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Incredibly Helen had still been a virgin. His wife a virgin and, along with an overwhelming need to possess her completely, he was aware of a shockingly basic feeling of primitive male posession. She was his and only his. Using all his considerable experience, he stroked and caressed her. His tongue searched the moist interior of her mouth with a sensuality that reflected what he ached to do with her body. Knowing he had to give her time to accept him.
‘No, don’t,’ she moaned.
‘Shh, Helen,’ he husked softly against her mouth, his hand stroking up her trembling body to cup one lush breast. ‘I promise seconds from now you will be begging me to continue.’ He ran the tip of his tongue slowly around the outline of her mouth before seeking again the hot sweet passion within, while his agile fingers teased the tip of her breast.
A moment later Helen realised Leon was right. Miraculously the pain subsided and a quiver of renewed pleasure lanced through her as he continued to kiss and caress her. With a subtle thrust of his hips he moved in her, slowly stretching and accustoming her to his thick fullness, arousing her with ever-lengthening strokes.
Helen was quickly oblivious to everything except the strength, the power of him filling her, driving her inexorably once more to that torturous brink of ecstasy she could only imagine. She clung to him as though he were her world. Then with one deep, powerful thrust he sent her over the edge, her body convulsing around him in a tidal wave of earth-shattering mindless delight. She cried out his name, her legs locking fiercely around his waist, never wanting to let him go, never wanting the cataclysmic feeling to stop. She felt him tauten and heard his answering cry as his great body shuddered violently with the powerful force of his own orgasm.
His weight pinned her to the bed, but it was a weight Helen relished as the tempestuous waves of their loving gradually subsided, bringing her quivering body down to a state of languorous fulfilment.
She gazed up at her lover—her husband—utterly awestruck. Nothing she had experienced, or imagined, in her life had come close to the intense, raw emotion he had aroused, the overwhelming power of his possession.
‘Leon, I never knew, never imagined,’ she murmured, ‘making love could be so intense, so mind-blowing—pure magic.’ She smiled a slow soft curl of her lips and reached out a finger to trace the outline of his mouth.
‘Leon,’ she husked softly. ‘Leon.’ From never calling him by name if she could help it, now she wanted to shout it from the rooftops.
His name on her lips was a sensual invitation but, mindful of her recently lost innocence, one Leon knew he should not accept. But amazingly his body was telling him otherwise, and abruptly he rolled off her.
‘Helen,’ he responded with humorous indulgence, and, leaning up on one elbow, he surveyed his beautiful wife’s slender body, her tousled mass of silken hair, and soft, swollen-mouthed, blissful smile.
God! She was good—better than good, amazing. How he could have thought she was not his type was unfathomable to him now. She was everything a woman should be and the urge to kiss her lush lips and start all over again was incredibly instant.
Accustomed to sophisticated women who knew the score and to whom having sex was not much more than a pleasurable workout, he found it a novel experience to see genuine wonder in her huge violet eyes, and Leon almost succumbed. In all his thirty-nine years he had never known a woman like her, an innocent and a sensualist rolled into one. Then cynically he reminded himself she might be innocent in the sexual stakes, but in every other way she was as cunning as the rest of her sex.
Still, it was a terrific ego trip to know he was her first, and with that in mind his conscience told him he needed to give her time to recover, though his body was telling him otherwise. His dark eyes narrowed speculatively on her lovely face. She was made for sex, as of today she was his, and there would be plenty of other times.
With that happy thought uppermost in his mind he told her, ‘You are now my wife.’ A smile of sheer masculine satisfaction glinted in his dark eyes. ‘You are also full of surprises. Who would have imagined a sexy little lady like you, still a virgin?’ He shook his head in amused amazement, and slid off the bed to stand looking down at her. ‘I’m flattered you enjoyed your first taste of sex, Helen, and I must confess I am delighted to discover you have a remarkable natural aptitude for the act.’ And, turning, he headed for the bathroom before he lost control and succumbed to the temptation she offered and joined her in bed again.
He disposed of the condom and washed his hands. Another bonus with Helen, he thought complacently, after years of protection, he need never use another condom as he introduced her to every aspect of sex. His big body tightened at the prospect. He glanced into the mirror above the basin and rubbed his hand against his cheek, her skin was as soft as silk, and he could do with another shave. A wry grin twisted his mobile mouth. Not tonight, though—a rough chin might help him control his basic urges in consideration of his very new wife. He had a lifetime to enjoy the pleasures of the flesh with Helen, and surprisingly the idea of being tied to one woman for years did not faze him at all.
Helen’s dreamy gaze followed his retreating form as he headed for the bathroom, all long, lithe, muscular male. Her eyes widened in disbelief as the scratches on his back and tight buttocks finally registered in her love-hazed mind. Had she done that? Oh, God, yes. What had possessed her?
Leon, her convenient husband.
His departing words replayed in her head, and she came down to earth with a thump.
He hadn’t sounded very flattered, and ‘enjoyed your first taste of sex’ was not how Helen would have described the act. The very word ‘act’ offended her sensibilities, and in that moment with sickening clarity she realised what an idiot she had been. The most emotional, momentous experience in her life had meant little to Leon. It had been just that, an act on his part. A way to ensure the absolute legality of their marriage, he had told her so.
For a while she had allowed herself to forget he was a hard, cynical banker, a man who controlled vast amounts of money, a man born to take account of every eventuality to control everything, Nicholas and herself included.
She cringed at her own naivety, at her own wholehearted surrender to the man. His reference to her natural ability filled her with shame and humiliation. How could she have responded to him so shockingly?
The answer was in every pore of her body, the swollen fullness of her lips and in the tender tips of her breasts, because she wanted Leon in the most primitive way possible, but had never recognised the fact.
Instinctively her awareness of him had scared her from the very first time she had set eyes on him. She had told herself when they had met again it was silly to be afraid of the man. First impressions were usually correct, she should have remembered that, and run as far and fast as she could when he’d reappeared in her life.
It was too late now, she had married the man, and for Nicholas’ sake she was going to have to live with him, but not here in his bed. She leapt off the bed, her frantic gaze flying around the room. She had to live with him, but she did not have to sleep with him. He had said they had to consummate the marriage. My God! He had certainly done that, but she wasn’t hanging around for a repeat performance.
Finally finding her nightshirt on the floor, she picked it up and pulled it over her trembling body. Nicholas’ room was free, she would spend the rest of the night there, and find a room of her own in the morning. Brushing her hair from her eyes, she turned towards the door.
With all the arrogant confidence of a very self-satisfied man, Leon wrapped a towel around his hips and sauntered back into the bedroom. Not only did he have Nicholas, a true Aristides, an heir to inherit his fortune, it was a pleasurable bonus to have the lovely Helen as his wife. He looked at the bed, the empty bed, and his pleasure turned to cold anger in an instant.
He glanced across the room. She was almost at the door, her glorious hair falling in a tumbled mass of waves halfway down her slender back. ‘Going somewhere?’ he demanded, striding towards her, and he saw her shoulders stiffen as she slowly turned to face him. Her violet eyes that had looked at him with such awe not long ago now sparkled with defiance.
‘Yes, I am going to find a room of my own.’
‘This is your room,’ he stated angrily, not appreciating her rebellion. She had to know her place was in his bed, and he reached for her shoulders, his eyes raking over her. The cotton shirt was shapeless and ended mid calf. But it was the pattern that really caught his attention and diffused his anger somewhat. For a man accustomed to his ladies dressed in the finest silks and satins it was a real shock.
‘What on earth are you wearing?’ he asked incredulously. Two ridiculous teddy bears danced across her chest.
Helen hoped it was the picture holding his attention and not her breasts, but much to her shame she could do nothing about the sudden swelling in those same breasts. Leon with a slip of a towel slung around his lean hips was a breathtaking sight to any female between the ages of eight and eighty, she thought, and much to her chagrin she was no exception.
‘It’s my doubly-cuddly nightshirt,’ she blurted. The air between them was fraught with tension and she dragged in a slightly unsteady breath before continuing. ‘Nicholas likes it, he named it, and anyway it has nothing to do with you what I wear.’
‘Maybe not, though your exquisite body deserves the finest silk and satin,’ he opined as his hands tightened on her shoulders and he drew her closer, his dark eyes gleaming with such blatant sexuality it made her heart leap in her breast. ‘But it has everything to do with me where you sleep, and that is in my bed.’
She lowered her lashes over her too-revealing eyes. She could barely look at him without blushing. ‘No, thank you,’ she said with all the cool she could muster. ‘I want my own room.’
An amused smile played around his firm mouth. ‘So polite, but that is not possible, Helen, and anyway all your clothes are here. Surely you would not want to upset Anna by demanding she move them from our suite after one night,’ he prompted mockingly.
She didn’t appreciate the mention of Anna or his amusement. She glanced at the rumpled bed. Obviously what had just happened there was one big laugh to him, whereas to her it was the scene of her downfall and totally humiliating.
‘There is no “our” suite,’ she snapped. He was so damned arrogant, nothing dented his massive male ego, and she continued defiantly, ‘I’ll apologise to Anna for the inconvenience tomorrow, but I am not staying here with you.’
‘You don’t have a choice.’ His mouth tightened, his great body tensed, and all trace of humour vanished. ‘You’re my wife and your place is in my bed.’ His eyes narrowed on her flushed, mutinous face. ‘Don’t try my patience. I have told you before, I don’t like women who play games.’
Her face grew hot with renewed humiliation and fury. ‘I am not playing a game,’ she lashed back. ‘You said we had to consummate the marriage—well, we have. And I have no desire to repeat the exercise.’
One eyebrow rose with derisive scorn. ‘Oh, but you do.’ And a hand left one shoulder to curve around her waist and draw her hard against him. ‘And if you were honest you would admit that it is that desire that has you running scared.’
The contact with his big muscular body sent the blood pounding through Helen’s veins. She looked up at his ruggedly attractive face. His dark eyes held a wealth of intimate, sensual knowledge that shamed and excited her, but also infuriated her beyond words.
‘No,’ she cried. ‘I hated it. I hate you,’ she flung angrily and twisted furiously against his steel-like grip, but to no avail.
His lips twisted in a humourless smile. ‘You don’t know me well enough to hate me. That may come later—one never knows with women,’ he said dryly, his hand snaking up her back, pressing her to him from chest to thigh. ‘But what you hate now is the fact that it was I who showed you what a rampant little sensualist you are, and you hate yourself for enjoying sex with someone you don’t know very well.’
Her eyes glittered with angry resentment. ‘That is not true; you deceived me—you behaved like an animal.’
‘A male animal you thoroughly enjoyed and I have the marks to prove it,’ he stated with undisguised satisfaction.
Helen blushed scarlet and lowered her lashes to disguise her vulnerability from his discerning gaze. But she could not refute it.
Lifting a hand, he cupped her chin. ‘Don’t let it bother you, Helen, I enjoyed receiving every one. I enjoyed you.’ His thumb brushed her jaw line and the fullness of her bottom lip. ‘Your problem is you enjoyed me but do not want to admit the fact.’
‘No.’ Her eyes glittered in angry rejection. ‘I was shocked—you caught me by surprise.’ And his husky chuckle did nothing for her overstretched nerves. The musky male scent of him tantalised her and the pressure of his hard body against her own overheated flesh made her tremble.
‘You certainly surprised me. I could never have imagined a beautiful woman of your age would still be a virgin. Which leads me to believe that rather naively you have been labouring under the popular female illusion that some day you would fall in love and live happily ever after? Tonight was your first time and, while your body wantonly delighted in the experience, your untried emotions received a shock perfectly natural under the circumstances. I’ll give you that.’ His hand burrowed through her hair and he tilted her head up to his. ‘You made the discovery that love, not that I believe it exists,’ he drawled with cynical humour, ‘is not a prerequisite for great sex, and your childish illusions are shattered.’
Her eyes blazed angrily. ‘At least I had some, but you are an unfeeling, insensitive oaf.’ That he was right about her did not make her feel any better, but the fact he didn’t believe in love did not surprise her at all.
‘Insensitive maybe, unfeeling never,’ he drawled. His hand stroked caressingly down her spine to press her into the hard strength of his thighs, so she could be in no doubt of exactly how he felt.
‘As for taking you by surprise—’ his smile was decidedly feral as he tilted her head back ‘—well, this time, my sweet wife, I am giving you fair warning. I am going to kiss you.’
Dark eyes merciless in their intent burned into hers. Helen wanted to look away, to break the spellbinding power of his sexuality. ‘No, please.’ But as his arm tightened around her all her traitorous body wanted was to surrender once again to the powerful virile strength of his.
She made a weak attempt to struggle free. But his dark head bent and his mouth covered hers, his tongue delving between her parted lips with a devastatingly skilful passion that plunged her straight back into the same state of sensual overload as before.
Her arms of their own volition wrapped around his neck. Her fingers sought the thickness of his hair, raking her fingers through its silken length with sensuous delight. She fell into his kiss like a starving woman, oblivious to everything except the man holding her, kissing her. Spinning in a whirlpool of pure pleasure over which she had no control.
‘Is that please yes?’ Leon husked against her mouth, sweeping her up in his arms.
Helen groaned her agreement. The first time she had felt fear, but not now. Now she was burning up with a hunger she knew only Leon could satisfy.
And when he laid her down on the bed her glittering eyes were bold as they roamed over his magnificent body. Bronzed and sleek-muscled, his skin gleamed satin in the soft light, and when she looked into his eyes the molten desire in the inky depths blinded her to everything in the world but him.
Leon stared down at her, fighting with his conscience, but her soft, pouting mouth, her wide, inviting eyes, and the firm outline of her rigid nipples against the cotton were too tempting to resist. In one deft move he removed her shirt and gathered her into his arms, his hands moving urgently over her silken flesh. He bent his head to kiss and lick each taut nipple before returning to take her mouth with his own.
Eventually taking everything.
CHAPTER SEVEN
HELEN LAY CURLED up in a ball in the big bed, as far away from her indomitable husband as she could get. The even sound of Leon’s breathing told her he was deeply asleep.
But sleep would not come for Helen; shame and humiliation burnt through her aching body at the thought of what she had allowed to happen.
How could she have been so weak willed? How could she have been so wanton? Kissing, touching, scratching.
How could her body have betrayed her so totally, not once, but twice?
Quite easily, she groaned the answer and buried her head in the pillow. She had been seduced by an expert.
The first time she had been swept away in a torrent of undreamed of pleasure as he had kissed and tasted every inch of her. Sweeping away all her virginal fears with a skill and mastery that had overwhelmed her. And when he had finally surged inside her the fierce pain had been obliterated in moments by stroke after stroke of ever-growing torturous pleasure. She had clung to him greedily, her legs locked around his waist as with all his power he had possessed her utterly, the hard strength of him filling and pulsing inside her. until mindlessly she had cried out as her body convulsed around him in an explosion of emotion so extreme the boundaries of her self were absorbed by his.
Squirming, Helen tried to blank the memory of her second spectacular downfall from her mind. If anything her behaviour had been even worse. Boldly she had caressed and touched him, exploring him with the same intimate detail he had devoted to her. Until finally all that mattered had been the two throbbing, sweat-slicked bodies, touching, tasting, in an orgy of ever-increasing wild abandon that had culminated in a mutually explosive climax.
She heard Leon groan, and tensed, her fingers digging into the edge of the mattress. She didn’t want him to wake up.
Because, painful as it was for her to admit it, for some inexplicable reason she was fast becoming incapable of resisting the man, and it could not go on. She was wise enough to know that way lay only heartache. Leon Aristides was the most autocratic, cynical man she had ever met, verging on misogynistic if his comments on the female sex were to be believed, and certainly not the sort of man to fall in love with.
Closing her eyes tight, she silently vowed to herself she would never let her arrogant husband touch her again. Tomorrow she was going to speak to Anna, and have her own room whatever Leon said, and on that thought she fell into an exhausted sleep.
Helen blinked and yawned widely, the distant sound of a door closing echoing in her head. She rolled over onto her back, and stretched, her body aching in unfamiliar places. Then she remembered, her eyes flew wide open and for a moment the sunlight streaming into the room dazzled her.
‘Good morning, madam.’
Blinking again, her eyes focused on Anna standing by the bed, a laden breakfast tray in her hands, ‘The master said to let you rest, but it is almost twelve and I thought you might like coffee and a little snack.’
‘Twelve?’ Helen squeaked and sat up in bed, her eyes straying to the indentation on the pillows next to hers. He had gone, thank heaven. Then suddenly realising she was naked, she grasped the coverlet and pulled it up under her arms, before turning a scarlet face to Anna again. ‘I am sorry for oversleeping and thank you, Anna.’ She took the tray from her outstretched arms. ‘I certainly need something,’ she muttered under her breath. ‘Like a brain transplant.’
‘Now, madam, no need to hurry, the master has gone to collect Nicholas and they won’t be back for a while. You take your time, pamper yourself.’ Anna surprised Helen by smiling broadly at her.
‘And may I say, madam, I have known Master Leon since he was an eight year old, and I was first employed as his nanny. I have watched him grow into the man he is today, and I can honestly say I have never seen him look happier than he was this morning. For that I thank you. The man deserves a little happiness in his life. His mother was a difficult woman and rarely cared for him and as for his first wife…’ Anna frowned. ‘Still, I suppose you already know all about her and I should not waste your time gossiping. But anything you want you only have to ask.’ And with another smile she left.
I wonder if that includes a separate bedroom, Helen mused darkly as she drank the coffee and ate the dainty little pastries provided. Somehow she thought not.
Her worried gaze strayed to the other side of the rumpled bed, and she was vividly reminded of last night, reminded of Leon’s great golden body over her, in her, taking her yet again as the light of dawn filled the room. And placing the tray on the bedside table, she jumped out of bed and headed for the bathroom.
She turned on the shower and stood beneath the soothing spray, trying to wash the haunting memories of last night from her mind, and determined to avoid any repeat.
Thirty minutes later with her hair dried she studied her own reflection in the mirrored wall. She looked different; her lips were still slightly swollen from Leon’s kisses. Red blotches marred the pale skin of her breasts and lower over her stomach, testimony to her husband’s passion.
She spun away from the mirror and quickly dressed. She didn’t want to think about his passion; she didn’t want to think about him, full stop. Donning a pair of blue jeans and a crisp lemon shirt, she brushed her hair back. She slipped her feet into soft flats, and ventured out of the bedroom.
Rather gingerly Helen walked down the marble staircase. She was sore in a way and in places she had never been before and it was all Leon’s fault.
And there he was standing at the bottom of the stairs like a replay of yesterday, only this time he was casually dressed in a cream wool sweater and dark trousers and Nicholas was at his side rather than hers.
‘Uncle Leon said we had to let you rest,’ Nicholas chirped up, and Helen turned scarlet and her new husband smiled, and today the smile did reach his knowing eyes, and made her blush even more.
‘Yes, well,’ Helen murmured, reaching the bottom of the stairs and giving Nicholas a big hug. ‘Now tell me all about your night away.’
Nicholas duly obliged while Anna served lunch and Helen’s tension eased somewhat. Afterwards Leon, much to her surprise, insisted on taking Nicholas upstairs for his nap and promised to play football with the boy later, while Anna gave Helen a guided tour of the house.
The eight bedrooms and five reception rooms impressed Helen but she could not help thinking it was a bit soulless.
Immaculate with high ornate ceilings, brilliant frescos and marble floors, and the furniture to match it was perfect. A little too perfect, a typical stiff-necked banker’s abode.
But she did take the opportunity to confide in Anna that she was an illustrator and ask her if she could have a room for a study, preferably not too far from Nicholas’ room, because she usually worked when he was asleep. Anna quite happily obliged and showed her to a bedroom, along the corridor from Nicholas’. When Anna went downstairs Helen swiftly unpacked her portable easel and sketch books and removed some essential items of clothing from the master suite. She didn’t care what Leon thought. She was having her own room.
Surprisingly the rest of the day was quite fun. She joined Nicholas and Leon in the garden; after yesterday’s rain it was pleasant to be outdoors in the sunshine. She was cajoled into playing a game of football, and burst out laughing when her usually imposing husband fell over the ball in his haste to take it off her and sprawled at her feet. Nicholas immediately jumped on his back and demanded he pretend to be a horse and give him a ride.
There was something very satisfying in seeing Leon on his knees. ‘Ride him, cowboy,’ Helen shouted encouragement.
But when Nicholas tired of the game, Leon slanted a wicked look up at her.
‘Your turn, Helen,’ and glancing at Nicholas he added, ‘What do you think—should I give Helen a ride?’
‘Yes. Yes,’ Nicholas shouted, his little face wreathed in smiles.
‘No, you should not,’ Helen declared, blushing scarlet at the sexual connotation that flew right over the child’s head. But she was secretly pleased at how well they all got along. Leon looked almost boyish and more relaxed than she had ever seen him when Nicholas was around, which was a good sign for the family she hoped they could eventually become.
Turning her back on the laughing duo, she flung over her shoulder, ‘And now I think it is time for tea.’
‘Sorry, Nicholas, Helen thinks she is too old to play.’
She heard his mocking comment and spun back round to find him grinning down at her.
