CATHERINE GEORGE - Eligible Greeks - Tycoon's Revenge - Proud Greek, Ruthless Revenge / The Power of the Legendary Greek / The Greek Millionaire's Mistress

‘Yet you still visit her regularly?’ Thanos murmured.

‘Of course.’Tahlia shrugged. ‘Dementia is a cruel illness, but it doesn’t define Aunt George. She’s still a wonderful person.’

Far from being heartless, as he had once believed, Tahlia clearly possessed a depth of compassion and kindness that he had never found in any other woman, Thanos acknowledged. He did not want to dwell on how he had misjudged her and he strolled towards her, glancing curiously at her shopping bags.

‘So, what did you buy?’

‘Clothes—as ordered,’ she replied brightly. ‘Two evening dresses, to be precise.’ She pulled a garish pink gown from one of the bags and held it up for his inspection. ‘What do you think?’

‘I think you had better show me the other one,’he said flatly.

‘If you don’t like the pink, I thought I couldn’t go wrong with classic black.’ Tahlia held the plain black dress against her and gave an impatient sigh when he shook his head. ‘What’s wrong with it?’

‘It’s cheap, badly made, and it drains the colour from your face,’ Thanos told her bluntly. He lifted his hand and ran his finger lightly down her cheek, watching the soft flush of rose-pink stain her skin. ‘If they are the only two choices, then I have to say that I definitely prefer you wearing no clothes at all, agape.’

The sultry gleam in his eyes caused a delicious little shiver to run through Tahlia, and her breath snagged in her throat when he slid the strap of her cotton top over her shoulder. It would be so easy to close the few inches between them and tilt her head in readiness for his kiss, but she was suddenly gripped with shyness. She was here with him to fulfil her side of a business arrangement, she reminded herself fiercely. She had not expected to be so utterly captivated by him—or to feel this lingering regret that their relationship would never be more than sex.

‘I think I’ll hit the shower,’ she mumbled. ‘It was hot and dusty in town.’

She quickly made her escape, crossing the lounge to the bedroom and carrying on into the en suite bathroom. A long, tepid shower cooled her heated skin and went some way to restoring her equilibrium. When she’d finished she wound a towel sarong-like around her body and blasted her hair with the hairdrier, wondering if Thanos had returned to work.

The sight of him propped up in bed halted her in her tracks, and her heart missed a beat as her eyes travelled down from his bare muscular chest, covered with whorls of dark hair, to the sheet draped low over his hips. The word handsome did not do justice to his stunning looks and simmering virility. One look at him was all it took for her to melt, she thought despairingly, unable to tear her eyes from the sensual promise of his mouth. The feral heat in his gaze was both an invitation and a demand, and when he wordlessly flicked back the sheet to reveal the awesome strength of his arousal, she swallowed, her eyes locked with his as she walked slowly towards the bed.

Heart pounding so hard she was sure he must hear it, she stretched out beside him, her faint sigh muffled as he lowered his head and claimed her mouth in a slow, drugging kiss that sparked a flame inside her. His tongue probed between her lips, demanding access as he deepened the kiss, and she responded mindlessly, her body quivering with delight. He unwrapped her towel and stroked his hand over her breasts, teasing her nipples into hard peaks before he replaced his fingers with his mouth and laved each dusky tip until she gasped with pleasure.

Passion built swiftly, and when he slipped his hand between her thighs she spread her legs wider, heard his low groan of approval as he parted her and discovered the slick wetness of her arousal.

‘You can touch me too,’ Thanos murmured, smiling when colour stained her cheeks.

After a moment’s hesitation she complied, and tested his restraint to its limit when she stroked her fingers lightly along his swollen length and then grew bolder and encircled him. Her innocence was indisputable, but she was an apt pupil, he acknowledged, his heart racing as he reached for a protective sheath and then positioned himself over her. He entered her with slow deliberation, watching her eyes widen as she felt him slide deeper, filling her to the hilt before he withdrew almost fully and thrust again, establishing a rhythm that drove them both to the edge and over, as their passion exploded in the glory of mutual climax.

It was just good sex, he reminded himself when he finally withdrew and rolled onto his back, taking her with him and tangling his hand in her hair. He guided her mouth down on his and kissed her with lazy appreciation. Physical compatibility at its best—which left him with a feeling of contentment that he had never experienced with any other woman.

‘I need to work for another couple of hours,’ he told her as he pulled on his trousers. ‘This evening we’re attending a reception. The shipping magnate Christos Petrelis is hosting a party on his private island.’

‘Which dress shall I wear?’ Tahlia mused. ‘The black or the pink?’

He gave her a level look. ‘Neither.’

‘You think I should go nude?’ she teased him, her impish smile tugging faintly on his heart.

‘It would certainly be an attention-stealer, but I admit I like the fact that I am the only man who has ever seen your naked body,’ he told her, frowning slightly as he acknowledged a degree of possessiveness that was unexpected. He reached for his phone and spoke rapidly in Greek before cutting the call. ‘Fortunately, I am a much better shopper than you. Come and see.’

Puzzled, Tahlia pulled on her robe and followed him into the lounge. He strode over to the door and opened it, to admit three porters laded with bags and boxes emblazoned with the names of famous design houses.

‘What…?’ She lifted her eyes to his face and waited for his explanation.

‘You need new clothes,’ Thanos murmured coolly. ‘So I phoned a friend in Paris who is a personal stylist, gave her your measurements and a description of your colouring, and asked her to send over a selection of suitable outfits.’

‘Well, you can just send them straight back.’ Tahlia stared around at the dozens of boxes and bags, from Chanel, Gucci, Prada, and felt sick with misery. The laughter she had shared with Thanos a few moments earlier had been replaced with a tangible tension. ‘I won’t wear clothes paid for by you. I told you—I pay my own way and I won’t accept hand-outs. Even though they are haute couture,’ she added grimly.

Thanos’s smile had faded and his expression was unreadable, although Tahlia sensed that she had angered him. ‘You will wear them,’ he told her, with a note of implacability in his voice that warned her she would have a fight on her hands if she refused. ‘As we discussed before, your sole purpose for the next month is to please me, and I expect you to dress appropriately.’

‘I don’t need reminding that you are paying for me to act the role of your mistress,’ she said stiffly, hurt pride churning in her stomach. In a battle of wills he would be a clear winner, and a dignified retreat was her only option. ‘Very well, I’ll wear the clothes while I am here on Mykonos. But I shall regard them as a uniform, and I will leave them behind when our contract is over.’

Thanos restrained himself from pulling her into his arms and shaking some sense into her, and ignored the stronger urge to kiss her into submission. ‘Suit yourself,’ he said laconically, snatching up his jacket from the back of the chair and heading for the door. ‘I believe Monique included a Valentino evening gown in the collection. Wear that tonight,’ he ordered, and he stepped into the corridor and slammed the door behind him without giving her the chance to argue further.