Page 20 of Virgin's Night with the Greek

‘So are you.’

‘Get on the bed. Keep the heels.’

Doing as he instructed, for once, Willow sank onto the bed and shifted up it, the moonlight spilling into the room turning her hair to silver and her skin to pearl. Leo kicked off his shoes and stripped off his trousers, shorts and socks with far more haste than elegance, dizzyingly aware she was watching his every move. Her gaze lingered on his erection and she let out a little raspy sort of sigh, which, ridiculously yet inevitably, made it swell and harden even more.

He came down beside her and rolled over her. His mouth fused to hers, her eyes fluttered shut and with a moan, she lifted her arms to his neck. She ran her hands across his shoulders and over his back and his muscles twitched at the contact. She hitched her knee up and shifted to fit herself better against him.

With desire drumming hot and hard inside him, Leo planted his hand on her leg and ran it up her silky-smooth thigh. He skimmed over the dip of her waist to her breast, and she arched into him. Desperate to taste more of her, he wrenched his mouth from hers and trailed it down her neck and over the gentle slope of her chest. When he closed it over her tight, hard nipple, she gasped and dug her fingers into his hair.

He could feel her trembling. Her ragged little pants stoked his need to unbearable levels. But he couldn’t lift himself up and thrust into her as he so badly wanted to. He had to take his time, even if it killed him.

Focusing solely on her and her reactions, Leo slid his hand down her taut abdomen and slipped it beneath the waistband of her pants. Instinctively or not, the knee she’d hitched up fell back, granting him better access to her slick heat, issuing an invitation he could not possibly refuse. He pressed his fingers against the centre of her pleasure and she jerked for a moment before relaxing and breathing, ‘Oh, my God.’

She pulled his head up and crushed her mouth to his, kissing him deeply and passionately while her hips began to respond to the movements of his fingers. His head spun as he slipped them inside her. His pulse hammered. She gasped and groaned and within moments she was panting and throwing her head back and crying out his name as she came apart in his arms, faster and harder than he could possibly have envisaged.

‘OK?’ he said, thinking he’d never seen anything so magnificent as he watched her recover and wondering if he’d ever forget the sight of it.

She gave him a languid smile that tightened his chest in the oddest way. ‘I’ve never felt so good in my life.’

‘It gets better.’

‘I don’t see how it could.’

‘Just wait.’

He moved away from her to locate and apply a condom, which took an age since his hands were shaking so badly and required more self-control than he’d ever imagined he possessed. Then he returned to her, his pulse racing at the excitement that glowed in her eyes and the flush on her cheeks. He parted her legs and positioned himself at her entrance and as he captured her mouth in a searing kiss, pushed into her as slowly and carefully as he could, noting her response, hearing her sharp, shuddery gasp, allowing her time to adjust.

Once lodged inside her, he held himself still so she could get used to the unfamiliar feel of him, every muscle he possessed rigid with the effort of restraint. She was so tight, so hot, so wet. He’d never experienced anything like it. His heart pounded. Need roared through him. His control was hanging on by a thread that was fraying by the second, but he clung on to it, because he would not give in, he would not allow his baser instincts to dominate, until she shifted and took him in further and suddenly something inside him snapped.

An overwhelming need to move gripped every cell in his body. He craved the delicious friction of his flesh sliding against hers with a desperation he couldn’t contain. His vision blurred and his head spun. He had to be in her deeper and harder, and as he helplessly succumbed to the drugging desire, she felt so incredible, so unbelievably good, he was losing what was left of his mind.

But then, suddenly, she was twisting her head to the side, pushing at his shoulders, his chest, struggling to dislodge him and kick him off. She was sobbing, ‘Stop. Please. Stop,’ and everything in him and around him, his body, his heart, the room,everything, instantly froze.

In response to the plea that tore from her mouth, Leo jerked as if struck, immediately pulled out of her and reared back. Despite the moonlit shadows, Willow could see that he was as white as the sheets tangled around them. Horror and confusion replaced the wild heat and fierce concentration that had dominated his expression a moment ago, and as she instinctively winced at the acute discomfort of his sharp withdrawal, she wished with all her heart that she hadn’t had to call such an abrupt halt to the proceedings.

She’d been having such a good time. The flattering urgency with which he’d yanked her from the car and bundled her into the lift had heated the desire simmering inside her to boiling point. When he’d swept her into his arms and carried her through his apartment to his bedroom, she could have swooned. She’d had a sense of space and air, of high ceilings, thick curtains and ornate decoration, but then he’d removed her dress and his clothes and that had been that for coherent thought. Her nerves had simply melted away. There’d been nothing remotely ice-cold or robotic about him then. She’d never felt so desired.

She’d been right about trusting him to give her what she’d so desperately wanted. The fierce need that had blazed in his eyes as he’d joined her on the bed had set her on fire. The orgasm he’d wrung from her—so much better anything she’d managed herself—had been mind-blowing, and the intense pleasure she’d experienced had gone on and on.

But she’d been wrong about it being enough because when he’d thrust into her, God, it had hurt. She’d felt as if she’d been impaled on a red-hot poker. She’d willed the stabs of needle-sharp pain to lessen, to disappear altogether, hoping against hope that they related to her inexperience, but then he’d started moving and they hadn’t. To her distress, they’d worsened, the searing pain spreading a throbbing ache to her abdomen, demolishing the desire and dominating her thoughts, and she simply hadn’t been able to bear it.

How naive she’d been to assume that everything would be fine, despite all she knew about her condition. How she wished she’d told him about it back in the car when she’d had the opportunity. She’d been right to be scared all along. Right to avoid sex. She should never have tried to convince herself otherwise. But regret and analysis would have to wait. She had a man in a state of shock to deal with.

‘I hurt you,’ Leo said gruffly, staring down at her, stunned, clearly appalled, before lifting himself completely off her and jerkily moving away.

Grabbing a sheet and pulling it over herself, Willow rolled onto her side and instinctively curled into the foetal position in an attempt to ease the pain.

‘Well, yes,’ she admitted, as to her relief the stabbing began to fade. ‘But it wasn’t—’

‘I’m sorry.’ He swung round to sit on the edge of the bed, his broad back to her, and shoved hands that looked to be shaking through his hair.

‘It’s not your fault.’

‘I was too rough.’

What? ‘No,’ she said firmly. ‘That’s not it at all. Really.’

‘I can’t believe I missed something,’ he said hoarsely.

---