The Helen Bianchin Collection. Helen Bianchin

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She picked up the receiver, but she didn’t even manage to punch one digit before Nicos cut the connection.

      ‘Don’t even think about it.’

      She rounded on him in fury. ‘How dare you?’

      ‘Easily.’

      Without thought she snatched up a pillow and threw it at him, only to watch as he deflected it onto the bed.

      His anger was a palpable entity. The bedside lamp cast shadows in the room, and his frame seemed to loom large, his features all angles and planes.

      ‘Three nights ago we shared a bed half this size.’

      ‘That was different.’

      He moved with the grace of a cat, his speed indolently deceptive as he skirted the bed.

      Katrina took one look and scrambled across the mattress to the other side. She couldn’t win, there was nowhere to go, and she fought like a wild thing as he caught hold of her, stilling her flailing arms with galling ease.

      In a moment of madness she bit him, hard, connecting just above one male nipple, and registered his intake of breath an instant before she was pushed down onto the mattress.

      She bucked, trying vainly to free herself, and gave a startled cry as he straddled her hips and pinned her wrists above her head.

      ‘Get off me!’

      He held her securely, his knees trapping her thighs, yet still she arched against him, twisting her body as she attempted to wrench her arms free.

      ‘Stop it. You’ll hurt yourself.’

      ‘Dammit, let me go!’

      Her eyes were a brilliant green, dilated with a mixture of outrage and anger, her hair a mass of tumbled curls.

      She made one desperate last-ditch effort, only to concede defeat. Her chest heaved, and her breath escaped in short, furious gasps. If looks could kill, he’d be dead.

      He waited, watching as her breathing steadied, and his eyes were impossibly dark. There was a stillness apparent in those strong, masculine features, a leashed savagery that caused the breath to hitch in her throat.

      No. It was a silent scream that didn’t find voice.

      The room faded from the periphery of her vision. There was only the man, the latent, magnetic intensity evident.

      Primitive awareness eased the sudden knot in her stomach, and she battled the slow heat warming the blood in her veins.

      A faint whimper escaped her lips, part groan, part despair. What was happening to her? It seemed as if everything had coalesced and Nicos had become her total focus.

      Her body had a memory of its own, and she was powerless to stop the treacherous awakening as passion flared.

      Damn you, Nicos. The silent curse didn’t find voice. Don’t.

      Except it was way too late.

      Slowly he lowered his head, and his mouth brushed hers, the touch feather-light in an evocative, teasing gesture that wasn’t nearly enough.

      He felt the faint quiver of her body, sensed the heat, and he nibbled on her lower lip, then nipped the full centre, soothing it with the tip of his tongue before tracing the soft contours.

      The strength of his arousal was a potent force nestled against the most vulnerable part of her anatomy, and sensation throbbed, primitive, urgent, libidinous.

      She parted her mouth, wanting more, much more than this gentle seduction, and she moaned an entreaty as his lips savoured the line of her throat, then nuzzled the sensitive hollow at the edge of her neck.

      I should stop this, now, before it’s too late, she groaned silently.

      Except she was powerless to still the deep need, the mesmeric, erotic witchery of his seduction.

      When his mouth found hers again, she kissed him with possessive hunger, angling her head for closer purchase.

      Her whole body was on fire, and the breath hissed between her teeth as he freed her wrists and dispensed with her long cotton tee shirt.

      A swift tugging movement divested his briefs, and she cried out as he sought her breast, teasing a tender peak before suckling shamelessly.

      Her hands slid over his shoulders, caressed his spine, then she dug her fingers into his buttocks.

      Now. Her breath came in ragged gasps as he sought the moistness, his touch finding the acutely sensitised nub with unerring accuracy.

      She went up in flames, then cried out as he sent her higher, and she wasn’t conscious of pleading with him, or begging his possession.

      Nicos took her with one deep thrust, and heard her faint intake of breath as silken muscles stretched to accommodate him. He stilled, enjoying the enclosure, the tightness as she gripped and held him, then he began to move, slowly, almost withdrawing completely before surging in to the hilt.

      Again and again he repeated the action, increasing the movement until she met and matched his rhythm in a tumultuous ride that left them both slick with sensual sweat.

      Katrina waited for her breathing to steady, convinced she was unable to move so much as a muscle. Dear heaven. She closed her eyes, too enervated to do anything, and she groaned out loud as he gathered her close and rolled onto his back.

      His hands brushed over her skin in a soothing gesture, and she felt his lips at her temple, the soft hollow beneath her ear.

      It felt so good, like coming home after conquering the stormy sea.

      Slowly she lifted her body, arching it gracefully as she rose above him. She lifted a hand and tucked her hair behind one ear, then the other, then she touched the tip of her finger to his chest and traced a teasing pattern through the dark hair, pausing to tug a little before following the line arrowing down to his waist.

      She felt him harden, his length expanding as she brushed a teasing path back and forth at the juncture of their connection, only to have him replace her fingers with his own.

      Her pleasure was immediate, the wild surge of exquisite sensation almost more than she could bear, and this time it was she who rode him on the path to mutual ecstasy.

      Yet it was Nicos who held her at the brink, then tipped her over in a mutual, spellbinding free fall.

      Katrina fell asleep curled close in Nicos’s arms, her head pillowed against his chest.

      Throughout the night they reached for each other, satisfying needs that were alternately urgent, then slow and magically sweet.

      There was a part of her that never wanted the sensual dreams of the night to end. How many times had she imagined such a night, relived it again and again, only to wake alone with an emptiness that was all too real?

      But as the first light of dawn crept over the horizon she responded to the trail of fingers caressing the curve of her waist, exulted

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