Page 68 of Bedding his Innocent Mistress

His smile was hot lava. “I’ve been for a run. And a swim. I’ve checked on you three times but you were snoring your little heart out.”

Her face paled. “Snoring!?” It was mortifying. She squeezed her eyes shut and swallowed. Her thirst was extreme.

“Beautiful, perfect snores that made your beautiful, perfect breasts lift and fall in a way that made me ache to wake you with far more than a kiss.”

Butterflies flipped her stomach on its side. “Mr Konstanides …”

He laughed. “This is what you would like to call me?”

Her cheeks flushed and she dropped her gaze. “I didn’t catch your name.”

There was something so incredibly sexy about her formal address that he didn’t supply it. “How do you feel?” He repeated his initial question and strolled with a lithe athleticism towards her.

“Crap,” she said honestly. “Like I drank a bar.”

“Not quite,” he consoled, lifting a hand to cup her cheek. “Though not for want of trying.”

“I’m so embarrassed,” she whispered, dropping those eyes so her long, fan-like lashes once again caressed her soft cheeks.

“Of what?” He prompted.

“I don’t usually, um, drink like that. Or talk to men. Men like you. Any men.” She furrowed her brow and a crinkle formed in the middle of her forehead. “Did you book this room for me?”

His smile told her nothing. He stared at her, and her tummy continued to flip and flop from side to side until she thought she was going to be sick.

“Because I don’t remember giving my card over.” A hot sweat broke over her skin. She had booked her ticket using the emergency credit card her parents had provided her with when she’d started at university. Saphire had intended to keep all expenditure out of the bank accounts she shared with Jordan. All the better for him to have no freaking clue where she was.

“You didn’t,” he assured her. “You were in no condition to do any such business.”

Her face blanched. “Please don’t remind me. I’m so ashamed. I was … I was stupid yesterday.”

“You were running

from something.”

Her eyes widened. “Did I say that?”

He had been right! The satisfaction was dwarfed by curiosity. He dropped his hand from her cheek to her waist. “You did not need to. It was obvious to me.”

She swallowed. His fingers were burning through her dress. “I was upset,” she said factually. “But that’s no excuse. You could have … I mean … we didn’t …”

“Have sex?” He prompted, a smile tickling the corners of his lips.

She nodded jerkily.

“No.” The word was dragged from deep within his soul. “We didn’t sleep together.” He dropped his lips and pressed them to her neck. She startled and then moaned. It felt so good. It was so wrong, but so right. “Not yet, anyway.”

Pleasure was a fire bursting just beneath her skin. She lifted a hand to his chest, intending to push him aside, but her fingers splayed wide and then her other hand wrapped around his waist to grip his back. He was so warm, and so firm.

“I don’t know if I can,” she whimpered, but her body was weakening against his and they both knew that there was no denial she was capable nor inclined to give.

“Saphire,” he murmured, lifting his lips to take her earlobe between his teeth. He stroked it with his tongue and she felt her insides turn to a huge puddle of passion. “You can. I think you will. But today, you should recover.”

“Recover?” Her heart turned over again. How much had she revealed to him?

“You had a fair amount to drink last night. I didn’t see you eat on the flight. You are in no state to enjoy what I’d like to do with you.”

Pleasurable anticipation warred with disappointment. He was completely right. She felt dreadful. And yet … she suspected he could obliterate all of that.

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