Greek's Pride: The Stephanos Marriage / A Passionate Surrender / The Greek Bridegroom

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Liquid fire coursed through her body, arousing each separate sensory nerve-end until she moaned an entreaty for him to desist. Except that nothing she said made any difference, and in a desperate attempt to put an end to the havoc he was creating she sank her fingers into his hair and tugged—hard.

It had not the slightest effect, and her limbs threshed in violent rejection until he caught hold of her hands and pinned them to her sides, effectively using his elbows to still the wild movements of her legs.

For what seemed an age she lay helpless beneath his deliberate invasion, hating him with a fervour that was totally unmatched, until, shifting his body weight, he effected a deep penetrating thrust that brought an involuntary gasp from her lips as delicate tissues stretched, then filled with stinging pain.

She was so caught up with it she didn’t register the brief explicit curse that husked from Aleksi’s throat, and she tossed her head from side to side to escape his mouth before it settled over hers, gentle, coaxing, and inflexibly possessive as she strove to free herself.

Without thought she balled her hands into fists and hit out at him, striking anywhere she could, then she became impossibly angry when it had no effect whatsoever.

The only weapons she had left were her teeth and her nails, and she used both, shamelessly biting his tongue, at the same time raking her nails down his ribcage, achieving some satisfaction from his harsh intake of breath.

‘Witch,’ he growled, lifting his mouth fractionally, and she cried out in agonised rejection.

‘Bastard! I hate you, hate you, do you understand?’

His hands caught hers in a punishing grip and held them immobile above her head, and she began to struggle in earnest, fear lending her unknown strength as she fought to be free of him.

‘Stop it, little fool,’ he chastised, holding her with ease. ‘You’re only making it worse for yourself.’

Angry dark blue eyes speared his as she vented furiously, ‘Get away from me, damn you!’

‘Not yet.’

‘Haven’t you done enough?’ It was a tortured accusation dredged up from the depths of her soul, and yet it failed to have the desired effect. ‘Aleksi!’ She would have begged if she had to, and it didn’t help that he knew.

‘Be still, little wildcat,’ he soothed, easily holding both her hands with one of his as he gently pushed stray tendrils of hair back behind her ear. Then his mouth brushed her temple, pressed each eyelid closed in turn, before trailing down to the edge of her lips. With a touch as light as a butterfly’s wing he teased their curved outline before slipping to the hollow at the base of her neck.

‘Please don’t.’

‘What a contrary plea!’ he murmured against her throat, and she could sense the smile in his voice. ‘Just relax, and trust me.’

‘Why should I?’ she cried in an impassioned entreaty, only wanting to be free of him.

‘The hurting is over, I promise.’

‘Then why won’t you leave me alone?’ Her eyes seared his, then became trapped beneath the latent sensuality, the sheer animal magnetism he exuded, and almost in primeval recognition an answering chord struck deep within, quivering into hesitant life.

‘This is why,’ husked Aleksi, covering her mouth gently with his own as he began to move, slowly at first, creating a throbbing ache that swelled until she became caught up in the deep rhythmic pattern of his possession.

Impossibly sensuous, he played her with the skilled mastery of a virtuoso, bringing forth without any difficulty at all the soft startled cries of her pleasure, and the hands that had raked his flesh now cajoled in silent supplication as she accepted everything he chose to give.

The climax, when it came, was unexpected and tumultuous, an entire gamut of emotions so exquisite it defied description in that first initial experience, and afterwards she was too spent to attempt an accurate analysis.

With a return to normality came a degree of self-loathing, and the re-emergence of hatred for the man who had instigated her emotional catalyst. She became aware of her own body, the soft bruising inside and out, and the increasing need to escape, albeit temporarily, from the large bed and the indomitable man who occupied it.

‘Where do you think you’re going?’

It was difficult to stand naked before his gaze, although innate dignity lifted her head to a proud angle as she turned at the sound of that quiet drawling voice.

‘To have a bath,’ she responded evenly, and saw his eyes narrow fractionally before she moved towards the en suite bathroom.

Once inside, she closed the door, then pressed the plug into position in the large spa-bath and released water from the taps.

Within minutes steam clouded the room, and she added plenty of bath-oil to the cascading water before stepping into its warm depth.

Aleksi walked into the room as Alyse was about to reach for a sponge, and she was so incensed at his intrusion she threw the sponge without thought, watching as it connected with his chest.

His soft husky laughter as he calmly stepped into the bath to sit facing her was the last straw, and she flew at him in a rage, flailing her fists against his shoulders, his arms, anywhere she could connect, until he caught hold of her wrists with a steel-like grip.

‘Enough, Alyse.’ His voice was hard and inflexible, and she looked at him with stormy eyes, ready to do further battle given the slightest opportunity.

‘Can’t you see I want to be alone?’ It was a cry from the heart, and to her horror she felt her lower lip tremble with damnable reaction. She was physically and emotionally spent, and there was the very real threat of tears as she determined not to let him see the extent of her fragility.

Eyes that were dark and impossibly slumbrous held her own captive in mesmerised fascination, and helpless frustration welled up inside her as her chin tilted at an angry angle. ‘Must you look at me like that?’

‘We just made love,’ he drawled with latent humour. ‘How would you have me look at you?’

‘I hated it!’ Alyse flung incautiously.

One eyebrow rose with sardonic cynicism. ‘You hated the fact that it was I who awakened you to the power of your own sensuality.’ His lips moved to form a twisted smile. ‘And you hate yourself for achieving sexual pleasure with someone you profess to dislike.’

The truth of his words was something she refused to concede. ‘You behaved like a barbaric—animal!’

‘Who took his own pleasure without any concern for yours?’ he demanded with undisguised mockery.

Colour stained her cheeks, and her lashes fluttered down to form a protective veil against his discerning scrutiny. ‘I’ll never forgive you,’ she declared with quiet vehemence. ‘Never.’

‘Spoken like an innocent,’ Aleksi declared with sardonic amusement, and her eyes flew open to reveal shards of brilliant sapphire.

‘Not any more, thanks to you!’

Lifting a hand, he brushed his fingers along the edge of her jaw. ‘I’m almost inclined to query why.’

Alyse reared back from that light teasing touch as if it was flame, wanting to scream and rage against his deliberate seduction, the sheer force of his sensual expertise. Except she was damned if she’d give him the satisfaction. Instead, she said bitterly, ‘I would have preferred a less brutal initiation.’

‘Yet after the pain came pleasure, did it not?’

Her eyes glittered in angry rejection. ‘Never having experienced anything to compare it with, I can’t comment.’

His soft husky laughter was almost her undoing, and she stood to her feet, reached for a towel, then stepped quickly out of the bath, uncaring that he followed her actions.

It was then she saw the long scratches scoring his ribcage, and she turned away, feeling sickened that she could have inflicted such physical injury.

In the bedroom she collected her nightgown and donned it, then turned hesitantly as Aleksi entered the room.

‘You’ll sleep here with me, Alyse. And don’t argue,’ he added with quiet emphasis as her lips parted to form a protest.

Before she had the opportunity to move more than a few steps towards the sitting-room he had reached her side, and her struggles were ineffectual as he calmly lifted her into his arms and carried her to the large bed.

‘I don’t want to sleep with you,’ she said fiercely, pushing against him as he slid in between the covers.

‘Maybe not,’ he drawled, settling her easily into the curve of his body. ‘But I insist you do.’

‘You damned dictatorial tyrant!’

‘My dear Alyse, I can think of a far more pleasurable way to deploy your energy than by merely wasting it in fighting me.’

She froze at his unmistakable implication. ‘I won’t be used and abused whenever you—’

‘Feel the urge?’ he completed sardonically. ‘I have a twelve-hour day ahead of me, and right now all I have in mind is a few hours’ sleep. Unless you have other ideas, which I’ll gladly oblige, I suggest you simply relax.’