how true that was. It went beyond needing revenge on Angus, it went beyond anything to do with Angus. There was nothing and no one in Hannah’s mind as she lifted onto the tips of her toes so she could claim Leonidas’s mouth with her own, her kiss curious, questioning and then desperate.
He kissed her back, their bodies moulded together, desire a flame that was growing bigger than either could control. ‘I want to take this slow,’ he groaned, his hands tangling in her russet hair, curling it up and holding it against her head. He took a step forward, pushing her backwards until Hannah collapsed onto the bed, his body following, the weight and strength of him an impossible pleasure.
‘I want this,’ she said again, more to herself than him. ‘Don’t take it slow.’
He lifted himself up to stare at her, his eyes showing emotions she couldn’t comprehend, or perhaps her ability to comprehend was blunted by the sheer force of her own feelings, which were overwhelming her, robbing her of sense and logic and reason.
‘You don’t know…’
His words were engulfed by her kiss. Hannah was sick of being patient; she was sick of waiting. She’d never known desire like this but that didn’t mean she wasn’t prepared to answer its call. ‘Please,’ she groaned. ‘Make love to me.’
The words were breathed into his being, sparkling like the light show beyond the window. Explosions of light, intense, glowing, hot. He separated her legs, nudging the tip of his arousal against her womanhood, and Hannah held her breath, she held everything.
For a split second, she contemplated telling him she was innocent, that she’d never done this before, but there was no time. He thrust into her and with her gasp he stilled, pushing up to stare down at her, his features harsh in the darkened room.
‘Theos, Hannah, was that…were you?’
‘Don’t stop,’ she said, shaking her head, but Leonidas was already pulling away from her, his body rock hard, his eyes pinning her with intensity. ‘Please don’t stop.’ Her heart crumbled. She hadn’t realised until that moment how desperately she wanted to know herself to be desirable. To know that someone wanted her enough to be unable to control their desire.
He swore under his breath and moved to the night stand, sliding open the drawer and pulling out a foil square. ‘Not once have I forgotten protection,’ he said thickly, the words coated in his own desires, which began to put Hannah’s heart back together again.
She watched as he unfurled a condom over his length then came back to the bed, his body weight returning to hers, bliss fogging into her mind.
‘You should have told me.’ The words lacked recrimination. They were simple. Soft. Gentle. Enquiring. As if he was asking her to assure him she was okay.
‘I didn’t know how.’
‘I’m a virgin?’
She laughed, despite the desire that was pulling at her gut. ‘I was a virgin.’
‘You are sure this is what you want?’
She nodded, lifting her hands up to cup his face. ‘Please.’
But he didn’t respond. Something tightened in his expression, his jaw moving as though he were grinding his teeth. ‘I meant what I said, Hannah. One night. Nothing more.’
‘I know that.’ She nodded, thinking of the situation she’d left behind, the mess her private life was in. The last thing she wanted was the complication of more than one night.
And it was the freedom he needed, the reassurance he obviously craved, because he pushed back into her. Gently this time, slowly, giving her time to adjust and adapt, allowing her inexperienced body a chance to get used to this invasion, to feel his presence and relish in it before taking more of her, more of her, until finally she was crying his name over and over, the foreign syllables tripping off her tongue as rushed breaths filled her lungs.
His mouth moved from hers to her cheek then lower to the sensitive flesh at the base of her neck, his tongue flicking her pulse point while his hands roamed her body, feeling every inch of her, pausing where she responded loudest to his inquisition, teasing the sensitive flesh of her breasts, tormenting her nipples with the skill of his hands.
It was heaven.
Pleasure built inside Hannah like a coil winding tighter and tighter and she dug her nails into his back, moaning softly as the spring prepared to burst. She arched her back and rolled her head to the side, the fireworks gaining momentum as her own pleasure began to detonate. She lifted her hips in a silent, knowing invitation and he held her, his hands keeping her close to him, reassuring her as she lost herself utterly to the compelling, indescribable pleasure of a sexual orgasm.
It was intense and it was fast and it robbed her of breath and control. Her eyelids filled with light, her mouth tasted like steel. She pushed up on her elbows, staring into Leonidas’s eyes, feeling quite mad and delirious with what she’d just experienced.
But it was nowhere near over.
He braced himself above her on his palms, watching the play of sensation on her features, and then he began to move again, his body stirring hers to new heights, his dominance something that made her want to weep.
She knew though, instinctively, that giving into the salty tang of tears would be a bad idea. Even while she was part mad with pleasure, she didn’t want to show how completely he’d shifted something inside her, nor how much this meant to her.
Because Hannah felt a surge of feminine power and it was instantaneous and went beyond words. She didn’t need to tell him how much this meant to her; she felt it and that was enough.
Angus had made her feel precious and valued, he’d made her feel like an objet d’art and that had been nice. It had been better than knowing herself to be an unwanted nuisance, which was how she’d spent a huge portion of her childhood since the loss of her parents. But he’d never looked at her as though he would die if he didn’t kiss her.
He’d never looked at her as though the push and pull of their chemistry was robbing him of sense.
Leonidas was, though.
He moved his body and he stared into her eyes and she felt a cascade of emotions from him to her and none of them would be worth analysing, because this was just one night. A temporary, fleeting, brief night—a slice out of time.
Sitting on the edge of the bed, Leonidas cradled his head in his hands, staring at the floor between his feet. Early dawn light was peeking through the window. Hannah’s rhythmic breathing filled the room, soft and somehow sweet. Sweet? How could breath be sweet? He turned to face her on autopilot, his expression grim.
He didn’t know how, but it was.
She was sweet.
She’d been innocent.
He cursed silently, standing and pulling his pants on, watching her through a veil of disbelief. What the hell had come over him? Four years of celibacy and then he’d spontaneously combusted the second the beautiful redhead had literally bumped into him?
And
