Page 50 of The Greek Tycoon's Unwilling Wife

Money I’ll give you but nothing else, he had flung at her, and now here he was, offering her nothing—nothing more than the cold-blooded passion he had for her, the purely physical need that he openly admitted was all he felt.

‘And I know you feel it too. That’s why I want you to stay. I’ll make it worth your while. I’ll give you anything you want—everything you want.’

I have a reputation for generosity to my mistresses. The words spoken outside by the pool—was it only a few hours ago?—came back to haunt her. And that was all she would be—his mistress. His wife in name but his mistress in reality. Because as his wife she should be loved, cherished—and she might hope to stay with him for life. As his mistress…

‘How long?’ she croaked out, her voice failing her. ‘How long would you want me to stay?’

‘For as long as it lasts. As long as it works. If we’re both getting what we want out of this, then I don’t see why it can’t last…’

‘Until we get each other out of our systems?’

Becca prayed that her falsely airy voice hid the agony that was squeezing her heart deep inside.

She would never get what she wanted out of this. Never. There was no hope of that, because what she wanted—what she longed for—was for Andreas to love her just as much as she loved him. And as she had given him her heart without hesitation or restraint in almost the first moment she had met him—and again here, when she had realised that she still adored him—there was no hope of that adoration ever being reciprocated.

Money I’ll give you—but nothing else. Not a damn thing else.

And yet her body cried out to her to accept—her body and her weak, foolish heart that begged her to take this, take the little he was offering and accept it. It was better than nothing. Better than having to turn now and walk away—knowing that if she did so there was no hope that he would ever let her back into his life again.

She couldn’t do that. She had had to walk away from him once, and the moment that he had slammed the door behind her had almost killed her. She couldn’t do it again.

I married you for sex—for that and nothing else.

And so when a weak, longing voice in the back of her mind whispered that Leander had said that Andreas had asked for her in the first few moments after he had regained consciousness—he had asked for her and perhaps…she pushed it away and made herself face the reality of what she was being offered.

And sex was all he wanted from her still. The thing that was different now was that she no longer had any illusions. She was no longer deceiving herself that Andreas loved her, she knew exactly where she stood, and in that knowledge was a desperate kind of strength.

In that moment the sun finally disappeared below the horizon, and the last rays of light fled the room completely so that there was only the small lamp in the corner to see by. And in the darkness it was easy to hide the way she was really feeling.

In the darkness she could step forward and put herself completely into Andreas’ arms. With her face unseen, her eyes and their betraying message hidden, she could put her hand against the warm strength of his chest, whisper his name, the single word, ‘Yes,’ and lift her face to his for his kiss.

And when his mouth came down hard on hers then all thought stopped, only feeling began. And that was when nothing else mattered. Only this man for whatever time she might have with him. She would take that. And she would never let herself dream of more.

CHAPTER TWELVE

THE light of the full moon through the window made the bedroom almost as bright as day when Andreas finally gave up on any hope of sleeping and slid from the bed. Pulling on his jeans, he paused for a moment to look down at Becca’s sleeping form, her body still curved as it had been when it had been pressed up against his, her face almost buried in the pillow.

She was completely out of it, lost in a world of total exhaustion, oblivious to anything. By rights he should feel that way too. The blazing passion between them had had full rein during the night, each hungry coming together more eager than the first, each tide of mounting pleasure stronger, each soaring, burning climax more mind-blowing than the one that had gone before. Never in his life had he known such pleasures, such delight in another person’s body—in the gratification it could bring to every single one of his senses. And in the end it had been only exhaustion that had ended it. The exhaustion that had plunged Becca deep into the oblivion of sleep and left him lying awake and restless, staring at the ceiling as the moon rose high out in the bay.

At first he had had no idea why he too couldn’t find the ease he needed in sleep. His body was sated, his clamouring senses quietened—for now anyway—but it was his mind that wouldn’t let him rest.

It kept playing over and over again a snatch from the conversation that he had had with Becca days before. A set of words that were the reason for the way he was feeling, the cause of his unease.

‘How long?’ Becca had said. ‘How long would you want me to stay?’

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