be your first time?”

She wanted to say no, wanted to lie. He didn’t deserve to be her first, but he would find out the truth anyway, and then she would be in trouble for lying. Again.

“I asked you a question, Aurelia. Have you ever been with another man?”

She shook her head in the negative, unable to say the words.

He shuddered, not aware of how glad he would be that she hadn’t given herself to anyone else until that moment; glad she hadn’t given herself to David. That told him everything he needed to know.

Without asking for permission, he scooped her up in his arms. She wasn’t one of those tiny, flat-chested, skin and bones kind of girls, but he carried her like she weighed nothing all the way up the stairs to the master suite. Had she been wearing panties, they would have been soaked.

Once they were through the doorway, he kicked the door shut. “Next question: have you ever touched yourself? Had an orgasm?”

Face blooming with color, she nodded.

He groaned. “Thank fuck.” He walked over to the bed. She thought he would put her down gently, but he surprised her, dropping her the last few inches.

She squealed in surprise, then laughed nervously. The scare sent adrenaline racing through her veins to mix with her desire, creating a powerful aphrodisiac.

He removed his suit jacket and ripped his shirt open, too impatient to unfasten each button, exposing rock hard abs.

Her eyes widened appreciatively. It was no wonder he’d been able to carry her so easily. He had the physique of a Greek god; big, dense and angular, with broad shoulders tapering to a trim waist, chiseled chest and abs, and rock hard arms.

“Open your legs.”

Aurelia obeyed, mind fogging with lust. He spread her wider, exposing her most private parts, before he wedged himself between her thighs. The feel of him against her bare sex was electrifying as he ground against her. His scent—a heady mix of expensive cologne and pure male—assaulted her senses, triggering another surge of desire.

“Wider,” he growled, voice strained. Her face flushed a darker shade of crimson, but she obeyed, widening her legs further to give him better access.

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