Robyn Donald - Eligible Greeks - Sizzling Affairs - The Good Greek Wife? / Powerful Greek, Housekeeper Wife / Greek Tycoon, Wayward Wife

‘Careful.’

Zarek put a hand out to support her, taking hold of her elbow and helping her to straighten up.

‘Thank you.’

It was stiff and tight, the muscles in her throat clenching in response to the feel of the heat of his palm against her skin, the burn of his touch along every nerve. In flashes of memory the scene in the bedroom earlier that night came back to haunt her, overlaid by older but no less vivid memories of the nights that Zarek had taken her to bed in the past. During their marriage. Starting with the heated passion of their wedding night that had left her weeping with joy and disbelief that such stunning passion could ever exist.

And now Zarek clearly expected that he would share her bed again. That they would sleep together in the wide soft marriage bed with its huge, ornately carved wooden headboard. And after his casual, ‘Yes, there was that,’ that was more than she could bear.

Coming to a halt before she actually reached the master suite door, she half turned towards Zarek and tried for what she hoped was an appeasing smile.

‘I’ll get you some clean towels and bring them to your bedroom. The blue suite is made up and ready.’

‘The blue suite?’

Appeased was the last thing Zarek looked. His black brows drew together in an angry frown and the flash of something dangerous in the depths of his eyes made her legs tremble beneath her.

‘I think not.’

‘Oh, but…’

Protesting was a mistake. As was thinking that he was ever going to be persuaded on this one. Ruthless rejection of what she had planned was stamped in hard, cruel lines on his face, burning in that cold-eyed glare that he turned on her.

‘Oh, but nothing. Not if you are trying to say that you think I should sleep elsewhere.’

His hand was already on the door, twisting the handle with a force that spoke of the anger he was working to hold in check. But what made Penny’s stomach tense and twist itself into tight, painful knots was not the thought of the dark fury he might feel but the demonstration of the ruthless power he was determined to exert to control it. The force of will it spoke of made her quail at the thought of it being used against her.

And which way would it be used? Earlier today he had wanted to take her to bed and she had been unable to resist. Only at the last minute had common sense reasserted itself, the much-needed sense of self-preservation kicking in to make her react in the rational way at last. If Zarek turned the sheer power of his seductive persuasion on her once more she might not be able to hold out this time.

Just the memory of the feeling of drowning in his kisses, in his touch, gave her the sense of going down for the third time. She could feel the dark heated waters of sensuality swirling about her dangerously once again.

‘Where else would I sleep, glikia mou ?’

The bite on the last two words took them to a point light years away from any real term of affection.

‘This is my home, this is my bedroom. My bed. The bed I have dreamed of sleeping in again ever since I realised just who I was. There is nowhere else I intend to sleep tonight—or any other night.’

And there was no way at all she could refute that argument even if she dared to try.

‘So—what about me?’

‘What about you?’

The coolly assessing stare he turned on her moved from the top of her head, down to her toes where they curled nervously on the polished wooden floor, then swept back up again to linger on her uneasy face, looking straight into her frowning eyes.

‘Where—where am I expected to sleep?’

‘Expected?’

There was a dark note of mockery in that single drawled word, one that scraped over her nerves like the sound of fingernails on a blackboard, making her wince inwardly.

‘I expect nothing from you, agapiti mou

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