Modern Romance July 2015 Books 1-4. Maisey YatesЧитать онлайн книгу.
it. Her heart began to beat even faster because now he had started brushing his fingers over her lacy thong and with that came a wave of lust so strong that it washed away the residual grains of her conscience.
‘Mmm,’ he said as the dress fell to the ground, pooling around her ankles and leaving her legs completely bare. He was kissing her neck and his fingers were hooking into her panties and she felt a molten rush of heat.
She knew she should stop him. But she couldn’t. She just couldn’t. It had been so long since she had done this and she was cold. So cold. And Loukas was making her feel warm. Warmer than she’d felt in a long time.
His fingers had moved from her hip and were now inside her panties, alighting on her heated flesh with a familiarity which seemed as poignant as it was exciting.
‘It’s been a long time,’ he said almost reflectively, drifting a fingertip across the engorged bud.
Jessica’s body jerked with pleasure. She wanted to say something—anything—as if to reassure herself that she was still there and that it was all real. But the words simply wouldn’t come. His touch had robbed her of the power to speak. Her breath had dried in her throat and all she could think about was the hunger building up inside her and dominating her whole world. Her thighs seemed to be parting of their own accord and she felt the warmth of his breath as he smiled against her neck.
‘You are very wet, koukla mou,’ he murmured.
She swallowed as her eyes closed. ‘Yes.’
‘Wet for me?’
‘Y-yes.’
‘Have you been imagining me touching you here?’
‘Yes!’
‘And...here?’
‘God, yes.’ Jessica gasped, even though his words seemed to contradict his actions. Because what he was saying was provocative, but strangely cold. He was objectifying her, she realised with a brief rush of horror and she tried to pull away. To end it while she still could. But by then it was too late because she was starting to come and he was giving a low laugh of triumph as he swivelled her round to cover her mouth with his, his hand still cupping her flesh while his kiss drowned out her broken cry of surrender.
His tongue was in her mouth as she pulsated helplessly around his finger and the combination of that double invasion only increased her pleasure, until she thought she might have slid to the ground, if he hadn’t been holding onto her so tightly. Time passed in a slow, throbbing haze before her eyelids fluttered open to find Loukas watching her, still with that faintly triumphant smile on his face. Slowly, he withdrew his finger and she noted that it wasn’t quite steady.
‘Jess,’ he said and picked her up and carried her into the bedroom to lie her down on the bed.
‘Loukas,’ she whispered, and the tip of her tongue came out to slide over her parted lips.
Loukas felt the savage beat of his heart as he looked at her glistening mouth and his erection was so hard that it took him a moment or two before he was able to move. He wanted to tear off his clothes and just take her. But not yet. Not until he was in control of his feelings. Until he was certain that he was in no danger of being trapped by the powerful spell she had always been able to weave around him.
He tried to study her objectively as he shrugged off his overcoat and hung it over the back of a chair, then went back towards the bed on which she lay. Strange that she should have been so cold and uptight in front of the camera today and yet had fallen apart the moment he’d touched her. But hadn’t that always been her way? He gave a bitter smile. The only time he’d ever been able to penetrate her haughty exterior—in more ways than one—was when she was naked and writhing beneath him. Because outside the bedroom, or the sitting room, or the car—or wherever else they happened to have been doing it—she had always been the very definition of cool.
But not now.
Her eyes were smoky, her face flushed with satisfaction and her thighs parted in such open invitation that he was almost tempted to bury his head between them and lick her. He thought how at home she looked, lying back against the brocade covering the ornate four-poster bed. But of course, she was. This place was classy and luxurious; it was the environment to which she was most suited. The one in which he had never quite fitted.
He reached out his hand and laid it over her left breast. He could feel her heart pounding beneath the lace of her provocative bra as he circled a thumb over the nipple which was peaking through the scarlet and black lace. ‘You never used to wear such frivolous underwear when I was with you, koukla mou,’ he observed silkily. ‘So what happened? Did the men who followed me demand that you dress to please—or have your tastes simply changed and evolved with time?’
Jessica opened her mouth to tell him that Patti had taken her shopping after they’d been to the hairdresser, explaining that the revealing gowns wouldn’t tolerate anything except the briefest of bras, and that her panties should preferably match to get her in the mood for the shoot. Except that it hadn’t worked out that way, had it? She had stood posing like a female ice cube in the dramatic and sexy dress and had only really come to life when Loukas had touched her.
She bit her lip. And how he had touched her. She had forgotten how exquisite an orgasm could feel when it was administered by the only man she had ever really cared about. She had forgotten how weak and powerless it could make you feel. As if all your strength had been sapped. It could make you vulnerable if you weren’t careful, and she needed to be careful.
She shouldn’t have allowed it to happen, but now that she had she wanted it continue. She had acted foolishly but maybe understandably—or at least, understandable to her. She was like someone who’d broken her diet by opening a packet of cookies. But why stop at one, when four would be much more satisfactory and make the sin worthwhile? She didn’t want her enduring memory of sex with Loukas to be a one-sided, rather emotionless pleasuring. She wanted to make love to him properly. Hadn’t she wanted that for years? She wanted to feel him inside her. Deep inside her. Filling her and heating her as nothing else could.
She reached up her hand and began to unbutton his shirt, determined to approach this as if they were equals. Because she wasn’t some little virgin who’d just been seduced, and though she might lack his undoubted sexual experience, there was no reason for him to know that.
‘Do you really want to talk about other men at a moment like this?’ she questioned coolly, slipping free another button and rubbing her hand against his hair-roughened chest.
His mouth tightened as he leaned forward and began to tug at the belt of his trousers. ‘No,’ he said. ‘I don’t. And soon you won’t be able to, because I’m going to make you forget every other man you’ve had sex with. You won’t be able to remember a single damned thing about them, because all you’ll be able to think about is me.’
The arrogant boast shocked her but it thrilled her, too. Nearly as much as it thrilled her to see him peel off his clothes to reveal his body in all its honed olive splendour. It was as magnificent as it had ever been but suddenly Jessica gasped because there—zigzagging over the side of his torso like a fleshy fork of lightning—was a livid scarlet scar. Her fingers flew to her lips before reaching out to touch it, as tentatively as if it might still hurt. As if it might open up and begin to bleed all over the bed.
‘What happened to you?’ she whispered.
‘Not now, Jess,’ he growled.
‘But—’
‘I said, not now.’ His hand slid between her thighs and began to move, effectively silencing all further questioning. ‘Does that kind of detail please you?’ he rasped. ‘Does it turn you on to think that your rough, tough bodyguard has the mark of violence on his body?’
There was something in his tone she didn’t understand—some dark note which lay just beneath the mockery—and Jessica was confused. But by then he was stroking her again and his mouth was on her breast, and she was