of.
Then Zac was straightening. “This isn’t the place for this. Anyone could see us. Come.” He tugged her hand.
“Zac, we can’t just leave,” Pandora protested, casting a frantic glance back inside.
“Of course we can.” He stopped. His gaze was hot, stripping away thought, leaving nothing but a raw awareness of his strength, his masculinity. Perspiration added a sexy sheen to those sculpted cheekbones and his mouth curved in a wickedly hungry smile. “Why should we stay one more minute when we both want to leave?”
“Because …” Pandora tried to summon her objections, to search desperately for a reason. But all she could think of was the way the silk shirt clung to his damp body. His body. Staring at the bare slice of skin at his throat, she swallowed, then said halfheartedly, “Because it’s our wedding and we haven’t cut the cake.”
He shrugged. “The cake can wait. We can cut it at lunch tomorrow. Now come.” Zac gave her hand an impatient tug.
“Lunch?” She stopped.
“For my family. To present my bride to them.” He pulled her to him and linked his arms behind her back.
“Oh.” She’d thought that once tonight was over she’d have Zac to herself. That from tomorrow they’d be alone. On their honeymoon, as he’d promised, without hordes of people and bodyguards. Obviously not. Enfolded in the circle of his arms, she still felt compelled to ask, “I thought we were going on honeymoon?”
“Afterward.” He shot her a rakish smile, his face close to hers. “Be patient, wife. You haven’t had a chance to meet my family—you told me that yourself. I’ve hogged you to myself for five whole days. But the whole clan are here—it will be a while before they’ll get together again. I thought we’d take the opportunity to let you get to know them a little outside the crush of the wedding.”
“I see.” Instantly, she felt contrary, confused. She wanted to be alone with Zac. But she also wanted to meet his family, his best friends. She wanted to have a chance to talk with Angelo and Tariq and get to know them better. She wanted to ask Dimitri and Stacy what Zac had been like as a little boy. And she wanted to meet his sister.
She wanted them to approve of her.
Zac was quite right. She should meet them. Tomorrow. Nerves started to churn in her stomach. “What if they don’t like me?”
One hand came forward and tipped her chin up. “How can they not? You’re perfect.” His teeth glittered in the dim light, and she made out the glimmer of steel in his eyes. “Who would dare question my judgement?”
Her stomach churned some more. Jeez, she was far from perfect. Had Zac set her up on some sort of pedestal? She licked suddenly dry lips. What if his sister hated her? Zac would not tolerate anyone questioning his choice of bride.
Pandora bit her lip and told herself it would be okay. She was the chosen bride of Zac Kyriakos. His family would accept her or face the consequences. They would love her.
As Zac did.
They had to. She’d do her best to make it happen. And what she couldn’t get right, Zac would sort out. She snuggled closer. Sometimes she forgot his power. Sometimes he was simply Zac, the man she adored.
“Stop worrying, everything will be okay.” His head dipped and his lips met hers. Pandora’s breasts brushed his chest and all her concerns vanished. All she could think of was Zac … his hungry mouth, the strength in the hard arms around her, holding her close, making every atom in her body vibrate with longing.
He tore his mouth away and drew a gasping breath of air. “Now can we leave?”
“Yes.” She sighed.
Two
Zac strode to the drinks cabinet in the corner of the sitting room that formed part of the master suite and poured himself two fingers of the single malt scotch whisky he preferred. A couple of long, raking strides took him to the window. He stared blindly out, not seeing the city lights in the distance. All he could think about was the disturbing silence in his bedroom. His wife was on the other side of the door behind him. He wondered if she was ready for him.
His gut tightened.
He’d been waiting for this moment for three months. He’d been patient. A damned saint.
Throughout their courtship he hadn’t dared stay in close proximity with his bride-to-be. He’d allowed himself only two fleeting visits, each flight on the Kyriakos Gulfstream jet taking twenty-five hours and necessitating a halfway stop in Los Angeles to refuel. The almost fifty hours he’d spent in the air had taken more time than he’d spent with his fiancée, but it had been worth it. To see her. To touch her.
Briefly.
Circumspectly.
And then he’d jetted off before he’d lost it. Before he pulled her into his arms, onto the wide bed in one of the luxurious wooden cabins he’d occupied at High Ridge Station and ravished her to the full extent of his need. His passion would have stunned her. It had shocked him.
Zeus, but she was temptation itself with her silky pale hair and wide-set silver eyes and her slight body with narrow wrists and ankles that made her look so delicate.
But now they were man and wife. All that separated them was a door. He swivelled and stared at the solid wooden door and swallowed.
He had to take it slowly, had to control the vast sea of desire that seethed inside him. The last thing he wanted was to terrify the wits out of his bride on her wedding night. Because Pandora was an innocent.
A virgin.
His virgin bride.
And now it was his wedding night.
Zac intended to savour every moment. Never in his thirty-one years had he made love to a virgin. His outdated sense of honour had always demanded that he choose women who knew the score as his lovers.
But his wife was a different matter.
He was horrified to discover he was nervous. His hands shook around the glass he held—and telling himself the nerves came from desire, not fear, didn’t help. Zac stared into the amber liquid. He didn’t drink as a rule. Had never been drunk in his life—nor even a little inebriated. He despised people who used their addictions as a crutch.
But tonight was different ….
Tipping back his head, he downed the scotch and set the glass down. Plucking up his courage—Dutch courage, he thought mordantly—he made for the bedroom door.
Standing in the centre of Zac’s rich burgundy-and-gold bedroom—her bedroom, too, now—and conscious of the immense bed behind her, Pandora watched as the heavy brass door handle twisted. Something squeezed tight deep inside her. The door opened and Zac stepped through.
He came to an abrupt standstill.
He’d showered, she saw at once, and changed his clothes. The close-fitting black pants and oversize white shirt were sexy as hell. She flushed as she realised he was watching her with
