Rebecca Winters - Irresistible Greeks - Dark and Determined

His shudder of pleasure as her palms made contact with his skin thrilled her.

Then she wasn’t capable of thinking anything because his other hand had slipped beneath her top and was covering her breast. She started trembling, the full force of her attention locked onto those long fingers as they began to stroke and caress. A hot tide of desire swept down through her body. She gasped out feverishly when he grazed her nipple, already standing taut and stinging with the most delicious heat.

She moved restlessly against him, encouraging him with the unknowing instincts of a fledgling siren. The kiss was a drug she wanted to overdose on, as was the feel of his hands stroking slow circles of exploration across her back, her waist, her ribs, then back to her breasts. But, when he clasped her hips to ease her into even closer contact with his body, she felt the power of his arousal with a start of shock that was enough to prize her mouth free.

His eyes were as dark as she’d ever seen them, bands of heat firing across his taut cheeks. ‘You’re playing with fire, glikia mou,’ he warned very seriously.

She might have winced or blinked. In truth she no longer knew what she was doing. His lips were still parted, darker and fuller because of the blood pumping into them. She felt the beating pulse of her own swollen lips as she quivered out a small, trembling breath. And that long, hard shaft of male arousal still pressed against her abdomen, causing a wash of moisture to gather between her legs.

Legs that were threatening to break down beneath her. ‘So, do we stop?’ He tried again, the words arriving from somewhere so deep inside him the question was barely clear enough for her dizzy brain to grasp.

Stop … She picked up from what felt like a long way off. Stop, let him go, remember exactly who he is. Rolling her tongue across the pulsing warmth of her lips, she tried to find the strength to give the right answer but it just would not leave her aching throat. His eyes held her eyes, dark and deep and ever so slightly mocking, but she still found herself drowning in them, in the fierce edge of desire she could feel holding every one of his muscles taut. In the end he released a low sound like a laugh, then the muscles in his arms flexed. For a horrible second she thought he was going make the decision for her and put her away from him. In sheer panic, she parted her lips again and whispered, ‘I don’t want to stop.’

A single flame shot from his eyes and then he was reclaiming her mouth with a deep, sensual fervour that flung the whole thing onto a different level, and he was firing up so many senses it was all she could do just to hang on.

Her hands were buried in his hair now, her body moving to the sensual rhythm of his. Her legs felt so tingly and weak she could barely stand up on them and, as if he recognised the problem, he bent and scooped her up against her chest.

The kiss did not break as he crossed her bedroom; it still clung when he set her down beside the bed. She didn’t notice the efficient way he dispensed with his robe and her top—not until she felt the coolness of cotton against her back. She opened her eyes in time to soak in the sheer masculine beauty of his naked bronzed torso as he lowered himself down beside her then drew her back into his arms.

‘Anton …’ she whispered, and did not know why she was whispering his name like that.

He seemed to understand, though, because he fed out unevenly, ‘I know,’ and stroked his hand down the flat surface of her front then beneath her pyjama bottoms, sending shockwaves of taut, tingling sensation skimming across her flesh.

She cried out, in no control of the way her hips arched up towards those seeking fingers. He caught her up to him and completed the smooth, invading stroke into the pool of moist heat and watched her as she just went wild. Her heartbeat thundered out of control as his tongue darted into her mouth and began a sensual mimicking of what his fingers were doing to her while she clutched at his shoulders and shook.

He was hot and hard and felt like satin. Every sensitised nerve in her body craved his attention; every glide of his fingers, every touch with his mouth, drove her deeper and deeper into a yawning black chasm filled with sparkling, bright starbursts of blinding light. She writhed and quivered and he kissed her so deeply and so often that she never got the chance to even think of pulling back from the brink.

The trail of his fingers dipped into that molten place and sent her twisting restlessly onto her side, her limbs curling upwards in a roll of ecstasy. He muttered something and gently straightened her out again, trailing away her final piece of clothing, then deepening that limb-curling caress until she was sobbing his name out again and again. She vaguely noticed that there was a raw, trembling urgency vibrating behind the determined patience with which he was arousing her, higher and higher, until she wondered if she was going to pass out through lack of oxygen getting through to her lungs.

Although she was breathing in short, frantic gasps she did not feel she was gaining anything from it.

But all of that raw-edged patience fled when she touched him. Her restless fingers brushed against him by accident at first, then not by accident when she discovered the thick velvet beauty of his long, swollen length. He captured her wrist and drew her hand away, shuddering as he did so, and cursing softly as he pushed her flat then rolled on top of her, overwhelming every inch of her slender frame with his stronger, harder more powerful body.

He let her feel his weight, the sweat-slicked heated tremors of his pleasure. Her breasts were crushed against hair-roughened hot skin, their distended tips so sensitised she could barely stand the aggressive rasp. When he let go of her wrist, she wrapped her arm around his shoulders, not thinking of anything else but the aching need for more of what he was making her feel.

His mouth did not leave her mouth, not once, keeping her so sunk down in the swirling mists it did not occur to her what was going to come next until it was too late. He settled his hips between her spread thighs and she felt for the first time the probe of his manhood nudge against the tender heart of her sex just a short, blinding second before he drove inside, forging his route like a conquering warrior claiming his prize.

It was too late for her to warn him as the screaming shock of sudden agony split through her like forked lightning, arching her spine and clenching her muscles on a high-pitched, pained cry.

Anton froze like a man turned to marble. He stared down at her as she flicked open her eyes. Bright, spearing sparks of vivid blue attacked his shock like piercing pin-pricks. He had never felt so totally shattered about anything in his entire life.

‘No,’ he ground out unsteadily.

Zoe couldn’t say anything; she was feeling so very shattered herself. His full pulsing length was buried inside her, no thought to hold back any of it, no compromise at all. And her muscles were working along him like some hot, bloody torment.

‘You cannot be,’ he ground into her shock-whitened face.

‘I hate you,’ she choked, then she cried out again for a completely different reason when he tried to withdraw. ‘Don’t you dare—don’t you dare!’ she gasped then. ‘Oh God,’ she groaned when he stilled instantly, severe tension scoring his face. ‘I hate you,’ she moaned out a second time. ‘You did not deserve this but I want you—I want you!’

Reaching up, he pushed her damp, tangled hair away from her face. His fingers were trembling, Zoe noticed. Remorse glittered in the heavy darkness of his eyes. But when he made a gentle move with his hips it wasn’t pain that made Zoe writhe and quiver, and the remorse in him turned into desire as he set a hot, sensual rhythm that lost her in layer upon layer of erotic excitement. Her eyes clung to his with an intensity which heightened the whole experience. He kept kissing the increasingly more helpless gasps from her lips.