Page 28 of Virgin's Night with the Greek

‘You said you don’t get to spend as much time here as you’d like.’

‘I don’t.’

‘That seems a shame.’

What was a shame was that they weren’t kissing. But he would not rush. He would not push. He’d promised her control over the proceedings and he would not renege on that. ‘The demands made of me are many.’

She straightened and pushed herself off the railing, turning to look at him with an unexpectedly smouldering gaze that made his heart crash against his ribs and nearly took out his knees. ‘Can you handle some more?’

‘Yes.’

‘Then show me upstairs.’

It was Leo’s patience that had given Willow the confidence to rein in her nerves and go for what she was now back to wanting quite desperately. By apparently reading her mind and stepping away, both literally and metaphorically, he’d given her the space and time she needed to get her head around the events to come. It had reassured her that whatever happened between them, whether a spectacular success or another abject failure, everything would be all right.

Correctly interpreting her words once again, Leo took her by the hand and led her back through the rooms and up the sweeping stone staircase, the urgency she could feel vibrating off him tempered with restraint. Keeping up when her limbs were as weak as water and her lungs were short of breath was a challenge, but within moments he’d tugged her down the landing and through an open door. One muttered word and the nightstand lights flicked on, and then, before the doubts she’d vanquished staged an unwelcome resurgence and got the better of her, she closed the distance between them and planted her hands on his chest.

As she slid them up, feeling his heart pounding hard and fast beneath her right palm, and wound them around his neck, his arms encircled her waist. She lifted her head at the same time as he lowered his, and their mouths met in a slow, sensual exploration, as if they had all the time in the world, as if he wanted to prove his intention to keep his promise of slow and careful and continue to give her space.

Melting against him, Willow battled the urge to deepen and intensify the kiss. Her head swam, the desire surging and the heat inside her rocketing, and when she felt the hard length of him pressing into her, she longed to fall onto the bed in a tangle of limbs and a wild shedding of clothing. But she stayed where she was, locked in an embrace that was the main course, not merely the starter, and which he seemed in no hurry to end.

When they did eventually sink to the bed—limbs weak, breathing ragged—it was in a smooth glide not a frantic tumble, and the kisses continued, scorching yet languid.

‘How do you do this to me?’ she breathed when he transferred his mouth to her neck and began to lay waste to the sensitive skin beneath her earlobe.

‘I should ask you the same thing,’ he murmured, his hot breath making her shiver.

‘I guess opposites really do attract.’

‘So it would seem.’

He rolled onto his back, deftly taking her with him. With one hand, he threaded his fingers through her hair and pulled her head down for another searing kiss. The other, he slid up back of her thigh, ruching her navy dress as it went, until he reached her bottom.

When he pressed her gently but firmly harder against his erection, Willow moaned softly. She was melting from the inside out. She couldn’t get close enough. Her head filled with his scent and her body was awash with heat.

She wanted him inside her so badly she ached, but this was where it had gone wrong before. How she’d felt hadn’t been enough. He’d been too much. She’d sensed his desperation and the moment his restraint had snapped. Maybe the depth of his penetration and the power of his thrusts had contributed to her discomfort that night. Maybe there was a way to help with that this time.

Lifting her mouth from his and breathing hard, Willow pushed herself up and shifted until she was sitting astride him. With shaking fingers, she started unbuttoning the buttons of his now badly creased shirt. She pushed the fabric away, set her hands on his warm bronzed skin over which lay a smattering of dark hair and felt a stab of giddy satisfaction when he tensed and hissed out a breath.

She lowered her head and put her mouth to his chest and felt a shudder rip through him. Grappling at the buckle of his belt, she kissed her way down his torso and the rigid muscles of his abs, lingering over the rises and dips of the contours.

‘No. Willow,’ he muttered, clamping a staying hand over hers when her intentions became obvious.

‘How badly do you want me?’

‘Can’t you tell?’

She could. He was rock-hard beneath her hands. She wanted to feel him, explore and taste him and see if she could make him shatter the way he had her.

‘Let me take the edge off it,’ she said softly, her heart pounding and her mouth watering at the thought of it. ‘You said I’d be in charge and I want to do this. I think it will slow us down. I think it will help. Tell me what you like. Tell me if I’m doing it wrong.’

With a rough groan of defeat, Leo lifted his hips and helped Willow remove his jeans and underwear. He shifted up the bed and fell back against the headboard while she settled between his legs and took him in her hand. Her fingers closed around him and his eyes shut as white-hot darts of pleasure speared through him.

There was nothing she could do wrong. Nothing at all. Every tentative stroke of her fingers, every slow pull of her hand blitzed his brain that little bit more. When he felt her breath on him, his head spun. When her mouth closed over him, his heart nearly leapt out of his chest. He made the mistake of opening his eyes and looking down, and had to grab fistfuls of sheet to stop himself from thrusting his hands in her gorgeous multicoloured hair and guiding her in the way he wanted.

Not that she needed instruction. If he’d been capable of thought, he’d have marvelled at the way she could read his body, despite her lack of experience. He didn’t have to tell her what he liked. Somehow, she instinctively knew.

Somewhere in the dusty recesses of his brain he was dimly aware that this should not be happening, that he ought to be focusing onherpleasure, but perhaps she was right. Alleviating the intensity of his need so that he could then take care of hers could well be the right call. From his point of view, it was the best call ever.

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