Page 36 of The Greek Tycoon's Baby Bargain

He could read from her body language that she was not intending to be predatory—he had never met a woman less predatory than Rebecca—and yet her innocent request was a barbed one. Did she realise what she was asking of him?

He knew that women could kill their desire in a way which men found excruciatingly difficult—but he could hear the fear in her voice and he sat down on the edge of the bed, aware of her soft warmth within touching distance, and expelled a ragged breath. This was going to be torture, he realised.

‘Now what are we going to do?’ he questioned, but she didn’t seem to pick up on the irony of his question.

‘Talk to me.’ She wriggled into the mattress. ‘Tell me about your brother and why you don’t speak any more.’

In the darkness, he gave a wry smile. If anything was designed to kill desire, it was concentrating on old feuds and old scores. He hadn’t thought of it for years—or maybe he just hadn’t let himself. Sometimes things happened and you simply accepted them, without asking yourself why.

‘It was male rivalry,’ he said slowly, realising that he was able to look at it dispassionately for perhaps the first time in his life. Was that with the benefit of hindsight—time and distance making things seem more understandable? Or was it just the way Rebecca had of asking—as if she wanted to know for reasons which mattered, rather than acquiring knowledge which she could one day use against him?

‘We lived on an island which was too small for two big personalities and we had a family business—which needed only one son to run it. It was a fight to see which of us would win control—like we had fought for everything all our lives.’

A fight he had grown bored with—and was glad that he had done so, he realised suddenly. For now he recognised that Kalfera would have swallowed him up—and that his character was much better suited to a life outside. He liked cities—creating them and living in them.

Rebecca turned her head to look at his shadowed profile. ‘I hope that our boys don’t fall out when they’re older.’

‘That’s out of our hands,’ he said softly and he reached out to touch her silken hair. ‘Go to sleep now, Rebecca.’

‘Mmm.’ She felt her eyelids growing heavy, as sleepy as if someone had slipped her a narcotic. Was it the absence of fear, the glass of wine—or because Xandros was now stroking her hair in that reassuring and rhythmical way which made her feel so safe and secure?

‘That’s nice,’ she murmured.

‘Is it?’ he questioned thickly. Was he crazy? Or was she being a little less innocent than he thought?

‘Mmm.’ Instinctively, she wriggled towards him, colliding with the warmth of his body. So was that. Oh, heavens—how could she have forgotten how good he felt? And smelt. And tasted.

‘Rebecca?’

‘Mmm?’

‘Go to sleep.’

‘If I go to sleep, then you’ll leave.’

There was a pause. ‘If I stay, you may get more than you bargained for,’ he said softly.

Her eyes opened and she looked up at him. He was close. So close. Her heart turned over. ‘Like what?’

‘Like this.’ Reaching out, he touched his fingertip to her lips, tracing around their curved bow with a brush so light it was barely there and hearing her instinctive intake of breath.

She released the breath in a low, shaking rush. ‘But I like that.’

‘Do you?’

‘Mmm.’

‘And what else?’ He began to stroke the silken skin of her neck—a whisper of a touch which made her shiver beneath him. ‘What else do you like, Rebecca?’

Her heart was hammering like violent rain on a rooftop. ‘Kisses,’ she managed.

‘Ah, kisses.’ Kisses were different, he realised as he moved next to her on the bed and lowered his mouth to hers—or, rather, this one was. Slow and drugging, sensual and yet almost innocent—it felt like kissing someone for the first time. Except that he could never remember it being like this before. Not with anyone. As if he were drowning in a sweetness so intense it made him want to cry out.

He felt her move even closer to him and now she was threading her fingers luxuriously in his hair. And suddenly he was cupping her face with his hands and staring down into her wide, darkened eyes and her parted lips. ‘Rebecca,’ he said simply. It was a question asked and answered in that one, simple word.

She began to unbutton his shirt, touching her lips to his chest and sliding the fine silk away from the broad shoulders. He groaned as she began to unbuckle his belt, her fingertips skating lightly over his hardness, and in that moment he felt all self-restraint slip away as she began to edge his jeans down.

With a little moan of pleasure, he peeled the nightgown from her, and then they were both naked—and never had this intimacy felt quite so intense. The silken feel of her warm skin beneath his fingers was like a glorious homecoming and a discovery all at once. Her hands were trembling—and so was her body as he began to explore the soft contours of her shape. Her new, womanly shape. This mother of his children.

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