Latin Lovers: Greek Tycoons: Aristides' Convenient Wife / Bought: One Island, One Bride / The Lazaridis Marriage

Something deadly flickered in the depths of his eyes, then it was successfully masked. ‘All right, I heard you,’ he drawled mockingly and lowered her to the floor.

CHAPTER SIX

HOT AND FLUSTERED, Helen staggered back a few steps and frantically tried to assimilate what Leon had just said and done and why. He had told her she was hopeless at kissing, she wanted to yell at him, her body strumming with the opposing emotions of fury and a frustration she had never experienced before.

He had said their marriage was one of convenience… but whose? She asked the question she should have asked herself the minute he’d suggested marriage. Certainly not hers. She had left her home and come to live in a foreign country to accommodate him and his lifestyle, and if he thought for one second she was going to accommodate him in bed as well he was in for a rude awakening.

She grasped the bath sheet tightly around her. ‘What do you think you are playing at?’ Her eyes blazed a brilliant violet up to his. ‘Ours is a marriage of convenience and don’t you forget it.’

‘A convenient marriage, yes, but also a legal marriage, and as such you must know it is usual to consummate the union.’ His dark cynical gaze held hers and she stared back in appalled amazement. ‘If anyone is playing around here it is you.’

‘Me?’ she screeched. She could not believe the turn of events. ‘Are you out of your mind?’

He shook his dark head dismissively. ‘Oh, come on, Helen,’ he drawled as he lessened the space between them. ‘Who do you think you are kidding? I am no fool. Your earthy little moans, the soft flush of arousal colouring your skin are a complete give-away,’ he declared throatily, and reached out to brush a strand of hair over her shoulder, not the least fazed by her angry outburst. ‘You want this just as much as me. In some cases I believe a bit of game-playing can spice up a jaded sex life, but in our case it is not necessary, I can assure you.’

Helen stilled, her eyes widening in confusion on his ruggedly attractive face. She could not believe what she was hearing. His strong hands curved over her shoulders and he stared down at her, his firm lips curling in a knowing, sensual smile, all confident, virile male.

‘I will make it great for you, believe me.’

It was his colossal conceit that finally got through to her and from being confused she was instantaneously contemptuous. ‘No, you arrogant jerk.’ She hissed like a spitting cat and shoved him hard in the chest, catching him unawares and ducking free from his hands.

His face darkened, all traces of humour vanishing from his granite-like features. ‘It is a bit late for outraged virtue,’ he drawled derisively, his dark eyes narrowing on her flushed furious face. ‘You can’t pretend you are an innocent, Helen. You are an adult woman, with a woman’s needs. True, Nicholas might have curtailed your love life a little, but I saw the very convenient arrangement you had with Mick the security guard. And as for the outfit you wore today, it simply screamed sex. So no more games.’

He thought Mick was her sexual partner, and her fairy styled dress was sexy. She almost laughed out loud. The man must live on another planet. She shook her head in amazement at his misconceptions. ‘I am not—’ was as far as she got.

‘Oh, yes, you are.’ He looped an arm around her waist and deftly swept the towel from her body.

For the first time in her adult life she was totally naked in front of a man, and the shock held her rigid. Protectively she closed her eyes against the flush of embarrassment colouring her skin and instinctively she leant away from him. But that was a mistake.

‘Exquisite. Helen of Troy could not have been more beautiful.’ She heard his deep-throated murmur and her eyes slowly opened.

‘All my fantasies in one perfect little package,’ he husked, his incredibly dark eyes lifting briefly to hers and she was paralysed by the intensity of his gaze as he subjected her to a slow, raking appraisal.

For what seemed an age he just looked at her. Then his hand lifted and the pad of one finger traced the upper curves of her breasts and the valley between with a tactile sensuality that stopped her heart. She drew in a much-needed ragged breath. How could such a slight touch be so seductive? she wondered desperately. But in a second her desperation turned into helpless capitulation as he urged her closer. Her body leapt in response at the brush of his naked thighs against her own, her legs suddenly losing the power or will to support her as she swayed against him.

Her breasts felt oddly swollen, and a heady sensation seemed to thicken and slow the blood flowing through her veins. His long fingers splayed to cage the fullness of one breast in the palm of his hand and slowly, very slowly, trailed to the burgeoning rosy tip to nip ever so gently.

He murmured something in Greek but she barely heard as he delivered the same erotic delights to her other breast. A stomach curling thread of exquisite sensation pulled from her breasts to the juncture of her thighs and obliterated any lingering will to resist from her mind. She moaned low in her throat as a sensory pleasure she had never felt in her life before totally beguiled her.

His mouth replaced his fingers, and from new sensations of wondrous pleasure she was transported into the realms of aching need as she felt the flick of his tongue on her breast, his lips curling over the rigid peaks to suckle and savour each in turn. She gave an audible gasp, her back arching involuntarily as he gathered her closer still, trailing a line of fire from her breasts to her lush mouth.

‘Ah, Helen, you are beautiful and responsive, everything a man could want,’ he whispered softly against her lips, taking possession of her mouth with a deep kiss, his tongue probing with a skilful eroticism that was nothing less than a deliberate seduction of all her senses.

She closed her eyes, her hands of their own volition stroking over his broad shoulders and wrapping around his neck in complete surrender to the magic of his mouth. As if it was a signal he had been waiting for he scooped her up in his arms and carried her to the bed.

Her lashes lifted, her huge violet eyes met the smouldering intent in his, and for a brief confusing moment she wondered what was happening to her. He laid her on the bed, and shrugged off his robe, and her wonder changed to awe.

His body loomed over her, outlined in the glow of the bedside light. Naked, he was magnificent. Tall and golden, his broad chest shadowed with black body hair that arrowed down the centre of the hard muscles of his abdomen to widen and frame the proud strength of his fully aroused sex. Helen gazed almost with fear but mostly in helpless fascination, and when she lifted her eyes to his face she saw the slow, sensual burn in his smile as he lay down at her side.

‘You look as though you have never seen a naked man before, and yet we both know you have.’ He chuckled and leaning over her he caught her hands in one of his and placed them above her head. ‘But it is still a hell of a turn-on,’ he husked, his dark gaze roaming leisurely over her naked body, his free hand stroking down over her shoulder to cup her breast.

She didn’t know what he was talking about and suddenly fear overtook her fascination. ‘You mustn’t,’ she breathed, like someone waking from a dream. ‘You can’t,’ she cried, but her cry turned to whimpering moan as he lowered his head and sucked a taut nipple into the heat of his mouth again, while his long fingers toyed with the other.

He lifted his dark head. ‘I can and I must. I promised you it would be great, ma petite.’ He squeezed her breast and rolled the rigid tip between finger and thumb, tugging ever so slightly until a helpless groan escaped her.

‘And for that I must take you slowly.’ His dark head bent and his skilful mouth tormented and teased one breast and then the other before returning once more to take her mouth in a kiss that was a deliberate sensual onslaught designed to drive her mindless with pleasure, while his hands continued to caress her aching breasts.

‘You like me playing with your breasts,’ he taunted softly, raising his head, his dark eyes skimming down her writhing body. ‘I wonder how much more your perfect little body enjoys.’ His fingers traced the fine scar low on her belly. ‘Appendix?’ he prompted.

Helen tensed; should she tell him? But even as she pondered her answer his dark eyes lifted to hers.

‘Ah, Helen.’ The hand holding her wrists stroked down her arm and a thousand little nerves quivered at his touch. ‘No need to be embarrassed; so much perfection needs an endearing blemish.’ And he flicked her lips with his tongue, a glimmer of humour in his teasing caress.

Then with slow deliberation he kissed and licked his way down her throat, his strong hands forming and caressing her hot little body with a teasing tactile skill that made her burn. He nudged apart her legs and settled between her thighs, his dark head trailing lower to taste her aching breasts yet again, and down over her navel until his lips traced the slim white scar. The slightly rough scrape of his jaw against her soft skin was electrifying and she gasped and writhed beneath him, hungry for more.

Deep in her mind the thought of resistance flickered and died as she felt the heat of his mouth glide lower, his fingers touch the curls at the apex of her thighs. Her pelvis arched instinctively and she was lost, lost to everything except the incredible urge to lose herself in the drugging excitement, the hunger consuming her.

But Leon refused to be hurried. His hand traced her inner thigh and down her trembling legs, but avoided the one place where she ached for him.

Helen’s hands were now free to lash out at him, but she no longer had any desire to, utterly captive to the wildly exciting pleasure he aroused in her. She reached for his broad shoulders, her fingers delighting in the sleek, smooth feel of his skin. And when he lifted his head to take her mouth again she welcomed his kiss, her tongue twining with his in a greedy, untutored passion.

The clear male scent of him filled her nostrils. The expert touch of his mouth and hands, and the breathtaking eroticism with which he continued to explore her body, incited a fevered response in her she could never have imagined herself capable of. Hesitantly she drew her fingers down the indentation of his spine to his firm buttocks, then up over his belly to his chest. Her fingers curled in his body hair, audaciously scraping the pebble-like male nipples. She heard him groan and bit lightly where her fingers had been, felt his great body jerk, and, fascinated by the discovery she could affect him, she greedily raked her hands and nails over the hard sleek muscle and sinew of his magnificent body.

For Helen place, time and reality ceased to exist. She was totally consumed by the man and the torturous pleasure he aroused in her to the exclusion of all else. She moaned when his long fingers finally parted the velvet lips of her sex and found her hot, wet and wanting. The subtle mastery of his fingers stroking and exploring the moist centre of her femininity made her groan out loud as she experienced for the first time in her life the incredible tightening sensation, the intense build up of physical pleasure that the most intimate touch of a man could arouse.

‘You want me?’ Leon demanded, teasing her swelling bud with his fingertip. He needed to hear her say the word although he knew the answer with every tremor, every moan that escaped her lush mouth as he skilfully deepened the rhythmic pressure until she writhed beneath him like a wild thing.

With a shaking hand he donned protection. He was rock-hard with the need to be inside her, and he stroked her again and saw her violet eyes purple with desire. She was amazing, her perfect little body a firehouse of passion, and he didn’t think he could hold out a second longer. ‘Say the word, Helen.’

‘Yes, yes,’ she moaned.

Only then did he lift her and in one fluid movement thrust into her. She was small and tight and as he surged inside her he felt the unexpected resistance and heard her cry of pain. With every muscle and sinew in his body straining with a super human effort of control, Leon managed to still inside her. He covered her mouth with his, absorbing her cry, kissing her long and deep.

Helen went from frenzied to frozen in a second. Her body arched in an instinctive attempt to throw him off, and she tried to bite his tongue, her only thought to escape.

‘Stop it, Helen, don’t fight me,’ Leon husked against her lips. ‘Trust me.’ His hands flexed and gentled on her hips, and he withdrew ever so slightly and advanced again a little more.

Incredibly Helen had still been a virgin. His wife a virgin and, along with an overwhelming need to possess her completely, he was aware of a shockingly basic feeling of primitive male posession. She was his and only his. Using all his considerable experience, he stroked and caressed her. His tongue searched the moist interior of her mouth with a sensuality that reflected what he ached to do with her body. Knowing he had to give her time to accept him.

‘No, don’t,’ she moaned.

‘Shh, Helen,’ he husked softly against her mouth, his hand stroking up her trembling body to cup one lush breast. ‘I promise seconds from now you will be begging me to continue.’ He ran the tip of his tongue slowly around the outline of her mouth before seeking again the hot sweet passion within, while his agile fingers teased the tip of her breast.

A moment later Helen realised Leon was right. Miraculously the pain subsided and a quiver of renewed pleasure lanced through her as he continued to kiss and caress her. With a subtle thrust of his hips he moved in her, slowly stretching and accustoming her to his thick fullness, arousing her with ever-lengthening strokes.

Helen was quickly oblivious to everything except the strength, the power of him filling her, driving her inexorably once more to that torturous brink of ecstasy she could only imagine. She clung to him as though he were her world. Then with one deep, powerful thrust he sent her over the edge, her body convulsing around him in a tidal wave of earth-shattering mindless delight. She cried out his name, her legs locking fiercely around his waist, never wanting to let him go, never wanting the cataclysmic feeling to stop. She felt him tauten and heard his answering cry as his great body shuddered violently with the powerful force of his own orgasm.

His weight pinned her to the bed, but it was a weight Helen relished as the tempestuous waves of their loving gradually subsided, bringing her quivering body down to a state of languorous fulfilment.

She gazed up at her lover—her husband—utterly awestruck. Nothing she had experienced, or imagined, in her life had come close to the intense, raw emotion he had aroused, the overwhelming power of his possession.

‘Leon, I never knew, never imagined,’ she murmured, ‘making love could be so intense, so mind-blowing—pure magic.’ She smiled a slow soft curl of her lips and reached out a finger to trace the outline of his mouth.

‘Leon,’ she husked softly. ‘Leon.’ From never calling him by name if she could help it, now she wanted to shout it from the rooftops.

His name on her lips was a sensual invitation but, mindful of her recently lost innocence, one Leon knew he should not accept. But amazingly his body was telling him otherwise, and abruptly he rolled off her.

‘Helen,’ he responded with humorous indulgence, and, leaning up on one elbow, he surveyed his beautiful wife’s slender body, her tousled mass of silken hair, and soft, swollen-mouthed, blissful smile.

God! She was good—better than good, amazing. How he could have thought she was not his type was unfathomable to him now. She was everything a woman should be and the urge to kiss her lush lips and start all over again was incredibly instant.

Accustomed to sophisticated women who knew the score and to whom having sex was not much more than a pleasurable workout, he found it a novel experience to see genuine wonder in her huge violet eyes, and Leon almost succumbed. In all his thirty-nine years he had never known a woman like her, an innocent and a sensualist rolled into one. Then cynically he reminded himself she might be innocent in the sexual stakes, but in every other way she was as cunning as the rest of her sex.

Still, it was a terrific ego trip to know he was her first, and with that in mind his conscience told him he needed to give her time to recover, though his body was telling him otherwise. His dark eyes narrowed speculatively on her lovely face. She was made for sex, as of today she was his, and there would be plenty of other times.

With that happy thought uppermost in his mind he told her, ‘You are now my wife.’ A smile of sheer masculine satisfaction glinted in his dark eyes. ‘You are also full of surprises. Who would have imagined a sexy little lady like you, still a virgin?’ He shook his head in amused amazement, and slid off the bed to stand looking down at her. ‘I’m flattered you enjoyed your first taste of sex, Helen, and I must confess I am delighted to discover you have a remarkable natural aptitude for the act.’ And, turning, he headed for the bathroom before he lost control and succumbed to the temptation she offered and joined her in bed again.

He disposed of the condom and washed his hands. Another bonus with Helen, he thought complacently, after years of protection, he need never use another condom as he introduced her to every aspect of sex. His big body tightened at the prospect. He glanced into the mirror above the basin and rubbed his hand against his cheek, her skin was as soft as silk, and he could do with another shave. A wry grin twisted his mobile mouth. Not tonight, though—a rough chin might help him control his basic urges in consideration of his very new wife. He had a lifetime to enjoy the pleasures of the flesh with Helen, and surprisingly the idea of being tied to one woman for years did not faze him at all.

Helen’s dreamy gaze followed his retreating form as he headed for the bathroom, all long, lithe, muscular male. Her eyes widened in disbelief as the scratches on his back and tight buttocks finally registered in her love-hazed mind. Had she done that? Oh, God, yes. What had possessed her?

Leon, her convenient husband.

His departing words replayed in her head, and she came down to earth with a thump.

He hadn’t sounded very flattered, and ‘enjoyed your first taste of sex’ was not how Helen would have described the act. The very word ‘act’ offended her sensibilities, and in that moment with sickening clarity she realised what an idiot she had been. The most emotional, momentous experience in her life had meant little to Leon. It had been just that, an act on his part. A way to ensure the absolute legality of their marriage, he had told her so.

For a while she had allowed herself to forget he was a hard, cynical banker, a man who controlled vast amounts of money, a man born to take account of every eventuality to control everything, Nicholas and herself included.

She cringed at her own naivety, at her own wholehearted surrender to the man. His reference to her natural ability filled her with shame and humiliation. How could she have responded to him so shockingly?

The answer was in every pore of her body, the swollen fullness of her lips and in the tender tips of her breasts, because she wanted Leon in the most primitive way possible, but had never recognised the fact.

Instinctively her awareness of him had scared her from the very first time she had set eyes on him. She had told herself when they had met again it was silly to be afraid of the man. First impressions were usually correct, she should have remembered that, and run as far and fast as she could when he’d reappeared in her life.

It was too late now, she had married the man, and for Nicholas’ sake she was going to have to live with him, but not here in his bed. She leapt off the bed, her frantic gaze flying around the room. She had to live with him, but she did not have to sleep with him. He had said they had to consummate the marriage. My God! He had certainly done that, but she wasn’t hanging around for a repeat performance.

Finally finding her nightshirt on the floor, she picked it up and pulled it over her trembling body. Nicholas’ room was free, she would spend the rest of the night there, and find a room of her own in the morning. Brushing her hair from her eyes, she turned towards the door.

With all the arrogant confidence of a very self-satisfied man, Leon wrapped a towel around his hips and sauntered back into the bedroom. Not only did he have Nicholas, a true Aristides, an heir to inherit his fortune, it was a pleasurable bonus to have the lovely Helen as his wife. He looked at the bed, the empty bed, and his pleasure turned to cold anger in an instant.

He glanced across the room. She was almost at the door, her glorious hair falling in a tumbled mass of waves halfway down her slender back. ‘Going somewhere?’ he demanded, striding towards her, and he saw her shoulders stiffen as she slowly turned to face him. Her violet eyes that had looked at him with such awe not long ago now sparkled with defiance.

‘Yes, I am going to find a room of my own.’

‘This is your room,’ he stated angrily, not appreciating her rebellion. She had to know her place was in his bed, and he reached for her shoulders, his eyes raking over her. The cotton shirt was shapeless and ended mid calf. But it was the pattern that really caught his attention and diffused his anger somewhat. For a man accustomed to his ladies dressed in the finest silks and satins it was a real shock.

‘What on earth are you wearing?’ he asked incredulously. Two ridiculous teddy bears danced across her chest.

Helen hoped it was the picture holding his attention and not her breasts, but much to her shame she could do nothing about the sudden swelling in those same breasts. Leon with a slip of a towel slung around his lean hips was a breathtaking sight to any female between the ages of eight and eighty, she thought, and much to her chagrin she was no exception.

‘It’s my doubly-cuddly nightshirt,’ she blurted. The air between them was fraught with tension and she dragged in a slightly unsteady breath before continuing. ‘Nicholas likes it, he named it, and anyway it has nothing to do with you what I wear.’

‘Maybe not, though your exquisite body deserves the finest silk and satin,’ he opined as his hands tightened on her shoulders and he drew her closer, his dark eyes gleaming with such blatant sexuality it made her heart leap in her breast. ‘But it has everything to do with me where you sleep, and that is in my bed.’

She lowered her lashes over her too-revealing eyes. She could barely look at him without blushing. ‘No, thank you,’ she said with all the cool she could muster. ‘I want my own room.’

An amused smile played around his firm mouth. ‘So polite, but that is not possible, Helen, and anyway all your clothes are here. Surely you would not want to upset Anna by demanding she move them from our suite after one night,’ he prompted mockingly.

She didn’t appreciate the mention of Anna or his amusement. She glanced at the rumpled bed. Obviously what had just happened there was one big laugh to him, whereas to her it was the scene of her downfall and totally humiliating.

‘There is no “our” suite,’ she snapped. He was so damned arrogant, nothing dented his massive male ego, and she continued defiantly, ‘I’ll apologise to Anna for the inconvenience tomorrow, but I am not staying here with you.’

‘You don’t have a choice.’ His mouth tightened, his great body tensed, and all trace of humour vanished. ‘You’re my wife and your place is in my bed.’ His eyes narrowed on her flushed, mutinous face. ‘Don’t try my patience. I have told you before, I don’t like women who play games.’

Her face grew hot with renewed humiliation and fury. ‘I am not playing a game,’ she lashed back. ‘You said we had to consummate the marriage—well, we have. And I have no desire to repeat the exercise.’