Page 53 of The Enforcer

Was he actually inviting me to share in a private family affair? I was touched, but reminded myself no good could come out ofthis. But there was more than a trickle of excitement rushing through me. “A formal event?”

“It’s on a tropical island in Greece, a place so beautiful I’m certain it will take her breath away.” His touch was light, his fingertips barely brushing across my skin.

Yet every touch from the man created a fire that refused to be snuffed. No matter the danger or concern, he had a way of disarming my fears. I found myself crowding even closer, leaning into him to the point I was forced to place my hand on his chest. I felt light, as if I could fall at any moment.

Somehow, I knew he’d keep me from doing so. I also knew he’d do everything in his power to keep me safe. “But I think he’s aware the lady he seems taken by has a job in a different country and is leaving on Friday morning.”

“What if he’d offer a ride home in his private jet so she could return on Monday safe and sound? Would that be something she might consider?”

“You’re offering your jet?”

“I am. And all the trimmings.” He grinned and lowered his head by a couple of inches.

I was definitely intoxicated, my lungs burning from the intensity of the light musk and citrus filling my senses. As soon as he rubbed his thumb across my lips, I pulled it into my mouth, sucking on the thick digit while his eyes narrowed. His breathing was as ragged as mine, his entire body tense.

Just like mine.

“Maybe she’ll consider the offer.” He pumped his thumb inside for a few seconds before pulling it out, sucking on the tip as if savoring the flavor of my mouth.

For such a dangerous man, he could be extremely seductive.

“Hopefully, she’d consider the fact I’m not the kind of guy to take no for an answer,” he breathed as he lowered his head by another two inches. Now with our lips almost touching, I leaned even further against him.

“No?”

“Oh, no.” He’d had enough of our strange but intimate foreplay, crushing his mouth over mine as if eating a nectarine.

I instantly moaned, the sound filtering into the air around us. Just being able to touch him kept the fire roaring, my core red-hot. I clamped my fingers around his shirt, rising onto my tiptoes. I’d felt like a princess in the dress and I’d be lying to myself if I tried to claim I hadn’t enjoyed being the center of attention.

With him, it felt natural. As if we were a couple and had been for a long time. We fit together in every aspect and that was perhaps the most dangerous thing about my hunger, or the fact I wanted to attend the wedding.

He fisted my hair, holding me in place as he swept his tongue inside. He had an evocative way of exploring my mouth, taking his time when doing so. But with the heat of his body, I was even more lightheaded.

How could a man be so tender but so rough at the same time? He pulled me closer, sliding one arm around my waist. As he slowly lowered his hand, gripping my buttocks, I closed my eyes.He pulled me into his arms, his hold so possessive I should feel trapped. Instead, I was free as I’d been before, the passion exploding between us.

Every sound he made was a growl, his grip firmer than before. I wrapped my legs around him, pressing my knees against his hips. The passionate intimacy continued, his needs building. He was rougher than before, taking every drop of my essence as his own.

I sensed movement and the moment he broke the kiss, he turned us around in a full circle. His eyes pierced mine as he slowly walked toward the outside couch, lowering me down onto my feet and instantly pressing the tip of his finger under my chin.

“You were the most beautiful woman at the event tonight. Thank you for being by my side.”

His voice was deep and penetrating, and it suddenly felt as if soft velvet was being brushed across my naked skin.

“You’re very handsome in a tux, but if I can be honest, I prefer you in other ways.”

“I guess the lady will need to show me what she’s talking about.”

Using the tip of a single finger, I traced the ink shown under the sleeve of his shirt, taking my time as the heat continued to build. “What do these symbolize?”

“Family. Our crest.”

“But you have more.” I slowly began to unbutton his shirt, every few seconds darting my eyes to his.

“Yes. An eagle. A representation of freedom.”

“Do you feel free?” I tugged on the shirt until the material was released from his tuxedo pants. The urge to run my fingers across his six-pack abdomen was strong.

Christos shrugged. “You’re only truly free when you can enjoy every aspect of your life. Tell me, sweet angel. Are you free to accept the things you want, asking for more? Are you happy in both your personal and professional life, or do you always hunger?”

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