The Helen Bianchin And The Regency Scoundrels And Scandals Collections. Louise AllenЧитать онлайн книгу.
mouth curved into a lazy smile. ‘Somewhere with no interruptions.’
‘But you have an important meeting—’
‘I just cancelled.’
A witching glimmer of humour danced in her eyes. ‘So you did.’
He kissed her briefly, a swift, evocative gesture that didn’t begin to satisfy.
Katrina watched as Nicos negotiated the traffic, aware of him to a heightened degree. His male scent, the faint tang of his cologne.
He possessed an elemental sexuality that stirred her senses to fever pitch. Primitive, raw, and wholly mesmeric, it had the power to turn her into a willing wanton woman, shameless, libidinous, and totally his.
‘A hotel?’
‘You want to shock Sofia and Andre?’
She shot him a mischievous smile. ‘I guess not.’
Katrina slid from the passenger seat as Nicos handed the car over to a porter, and she entered the spacious lobby, admired a magnificent floral arrangement as Nicos checked in, then entered the lift at his side.
Could the other occupants sense the shimmering passion? It was all she could do not to reach out and touch him.
There were words she longed to say, but they could wait. What they wanted, needed, from each other, could not.
Nicos drew her into the suite, fixed the do-not-disturb sign, locked the door, then drew her into his arms.
His mouth closed over hers with a hunger she met and matched, their hands busy as they discarded each layer of clothing, until there was the warmth and intimacy of skin on skin.
Heat and passion, desire and hunger. Wild ravaging need.
Now.
It was a silent language two lovers shared, and a groan escaped her throat as he lifted her high, then slid into her with one powerful thrust, his hands caging her hips.
Katrina flung back her head, exultant in his possession, and she simply held on as he captured her breast, teasing the tender peak until she cried out for mercy. Only to have him ravish its twin.
Her hands slid to his shoulders, then moved up to hold fast his head as she brought it to her own in a kiss that mirrored the sexual act itself.
It was a turbulent coupling, and she gasped as he took her deep, only to withdraw and take her again, long slow movements to maximise her pleasure.
She sensed the moment he was at the brink of losing control, and she joined him as they tipped over the edge, his husky groan mingling with her own in a climax that left them both shuddering their release.
He held her close, nuzzling the sensitive skin at the edge of her neck until the raggedness of their breathing slowed and evened out.
Then he carried her into the bathroom, filled the spa-bath, and lifted her into the pulsating water before retreating to the bar fridge for champagne.
Katrina sipped the chilled contents of her flute as he stepped in to sit facing her.
‘Salute.’ He touched the rim of her flute with his own, and her lips parted in a winsome smile.
She felt almost in awe of the entire gamut of emotions invading her senses. There was love, its strength and tenure overwhelming. An intense awareness there could be no one else, ever, capable of taking his place in her heart.
It was a knowledge imprinted in her soul. Inviolate.
Nicos lifted a hand and trailed light fingers across her cheek, watched her eyes dilate as he traced the outline of her generous mouth.
Her lips parted, soft and slightly swollen beneath his touch.
‘Thank you.’
One eyebrow lifted slightly. ‘For what, precisely?’
Her eyes were the darkest green, and incredibly eloquent. ‘You,’ she said simply. His tenacity, everything that made him the man he was. To consider, even for a moment, that he might have let her walk away filled her with pain.
‘You’re mine,’ Nicos said gently. ‘No other woman comes close to you.’
It hurt unbearably that she had doubted him. Yet the purported facts had been damning, at the time his denial beyond proof. And Georgia had been very convincing. Such incredible lengths Nicos’s former mistress had gone to destroy a marriage.
A faint shiver slithered down her spine. That Georgia had almost succeeded—
‘Don’t go there.’
He read her so well. Too well, she attested silently.
Nicos caught her close and savoured the sweet curve of her shoulder. His hands soothed, brushing lightly over water-slicked skin, pausing to render supplication to vulnerable pleasure pulses before drifting low in an evocative trail that stirred her senses anew.
A soft sigh left her lips as his fingers caressed the sensitised nub, taking her high with a skilled ease that left her breathless.
‘Nicos.’ His name was both plea and protest.
‘Hmm?’ His voice was a teasing murmur at her temple.
‘If you plan taking this further, I should tell you I skipped lunch.’
His husky laughter was almost her undoing. ‘I thought I had your undivided attention.’
Katrina placed her lips against his in a brief teasing kiss. ‘You do.’ Believe me, you do, she added silently.
He rose to his feet in one fluid movement, lifted her effortlessly onto the tiled floor, then wrapped a towel round her slim form before fixing another at his hips.
‘Let’s go check out room service.’
It was later, after a leisurely meal and what remained of the champagne, that Katrina caught hold of his hand and pulled him towards her.
‘Do you have plans for this evening?’
He gave a faint smile. ‘We could go home.’
The word had a nice sound to it. ‘Hmm,’ she teased, pretending to consider their choices. ‘Or we could get dressed.’ She fingered his complimentary towelling robe, one of which she also wore. ‘And take in a nightclub.’
So she wanted to play. He was willing to join in the game. ‘Or a movie.’
Katrina traced a finger down the deep V of his robe. ‘It would be a shame to waste the suite.’
He stood still, content to let her have control, for now. ‘A shame.’
She teased the dark hairs arrowing down to his waist. ‘Do we have any wine?’
‘Red, or white?’
Her faint smile held a wicked tinge. ‘It doesn’t matter.’
‘Want me to check?’
Her fingers were busy, and far too close to a vulnerable part of his anatomy.
‘Uh-huh.’
Nicos moved a few paces, retrieved a small bottle of wine, popped the cork, part-filled two goblets and handed her one.
Katrina dipped a forefinger into the light-coloured liquid, traced a pattern along the edge of his collar bone, then she leaned forward and slowly followed the same path with her tongue.
With one hand she undid the tie fastening his robe and pushed it off one shoulder, then the other, letting it fall to the floor in a heap.
His eyes were dark, and she saw the pulse leap at his throat as she circled one male nipple.
Minutes later his breath hissed through his teeth, and firm fingers closed over her wrist, stilling the evocative trail. ‘Dear God,’ he ground out. ‘Are you done?’
She