Шантель Шоу – Eligible Greeks: Tycoon's Revenge: Proud Greek, Ruthless Revenge / The Power of the Legendary Greek / The Greek Millionaire's Mistress (страница 16)
She lifted a hand to massage her temples, and pleaded shakily, ‘Thanos, can we talk?’
His dark brows lifted in an expression of arrogant amusement. ‘Talking is the last thing I have in mind for tonight.’ He strolled towards her and drew her hand away from her face. ‘We made a deal, Tahlia,’ he reminded her, his voice suddenly harsh and his eyes glittering with cold indifference. ‘And now the time has come for you to honour your side of it.’
Her heart was thudding so hard that it hurt to breathe. ‘Please…’ she cried urgently. ‘I swear I had no idea that James was married to your sister…’
She was prevented from saying any more when Thanos placed his finger across her lips. ‘Save your lies—and your tears.’ He surveyed her over-bright eyes dispassionately, and brushed away the single tear that slipped down her cheek with his thumb. ‘I’m not taken in by either,’ he said savagely, and lowered his head, capturing her mouth in a punishing kiss that sought to dominate as he forced her lips apart with a bold flick of his tongue.
Once again he had moved with the speed of a panther, pouncing for the kill, and once again Tahlia was unprepared for the molten heat that swept through her the instant he touched her. What was wrong with her? she wondered despairingly. Pride dictated that she should remain stiff and unresponsive in Thanos’s arms, but he intoxicated her senses so that she could not think logically, and she was conscious only of the slight abrasion of his cheek against hers, the tingling sensation in her breasts as he crushed her against his chest.
Thanos finally lifted his head and stared down at her, his eyes gleaming when she unconsciously traced her tongue over her swollen lips. ‘This madness is not mine alone. You feel it too,’ he grated, his fury and frustration palpable—and yet Tahlia sensed that his anger was directed as much at himself as her, and she knew that, like her, he was startled by the intensity of the sexual chemistry which blazed between them. ‘You are like a fever in my blood,’ he said hoarsely. ‘I wanted you from the moment I saw you, and now I cannot wait any longer.’
‘Thanos…no!’ She gave a shocked cry when he moved his hands to the neck of her blouse and wrenched the fragile material apart, so that little pearl buttons pinged in all directions. Before she had time to react he reached around and unsnapped her bra, casting the delicate scrap of lace to the floor so that her small pale breasts were exposed to his heated gaze.
He was breathing hard, and Tahlia watched in fascination as dull colour flared along his magnificent cheekbones. The feral hunger in his eyes made her tremble with a mixture of apprehension and an unbidden shivery excitement. No man had ever looked at her the way Thanos was doing now, and she instinctively tried to cover her breasts with her hands.
He caught her wrists and tugged them down to her sides. ‘Don’t hide yourself from me,’ he said harshly. ‘I want to feast my eyes on every inch of your delectable body.’
His words made Tahlia tremble—not with fear, she acknowledged, but with a feverish excitement she could not deny. Her heart slammed in her chest when he pushed her hair over her shoulders, then slid his hand down her body and curled his fingers possessively over her breast. She tensed, expecting him to be rough, but his palm was warm on her bare flesh, and when he stroked his thumb-pad across her nipple in a feather-light caress she gasped as exquisite sensation arced through her.
‘Not just beautiful, but delightfully responsive,’ Thanos drawled.
She blushed scarlet at the undisguised satisfaction in his voice, but her body seemed to have a will of its own, and she could do nothing to prevent the dusky nipples from swelling into taut peaks. He moved his hand to her other breast and rolled the swollen nipple between his thumb and forefinger, sending another lightning bolt of sensation spiralling down to the pit of her stomach. She caught her breath when he tugged her backwards and lowered his head to the slender arch of her body.
He flicked his tongue back and forth over her nipple, building her pleasure to a level that was almost unbearable, and she gave a choked cry when he finally desisted in teasing her and clamped his mouth around the provocative peak. The sensation of him suckling her was so breathtaking that her lashes drifted down and she gave herself up to the storm he was creating, gasping with pleasure when he moved to her other breast and laved the throbbing peak with firm, wet strokes of his tongue.
She was dimly aware of Thanos dragging her skirt over her hips, and he muttered something in Greek in a hoarse tone when he eased away from her and trailed his eyes down from her pouting breasts to her flat stomach, then lower to her black lace knickers and gossamer-fine black stockings. Tahlia held her breath when he placed his hand on the strip of creamy flesh above her stocking-top, and she felt liquid heat flood between her thighs. Was he going to take her here and now? Drag her to the floor and spread her beneath him on the carpet?
Tension gripped her. Until now she had always believed that she would only ever make love when she was in a loving relationship. She had loved Michael, but their gentle romance had still been in its early stages when he had been snatched from her; she had thought she loved James, but he had lied to her, and she was glad she had discovered his treachery before they had become lovers. Maybe it was time she gave up on love, she thought bleakly. There was no love between her and Thanos. Just mistrust and dislike and a searing passion that obliterated every logical thought and demanded to be appeased. She had agreed to have sex with him in return for her parents’ financial security and she would not back out now. But it was only fair that she tell him she was not the experienced seductress he believed.
Thanos stared down at Tahlia’s semi-naked body and drew a ragged breath, his nostrils flaring as he fought to bring his raging hormones under control. The delicate skin of her inner thigh felt like satin beneath his fingers, and the urge to move his hand higher and slip it beneath her lacy knickers was so strong that it took every ounce of his formidable will-power to deny himself the pleasure of touching her intimately. His brain acknowledged what she had done—how she had hurt Melina—but his body did not seem to care that she that she was an immoral slut, and it was on fire for her.
‘Thanos…I have to tell you…’ Her voice shook, but he ruthlessly hardened his heart against her.
‘But I don’t have to listen—and certainly not to more of your lies and excuses,’ he said harshly, disregarding her startled cry as he swept her up into his arms and strode towards the bedroom.
Tahlia was shaking so badly she was sure Thanos must feel the tremors running through her body. Perhaps he thought she was trembling with excitement? She could not bear to meet his gaze and see his familiar mocking expression, so instead she curled her arms around his neck, pressing her face against his shoulder while he carried her. It was not too late to stop this, a voice whispered in her head. She could tell Thanos she would rather sell her soul to the devil than trade her body for hard cash. But what about her parents? another voice screamed inside her. How could she allow them to lose their home and the worry-free retirement they deserved?
Thanos shouldered open the door of the master bedroom, strode over to the bed, and laid Tahlia down on the peacock-blue satin bedspread. Her glorious hair fanned across the pillows in a halo of shimmering gold. He could not resist winding a long silky strand around his fingers, and heat surged through him as he lowered his eyes to her breasts and feasted on their milky-pale beauty.
Why Tahlia? he asked himself angrily. He had never wanted any woman the way he wanted her. His desire was mindless, desperate, an irresistible force clamouring to be assuaged, and his body shook with need as he stretched out beside her and pressed his mouth to the fragile line of her collarbone. She tasted of ambrosia, her skin as soft as rose petals beneath his lips, and he could not resist tracing them down her body, pausing at each breast to anoint its blush-pink tip, relishing the feel of her nipples swelling inside his mouth before he moved lower still.
Her sweetly puckered navel invited him to explore it with his tongue. He felt the tremor that ran through her, but she made no effort to touch him, and lay passive while he caressed her, as if she were somehow detached from her surroundings—from him. Anger coiled inside him. Did she think she could simply lie there, as unresponsive as a marble figurine while he took his pleasure? When he had finished with her would she wash herself clean of his touch? Believing that the price she had paid for her parents’ house had been worth soiling herself for? He did not want a sacrificial offering, he thought grimly. He wanted her warm and willing in his bed, and he was determined that soon she would be begging for his possession.