Sarah Morgan - Greek Bachelors - The Ultimate Seduction

What did she have in common with a guy who owned a palace in Morocco that he rarely visited? Evidently he had as many options in property as he must surely have with women. Where did she fit in? For the first time she was curious about her predecessors. What sort of women did Giannis get involved with? Was she typical? Suddenly she wished she could afford to buy the kind of magazines which featured photos and features on the lifestyles of the very rich. But, curious though she was, she knew that she would not be buying any such publications in the near future. She had taken three days out from working and earning—a decision that would ensure she was living right on the breadline for the next month.

When Maddie emerged from the bathroom in a towel, she was ushered into yet another connecting room, where a smiling English-speaking beautician and her assistant were waiting to offer a bewildering range of treatments. Disconcerted by the situation, Maddie agreed to have a massage because she really didn’t know how to keep on saying no without causing offence. Fragrant rose-scented oils were rubbed into her skin in what ultimately proved to be a wonderfully relaxing experience. She then allowed the talented duo to style her hair and do her nails. Afterwards, she felt amazingly sleepy. Although she could not find her case, a gossamer-light turquoise silk kaftan was draped on the bed. Too weary to go looking for her clothes, she put it on and lay down for a nap.

When Krista Spyridou called Giannis that same day, his jet had stopped off to refuel in Paris.

‘I’ve come up with a new theme for the wedding,’ his fiancée announced happily.

Giannis grimaced.

‘Antony and Cleopatra!’ Krista gushed.

‘What a killer precedent that would be,’ Giannis told her. ‘Anthony and Cleopatra’s marriage was bigamous.’

‘I don’t believe you!’ she wailed. ‘They didn’t show that in the movie I saw.’

‘Anthony already had a Roman wife.’ Impatience gripped Giannis as Krista lamented that news as seriously as if he had just informed her of a death. Had he ever seen her read a book? Discuss anything remotely intelligent? Giannis frowned. She had yawned when he’d taken her to visit an archaeological dig at one of his properties in Athens. The sheer depth of her ignorance was starting to irritate him.

By the time Giannis arrived at his remote fortress hideaway in Morocco the sun was casting arrow-shaped shadows through the intricate window screens. He spoke to Hamid in Arabic. Ascending the winding staircase, he strolled into the master bedroom suite as smoothly as a leopard on the prowl, and came to a halt only when he saw Maddie lying on top of the vast bed. Her flame-coloured hair was streaming like a banner of silk off the pillows, her pale, delicate profile marked by the prominence of her voluptuous pink mouth. Her low neckline exposed the deep cleavage between the snowy white slopes of her full, round breasts. The rich, ripe curve of her bottom strained against the fine silk fabric. The instant rush of blood to his groin almost hurt. He was enthralled by her sex appeal and the intensity of his desire.

‘Maddie…?’ he murmured, using the diminutive for the first time.

Shifting position, Maddie opened her eyes and saw him standing several feet away. Her breath snarled up in her throat. He needed a shave. The shadow of dark stubble over his strong jaw, however, only enhanced the hard masculinity of his lean bronzed features. She raised herself on one elbow. ‘I must’ve fallen asleep.’

Giannis took off his gold silk-lined jacket and tossed it on a chair with easy grace. ‘I was held up in Paris…my apologies. But it’s wonderful to find you here waiting for me, glikia mou.’

For a split second Maddie didn’t quite follow his meaning, and then his confident path round the very grand and elegant room pitched her brain back into gear. ‘This is your room…er…your bed?’

A wolfish smile slashed his wide stubborn mouth. ‘You sound like Goldilocks.’

Her colour heightened because she felt very foolish. ‘I didn’t realise. I should’ve guessed.’

The gilded bronze brilliance of his gaze glinted below his dense black lashes. ‘Don’t tell me I’ve flown halfway round the world to be exiled to a guest suite?’

Picking up on that measured tone of male disbelief, Maddie scrambled up on her knees, anxious to take the heat out of the situation. ‘No, I’ll use a guestroom—’

‘Over my dead body,’ Giannis incised without hesitation, when she dared to float that proposition. ‘You stay. We share. At the very least I will hold you in my arms through the night.’

‘But I thought—’

His stubborn jawline clenched. ‘And I thought otherwise,’ he cut in with ruthless purpose. ‘So we must compromise. I’m a very physical guy, and it is possible that you are asking me to be something I can’t.’

Although her face was hot, Maddie breathed in very deep and looked levelly back at him. ‘You have such a forceful personality,’ she told him gently. ‘But I’m sure you don’t mean to put pressure on me.’

The silence simmered like a cauldron on the boil. An almost imperceptible rise of dark blood warmed the imperious slant of Giannis Petrakos’s classic cheekbones. ‘Naturally not.’

‘Of course, if you feel I’ve come out here on false pretences, ‘Maddie added uncomfortably, ‘I’ll understand if you think I should leave.’

It was a very rare experience for Giannis, but that unexpected suggestion totally silenced him. She was not voicing her offer as a threat that he could condemn as sexual blackmail. She appeared genuinely awkward and unhappy, and that contrived to touch both his strong pride and his sense of honour. He was too macho a man to like the suggestion that he might use his potent strength of character to ride rough-shod over her reservations about sleeping with him again. Irritated though he was, he was still not prepared to let her go and replace her with a more sycophantic female. Madeleine Conway had haunted his thoughts for the best part of an incredibly frustrating week, and the past few days had only been rendered bearable by the knowledge that she would be waiting for him in Morocco.

‘Ohi…no, that will not be necessary,’ Giannis conceded in a driven undertone, his lapse into his native Greek an indicator of his more volatile mood.

‘I don’t want to leave…this is the most fabulous place,’ Maddie confided, glancing up at him from beneath her silky lashes.

The shy provocation of that single glance sent hunger pounding through his lithe, powerful frame. He sank down on the edge of the bed and crushed her lush pink lips under his, his tongue ravishing the tender reaches of her mouth with a carnal skill that made her shake in the strong circle of his arms. ‘Why are you making me wait?’ he ground out thickly. ‘I ache for you.’

Her shapely body was rigid with tension. Her nipples were stiff straining buds that she was afraid were visible beneath the thin silk bodice of the kaftan. She decided that she really did need to get into a less provocative outfit. In an abrupt move that took him by surprise, she slid off the bed. ‘I should get dressed now.’

Quick to surmise that she intended to cover as much of her wondrous hourglass shape as possible, away from his appreciative gaze, Giannis entrapped her hand in his larger one to prevent her from moving away. Instinct warned him that she was skittish, and it was not the moment to tell her that the dressing room would be packed tight with the generous array of designer apparel he had ordered for her enjoyment. ‘No. Don’t change. You look relaxed, and that’s one of the things I like about you. You don’t fuss about your hair, or your face, or your clothes. We’ll have dinner on the terrace.’