The Antonakos Marriage. Kate Walker
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She had just this one night; she couldn’t risk the nightmare of any physical legacy that might result from it. That would destroy her and her family at a single stroke.
‘Do you…?’
It was a struggle to get the words out and not succumb to the erotic enticement that his lips were promising. But she had to say it. The woman he thought she was would never let it go unmentioned.
‘Have you any—protection?’
‘Of course.’
He didn’t even miss a beat. The response came as his caressing lips moved lower, found another pleasure spot Skye hadn’t even known existed.
‘The hotel shop stocks everything.’
‘Oh, yes.’
She hoped she sounded more assured than she felt. She had had a desperate attack of nerves when he had approached Reception to register and with a muttered excuse had disappeared into the nearest Ladies to hide for a moment. By the time she had emerged, cheeks flushed brightly, he had been waiting for her by the bank of lifts, the room key in his hand.
‘So now you can relax and know I’ll take care of you.’
There was such a darkly sensuous undertone in that remark that it made her toes curl inside her shiny patent leather shoes. Suddenly wanting to be rid of even such minor restrictions, she kicked off the high-heeled pumps and relaxed into Anton’s hold, abandoning herself to the moment. His arms almost lifted her off her feet, taking her up and hard against him so that she shivered at the feel of the hard ridge that marked the arousal he had no intention of hiding.
She flung her arms up around his neck, linking her fingers in the silky strands of the black hair as she gave herself up to the kiss. It was hard and hot and hungry and it fuelled an answering need inside her until she was burning up with it, swimming on a heated flood tide of passion.
Skye had never known her body to feel so alive before. Her heart was thudding, her head spinning. Her breasts felt swollen and, oh, so sensitive, the tight buds of her nipples stinging sharply.
She was swung off her feet, lifted from the floor and carried the short distance to the bed. Laying her down gently on the blue and green quilted covering, he kept his mouth on hers while his wickedly enticing hands found the fastenings of her dress, dispensing with the buttons in moments, the delicate lace of her bra no protection at all from his burning gaze.
Or the touch of those knowing hands.
At the sensation of the heat of his palms on her breasts, stroking delicately over the peach-coloured lace, catching and rolling the hardened nipples between strong fingers, Skye’s eyes flew open, meeting the glittering black gaze of the man above her.
‘An—’ she began, but he silenced her once more, kissing the exclamation from her trembling mouth.
‘Close your eyes,’ he commanded against her lips. ‘Close them and keep them shut.’
He caught her uncertain, anxious gaze and lifted his head to kiss her eyelids closed again, returning her to the warm velvet darkness once more.
‘Don’t look, just feel.’
How could she do anything else when already those tormenting hands were easing her bra from her, tracing hot, erotic patterns across her breasts, circling the peaks, making the nipples strain against their touch?
‘Feel this…’ he muttered with another tormenting caress across the sensitised skin, trailing fiery paths that sent shock waves of sensation pulsing through her.
The gentleness was not enough. She wanted—needed—more! Blindly reaching for him, she closed her hands over his powerful shoulders, pulling him down towards her, crushing her lips to his.
‘Help me—show me…’ she began against his mouth, only realising just in time what she had almost given away, revealing herself to him more than she truly wanted to.
She didn’t want him to realise—or even to suspect—her innocence. What would a man as sophisticated and worldly as this Anton seemed want with an innocent fresh up from the country—a real country bumpkin who had never known how it felt to make love with a man? An innocent whose lack of experience would no doubt make him laugh or shake his head in disbelief.
This man didn’t want an untutored lover. He must be used to women as knowing and as experienced as he clearly was. She would die of embarrassment if he realised how far from experienced she was.
‘Show me how to please you,’ she amended hastily, hoping she had caught the betraying words soon enough.
‘You’re doing okay all by yourself,’ was the muttered response and the raw edge to his voice made her heart jerk in unexpected sensual triumph.
Perhaps with her eyes closed she could be the woman he would want. With her eyes closed she felt less inhibited, less self-conscious. With her eyes closed she could indulge her need to reach out and touch, to let her hands close over the tight muscles of his shoulders and arms under the fine linen of his shirt.
When had he shrugged off his jacket?
Even working blind, her fingers had no problem dealing with the buttons down the front of his shirt, and within moments her searching hands had found the hot, hair-roughened skin of his chest. It felt so warm to her touch, the tingling excitement tantalising her, driving her to explore further—much to Anton’s delight, to judge by his groan of response.
‘Quite okay…’
‘You’re not doing badly either.’
Somehow she managed to find just the right, casual tone. She was stunned to realise that he had slipped her clothing from her without any of the awkward tugging and pulling she had anticipated. The air of the overheated hotel room was warm on her exposed flesh, and, keeping her eyes closed, she managed not to blush hotly at the realisation that those dark, deep-set eyes were now fixed on her near naked body.
But she couldn’t ignore the fact of his touch. Her heart leapt at the first brush of hard fingers on delicate skin and it was all she could do not to curl up into a defensive ball and, muttering, ‘Oh, don’t,’ try to hide away from him.
The sensation only lasted a moment. A couple of heart-shuddering seconds later she was relaxing into the wonderful sensations his caresses woke in her. Her hungry senses stirred, thrilled, cried out for more. And the whimpering cries that were all she could manage spoke to him only too clearly of her need.
The stroking hands grew harder, urgent, more demanding. And as she writhed beneath his touch his mouth moved over her too, kissing his way along her shoulder, down to the slope of her breast, catching the already aching nipple between his lips and tugging hard.
Skye’s only response was a high, wordless sound of wonder as her breath stilled in her throat and her body arched against his in urgent invitation.
‘Please…’
It was all