Page 41 of The Billionaire's Seduction Revenge

“Apparently you were as good as engaged. And yet you told me you’d never been seriously involved with a woman.” She crossed her arms over her chest, effectively pushing him away. “How ironic that you’ve spent the last few days accusing me of being a liar and yet you lie so easily and so well.”

“I didn’t lie,” he denied.

“So you weren’t engaged?”

A muscle jerked in his jaw. “It was a business arrangement,” he said after several beats, then sighed with resignation. “At least, it was for me. We’d dated a few times. The marriage was discussed as a way to keep her family’s interests in the business. I didn’t realise that she had more serious intentions. That she wanted more from me. The second I connected the dots, I ended it and passed the negotiations of the deal off to my CEO. That’s the truth, Emma. I didn’t mention it because it’s private—between Veronica and me—and because I’m ashamed, in all honesty, for having thought that her feelings would be as cynical as my own. I didn’t love her, but she loved me. I should have realised. I hurt her. Just like my father and grandfather made an art form of doing, I hurt someone, someone I didn’t love but liked and respected and cared enough about to want to make happy. There. Are you glad to know the truth of it all?”

She stared at him, frustrated—not with Vasilios but with her own reactions. Why did she care so much? Why was she fighting with him about this?

“It doesn’t matter,” she said, stiffly.

“To hell with that,” he denied. “It matters to me. All I could think about these last two days wasyou. I made more concessions than I needed to simply to get the deal through in record time because I wanted to return. So don’t think you can run away from me now.”

“I can run away,” she insisted, because it felt so important to assert that, to hold onto her independence and throw it in his face. “I can do whatever the hell I want.” She’d never make the mistake of being beholden to anyone as she’d been to Jack.

“But you don’t want to run away.” His voice was a demand. “You want to be here with me.” He pulled her body against his roughly. “For every moment I spent fantasising about you and this, I know you went through the same thing. Attraction like this is never one sided.”

“Isn’t it?” She asked, but the fight was leaving her body. She had to focus to remember that she was annoyed at him. But for what? Now it was just a general sense of annoyance, because Vasilios had had the temerity to leave at all, when she liked being made love to by him and she liked getting to see him at any time of the day or night.

“Come back and have dinner with us,” he said quietly.

She shook her head. She couldn’t be with Costa now and pretend she wasn’t wrapped up in something with Vasilios. But Vasilios misunderstood, apparently thinking she was rejecting him, because he growled, then reached out, grabbed her around the waist and lifted Emma, carrying her as though she weighed nothing, the rest of the way to the pool house.

She made a noise of surprise but as he crossed the threshold, Vasilios kissed her, hungry with need, and her own needs exploded like bursts of fireworks. She dug her nails into his shoulders—he wore, she realised belatedly, business clothes, a suit, and while he looked stunning in such a formal outfit, she wanted him naked,now.

Fingers roamed his body, teased him at first but then grew demanding, pushing at his jacket at the same time he shrugged out of it, one arm after the other so he didn’t have to put Emma down—he was too invested in kissing her, apparently, to let her go. It was a kiss of total ravishment, a kiss designed to strip a person to their bare soul.

She pulled at his shirt, lifting it from his trousers as best she could then tilting her head back, needing to breathe, because she had stars in her eyes and was losing her sense of all time and place. Only then did he ease her to the ground, her body against his as she slid until her feet touched the floor, and then Vasilios moved with as much urgency and hunger as Emma, pushing at her shirt until it actually ripped a little and she laughed, shook her head, because how could she not feel a rush of gratitude that he was driven as completely mad by this desire as she was? It was overtaking them both, overpowering sense and rational thought and any kind of decorum and who cared? They were alone, two consenting adults, and they both, clearly, wanted this.

When Emma was naked, Vasilios swore into the room, buried his head in the curve of her neck so his stubble tickled her decolletage and then he was kissing her again, undressing himself, pulling on a condom quickly—he now carried them with him, apparently, but Emma didn’t for a moment suspect that was attributable to anyone else.

This was for her.

He wanted her.

It wasn’t forever and it didn’t mean anything but Emma and Vasilios were caught in the same web of need and lust and that was okay—being here together made it acceptable to want someone so badly you could hardly breathe.

As if reading her mind, as if knowing, driven by the same hellish craving, he lifted Emma, wrapping her legs around his waist and thrusting into her all at once, his strength amazing, to be able to support her and push into her and she sunk down on his length with a cry that was pulled from the very depths of her soul, that rang through the room as proof of her delirium and relief and yes, her utter, and complete surrender…

11

MUCH LATER, AFTER THEY’D returned to Costa and somehow managed to pretend everything was normal when they now had to acknowledge the incendiary desire always flaring between them, after Costa had retired for the night and Vasilios had been able to enjoy Emma at his leisure—slowly, intensely, in a way that started to relieve the needs he’d been trying to control for the past two days—Emma lay with her head on his chest, her naked body entwined with his, so relaxed that it seemed almost impossible to believe they’d only known each just shy of a week.

“Can I tell you something?” She murmured, her voice slow, quiet. Sleepy. And was it any wonder? It was well past midnight, and their last few hours had been spent in a rigorous workout of pleasure and torment.

“Si.”

She moved a little, running her fingers over Vasilios’s chest. He closed his eyes, the sensations strangely fulfilling.

“He used to cheat.”

Vasilios stiffened. There was no need for her to elaborate on who ‘he’ was.

“I didn’t know. Not until after—after he died. It came out at trial. He’d probably say it was part of his undercover work but actually, he crossed a million lines. Maybe you have to, to be convincing. But he cheated.” She tilted her head, resting her chin on his chest. “And I know we’re not…you know, anything,” she said quietly, her lips twisted in an ambivalent smile that made him want to kiss away all her doubts. “But I hated the idea of you doing the same thing.” Her eyes dropped away from his. “That’s stupid, isn’t it?”

“When you told me you’d been married, I was jealous as all hell,” he admitted gruffly, surprised by the admission then glad for having given it. “This isn’t serious,” he said, “and we both know it’s not for keeps, but that doesn’t mean either of us enjoys the thought of sharing.” He kissed the tip of her nose, but when her mouth parted in a soft sound of surprise, he couldn’t resist dropping his lips to hers and kissing her properly. “For as long as you’re here and we’re doing this, I am yours, Emma, no one else’s. I promise you this.”

He caught her wrists then and flipped her onto her back so his eyes could bore into hers with the sincerity and truth of his words and then he entered her, desperate to show her he meant it, that she was more than enough to meet his needs, that there was something about her that made him feel as he never had before. But how could he tell Emma that when he wasn’t even willing to admit it to himself?

---