stocking tops. Ava could not move, could hardly breathe as his gaze lingered on her black silk thong before he finally raised his eyes to her breasts with their pointed nipples jutting provocatively beneath the semi-transparent bra cups.
‘Eísai ómorfi,’ he said hoarsely.
Even if she hadn’t understood the Greek words—which translated to English meant you are beautiful—there was no mistaking the heat in his gaze, the hunger that made his eyes glitter like polished jet. Ava knew she wasn’t really beautiful. Passably attractive was a more realistic description. But Giannis had sounded as if he genuinely thought she was beautiful. The desire blazing in his eyes restored some of her pride that had been decimated by Craig’s rejection.
Soon she would end this madness, she assured herself again. But for a few moments she wanted to relish the sense of feminine power that swept through her when Giannis reached for her and she saw that his hand was shaking. Europe’s most sought-after playboy was shaking with desire for her. It was a heady feeling. A wildness came over her, a longing to just once throw off the restraints she had imposed on herself since she was seventeen and had discovered the truth about Terry McKay.
When she was younger she had never told anyone that her father was a criminal, but the strain of keeping her shameful secret had meant that she was always on her guard. Even with Craig, she had never been able to completely relax and enjoy sex. She’d assumed she had a low sex drive, but now the fire in her blood and the thunderous drumbeat of desire in her veins revealed a passionate, sensual woman who ached for fulfilment.
Giannis pulled her into his arms and crushed her against his broad chest, making her aware of how strong he was, how muscular and male compared to her soft female body. But she was strong too, she realised, feeling him shudder when she arched into him so that the hard points of her nipples pressed against his chest. He claimed her mouth, his lips urgent, demanding her response, and with a low moan she melted into his heat and fire. She kissed him back with a fervency that drew a harsh groan from his throat when at last he lifted his head and stared into her eyes.
‘I want you,’ he said in a rough voice that made her tremble deep inside. ‘You drive me insane, lovely Ava. I want to see you naked in my bed. I want to touch your body and discover all your secrets, and then I want to...’ He lowered his head and whispered in her ear in explicit detail all that he wanted to do to her.
Ava’s stomach dipped. Somewhere back in the real world the voice of her common sense urged her to stop, now, before she did something she might regret later. But another voice insisted that if she let this moment, this man slip away she would regret it for ever. She did not understand what had happened to sensible Ava Sheridan, but shockingly she did not care. Only one thing was in her mind, in her blood. Desire, desire—it pulsed through her veins and made her forget everything but the exquisite sensations Giannis was creating when he cupped one of her breasts in his hand and stroked her nipple through the gossamer-fine bra cup.
She gave a low moan as he slipped his hand inside her bra and played with her nipple, rolling the hard peak between his fingers, causing exquisite sensation to shoot down to that other pleasure point between her legs. ‘Oh.’ She would die if he did not touch her there where she ached to feel his hands.
His soft laughter made her blush scarlet when she realised that she had spoken the words out loud. ‘Come with me.’ Giannis caught hold of her hand and something—disappointment? Frustration?—tautened his features when she hesitated. ‘What is it?’
She wanted to tell him that she did not have one-night stands and she had never, ever had sex with a stranger. She wasn’t impetuous or daring. She was old before her time, Ava thought bleakly. Just for once she wanted to be the sexually confident woman that Giannis clearly believed she was.
He smiled, his eyes lit with a sensual warmth that made her insides melt. ‘What’s wrong?’ he said softly, lifting his hand to brush her hair back from her face. The oddly tender gesture dispelled her doubts and the hunger in his gaze caused a sensuous heat to pool between her thighs.
‘Nothing is wrong,’ she assured him in a breathy voice she did not recognise as her own. She slid her hands over his shirt and undid the rest of the buttons before she pushed the material aside and skimmed her palms over his bare chest. His skin felt like silk overlaid with wiry black hairs that arrowed down to the waistband of his trousers. She heard him draw a quick breath when she stroked her fingertips along his zip.
‘You’re sure?’
She didn’t want to step out of the fantasy and question what she was doing. The new, bold Ava tilted her head to one side and sent him a lingering look from beneath the sweep of her lashes. ‘What are you waiting for?’ she murmured.
He laughed—a low, husky sound that caused the tiny hairs on her skin to stand on end. Every cell of her body was acutely aware of him and the promise in his glittering dark eyes sent a shiver of excitement through her.
Without saying another word, he led her by the hand into the bedroom. Ava was vaguely aware of the sophisticated décor and the lamps dimmed so that they emitted a soft golden glow. In the centre of the room was an enormous bed. Someone—presumably the chambermaid—had earlier turned back the bedspread and Ava’s heart skipped a beat when she saw black silk sheets.
The four-poster bed had been designed for seduction, for passion, and it occurred to her that Giannis would surely not have intended to spend the night alone. Perhaps he regularly picked up women for sex. The slightly unsettling thought quickly faded from her mind and anticipation prickled across her skin when he shrugged off his shirt and deftly removed his shoes and socks before he unzipped his trousers and stepped out of them.
He was magnificent—lean-hipped and with a powerfully muscular chest and impressive six-pack. In the lamplight his skin gleamed like polished bronze, his chest and thighs overlaid with black hairs. Her gaze dropped lower to his tight black boxer shorts which could not conceal his arousal, and the growl he gave as she stared at him evoked a primitive need to feel him inside her.
‘Take off your bra,’ he ordered.
Her stomach flipped. She would have preferred him to undress her, and on some level her brain recognised that he was giving her the opportunity to change her mind. He wasn’t going to force her to do anything she did not want to do. She roamed her eyes over his gorgeous body and desire rolled through her. Slowly she reached behind her back and unclipped her bra, letting the cups fall away from her breasts.
Giannis swallowed audibly. ‘Beautiful.’ His voice was oddly harsh, as if he was struggling to keep himself under control. He shook his head when she put her hands on the lacy tops of her hold-up stockings and prepared to roll them down her legs. ‘Leave them on,’ he growled. ‘And your shoes.’ He closed the gap between them in one stride and pulled her into his arms so that her bare breasts pressed against his naked chest. Ava felt a shudder run through him. ‘Se thélo,’ he muttered.
She knew the Greek words meant I want you and she was left in no doubt when he circled his hips against hers and she felt the solid ridge of his arousal straining beneath his boxers. Driven beyond reason by a hunger she had never felt before, had never believed she was capable of feeling, she slipped her hand into the waistband of his boxers and curled her hand around him.
‘Witch.’ He pulled off his boxer shorts and kicked them away. Ava felt a momentary doubt when she saw how hugely aroused he was. But then he scooped her up and laid her down on the bed, and the feel of his hard, male, totally naked body pressing down on her blew away the last of her inhibitions. She trapped his face between her hands and tugged his mouth down to hers, arching against
