At the Tycoon's Service: The Tycoon's Pregnant Mistress / The Tycoon's Rebel Bride / The Tycoon’s Secret Affair. Maya Banks

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At the Tycoon's Service: The Tycoon's Pregnant Mistress / The Tycoon's Rebel Bride / The Tycoon’s Secret Affair - Maya  Banks

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glower reminded her of what had transpired right before she’d fainted. She sobered and looked pensively at him.

      “What is the matter?” Chrysander asked.

      She fiddled with her spoon then set it down. “Before, when we were at the ruins. Why did you become so angry?”

      His expression remained neutral, but she could tell he had no liking for the question. “It was nothing. I was just thinking about work,” he said dismissively.

      She stared doubtfully at him but didn’t pursue the matter. When she had finished eating, Chrysander once again swept her into his arms and carried her up the stairs to the bedroom.

      He settled her onto the mattress and methodically removed her clothing. By the time he’d pulled away her pants, she lay in only her bra and filmy panties. She heard the catch in his breath just as he turned away.

      “Chrysander,” she whispered.

      He turned back, the muscles rippling through his body as if he were under a great strain.

      “Stay with me. Could we take a nap together? I find I’m very tired after all.”

      If he didn’t look so tortured, she’d laugh. She worked to keep her expression neutral as he grappled with her request. Finally he began working the buttons to his shirt. In silence he undressed to his boxers then crawled onto the bed with her.

      Then he cursed. She looked inquiringly at him as he stared down at her.

      “Would you like something to sleep in? You cannot stay in your bra. It doesn’t look comfortable.”

      She blushed but nodded. “A nightshirt will do.”

      He got up and returned with one of his shirts. He helped her sit up and unclasped her bra. His hands shook slightly as he pulled the shirt over her head and let it fall to her swollen belly.

      With gentle hands, he urged her back down and knelt above her. “Better?”

      “Much,” she said huskily.

      He settled down beside her and tucked her into his arms. She twisted about, trying to find just the right spot. When she scooted her behind into his groin, she froze, feeling his arousal there against her skin. She started to move away, when Chrysander growled in her ear.

      “Be still.”

      He clamped his arms around her, rendering her immobile. Her cheeks flaming, she tried to relax. The moment he’d touched her, her fatigue had fled. Now she faced trying to sleep with him wrapped around every inch of her body.

      His warmth bled into her. He stroked her hair and murmured in her ear. Greek words she couldn’t understand, though the comfort they intended was well recognized. She sighed in contentment as his hand glided down her arm, to her hip, coming to rest on her thigh.

      She felt a wave of such utter rightness, and she was stunned to realize the nameless emotion she’d been grappling with was love. Her eyes fluttered open even as she heard Chrysander’s even breathing signal his slumber.

      She loved him. It shouldn’t surprise her, but now that she’d acknowledged it, she realized that she hadn’t immediately recognized it after her memory loss. Shouldn’t she have known on some level that she loved this man?

      He was complicated, there was no disputing that. Complex, hard and reserved. Well, if she’d broken down his barriers once, then surely she could do so again.

      She settled down to sleep, purpose beating a steady rhythm in her mind.

       Chapter Eight

      Warm lips kissed a line from her shoulder down her arm. Marley stirred and opened her eyes to see Chrysander’s dark head move sensuously down her body.

      “That’s a very nice way to wake up,” she murmured.

      His head came up, and she met the liquid gold of his eyes. “How are you feeling, pedhaki mou?

      She rolled onto her back and lifted her hand to thread it through his short hair. “Much better. I’m full and had a nap. What more could a pregnant woman want?”

      “Our child did not sleep much,” Chrysander said as he slid his hand over her rippling abdomen.

      She smiled. “No, he’s been very active lately. The obstetrician said they do the most moving in the second trimester.”

      He stared intently at her rounded belly, fascination lighting his eyes. “They don’t move in the last trimester?”

      “Yes, just not as much. There isn’t as much room. In the last month, they do very little as their environment gets even more cramped.”

      “I would think it would be easier for you to rest then.”

      She yawned then covered her mouth with her hand as her jaw nearly cracked with the effort.

      “You’re still tired,” he said reproachfully.

      “I’m pregnant. I expect I’ll be tired for the next eighteen years. I feel much better though. Truly, Chrysander. Let’s get up.”

      He straddled her body, putting one knee on either side of her hips. He looked down at her, his eyes gleaming with a predatory light. “You’re so eager to rise. Why is this?”

      She blushed and smacked his chest with her fist. He leaned down and tugged her lips into a kiss. He nipped at the fullness of her bottom lip until it was swollen and aching.

      “I have half a mind to keep you in bed until tomorrow morning,” he murmured.

      Putty. She was complete putty in his hands. If he so much as breathed on her, she went to mush. She twined her arms around his neck and returned his kiss hungrily. She could feel his erection straining against her, knew he wanted her as badly as she wanted him.

      With obvious reluctance he pulled away and climbed off the bed. She looked at him in confusion. Why was he withdrawing?

      He reached down and touched her hair, smoothing the tendrils away from her cheek. “You’ve been through an ordeal today, agape mou. I don’t want to tire you any more.”

      He seemed as surprised as she was when the endearment slipped out of his mouth. Her eyes widened, and he tensed. Then he turned around and strode to the closet.

      She watched him dress and then disappear from the bedroom. He’d called her my love, and while it had given her an indescribable thrill, it was obvious that it wasn’t something he meant to say.

      But he had said it. She held tight to that truth as she got out of bed to dress. Not knowing how he felt about her and why he took such pains to hold himself distant had puzzled her from the beginning. Was it because of her memory loss? Did he fear that her feelings for him couldn’t possibly be considered valid while he was still a stranger to her?

      She’d focused so

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