Marnie bit down on her lip, trying not to react, trying not to let the pain sour what they were sharing.
She didn’t have long to absorb his words, to turn them over in her mind. He shifted his body weight so that he could kick his jeans and boxers off. He was naked. Gloriously, wonderfully naked. She stared at him, her mind disappearing completely at the sight of Nikos Kyriazis. Her husband: the definition of tall, dark and sexy.
She groaned, dropping her hand to her womanhood, her fingers lightly grazing her flesh. His chest heaved as he sucked in a breath, his eyes sparking with hers. He stood over her, incapable of looking anywhere but at her hand and incapable of moving.
Until something snapped—and a desperate need to finally possess her cracked through him.
‘You’re on the pill.’
It was a statement, not a question. As though it hadn’t occurred to him in earnest that she might not be.
Her cheeks flushed pink as she nodded. It had been the first thing she’d done after signing the pre-nuptial agreement. It had been all she could do to prepare for this moment, for him.
‘I am safe.’
He straddled her, almost trapping her hand, but she snaked it higher. Tentatively, nervously, as though she had no right, she touched his length. He jerked instantly in her palm. She smiled a feminine, feline smile of innate power.
‘You?’
‘Me...?’ He was long and smooth and so, so hard.
He laughed throatily. ‘You’ve been tested?’
‘Oh.’ She hadn’t been but, having never shared her body with another, she supposed it was the same thing. ‘I’m safe, yes.’
He kissed her mouth, squashing her hand, his flesh against her stomach. ‘Good. Because I want to feel you, agape. Really feel you.’
He jerked out of her grip, bringing his tip to her opening, teasing her with his nearness before pulling away. His hands pushed her dress higher, so that he could lift her breasts out of her bra, rub his palms over her flesh. He pushed the dress roughly over her body, the fabric grazing against her over-sensitised skin, pushed it over her face. She shifted upwards so that he could lift it and toss it. Her bra was next.
She opened her mouth, knowing she didn’t want to surprise him with her virginity. She had no sexual experience, but even she thought it was somehow not good etiquette to spring that on someone.
But his mouth took hers, making speech impossible, driving rational thought from her brain once more. She tried to cling on to her conviction, to the knowledge that she should speak the truth to Nikos, but it was like chasing a piece of shell in eggwhite.
It slipped out of her mind. Only the physical remained.
His hands were insistent on her breasts, his thumb and forefinger teasing her nipples, rolling them, before his mouth dragged down her throat to take a peach areola into his mouth. His tongue lashed it and she groaned, felt pleasure building to another inevitable crescendo.
Her heart hammered against her ribs, so hard and fast she could hear the pounding of it in her ears.
She lifted her legs, wrapping them around his waist, pulling him closer. He groaned, his stubble-roughened chin like sandpaper on her soft flesh as he moved his mouth to her other breast, delighting it with the same treatment. His tongue lashed her, chasing invisible circles around the erect peak until she could bear it no longer.
‘Nikos!’ she cried out, tightening her grip around his waist. ‘Please, please now...’
He laughed, but it was a sound without humour. ‘I thought we’d at least get to bed,’ he said ruefully, bringing his tip closer.
There was no fear for Marnie. Despite her innocence, and his impressive size, she knew that this coming together was somehow destined. She had waited a long time for him, and she wasn’t about to let something as silly as fear or concern take the shine off the moment.
Still... That explanation she owed him...the warning...
‘Nikos, I need to tell you—’
‘No.’ He pinned her with his gaze as he lifted himself up on his arms so that he could stare into her eyes. ‘No more explanations. No more words. Not now.’
‘But—’
‘This is not the time for conversation.’
She might have argued with him. After all, she had a strong sense that it was an important thing to share. But before she could say another word he parted her legs, pressing them back onto the carpet, splaying them wide, and thrust into her.
Not gently, nor slowly—why would he?
They were at a fever pitch of desire and he had no reason to suspect that everything they were doing was new and therefore held the potential for pain.
Her eyes squeezed shut as he slammed past the invisible barrier of her innocence, discarding it as swiftly and easily as he had her bra. He swore, the harsh sound jarring her nerves, then swapped to Greek and released a litany of words in his own tongue.
The pain, which had been sharp and searing, was quick to vanish. Like a receding shoreline it disappeared, leaving only the surrender to pleasure in its wake. She moaned as her muscles stretched to welcome him, squeezing his length, gripping him at her core.
He swore again and then shifted, moving gently now, slowly, his eyes on her face, watching for any sign of discomfort. There was none. She began to moan as he stoked her fires. His lips claimed hers, his tongue duelling with hers in time with each delicious thrust until she was about to explode. She curled her toes into the carpet and cried out, the sound muffled by his mouth.
She was incapable of controlling the sensation of release. It burst from her through every pore, every nerve ending. It flew from her body like a bubble being released underwater. It burst, spilling her pleasure across the room in an effervescence of cries and hard breathing.
She arched her back in an ancient step in the dance of sensuality. He gripped her hips, holding her there, his fingers digging into her flesh. He pressed his forehead to hers, their sweat mingling.
He didn’t let her catch her breath before he was torturing her anew. Nerve endings already vibrating at an almost unbearable frequency began to quake and quiver. She groaned as another orgasm, bigger and scarier, chased the other away. This time, though, when she cried out into the room, he chased after her, his own voice combining with hers as pleasure saturated their surroundings.
It was a perfect moment.
Marnie caught the pearl of memory—the way he felt, smelled, tasted—and wrapped it deep into the recesses of her mind, knowing she would want to visit this feeling again and again and again.
He lifted up from her, and the absence of his weight was a pain she hadn’t been prepared for. He pulled away, removing himself from her heart and standing in one swift movement. He paced away, gloriously naked, and for the briefest moment Marnie thought he was actually going to stalk out of the room without a word!
Incensed, she got to her feet, wincing as muscles that had never been tested began to groan in complaint. The sound of running water heaped fuel onto the fire of her anger. He was actually going to shower straight away? Hell, she had no point of reference, but Marnie would have put money on that being an absolutely hurtful thing to do.
The door she had initially thought was a wardrobe must conceal an en-suite bathroom.
The shower was running when she stepped into the tiled room, but Nikos was not behind the glass. He stood, naked, his hands braced on the vanity unit, his head bent. She couldn’t see his expression in the mirror, but tension seemed to emanate from his strong frame.
It arrested her in her tracks.
Fear that she’d somehow got something wrong swirled through her.
She cleared her throat, uncertain what she wanted him to say but knowing she needed to hear something. Some form of reassurance or kindness.
He lifted his head, his eyes spearing hers in the mirror’s reflection. His face was strained, his expression otherwise unreadable. He scanned her face, seeming to shake himself out of his own reverie, then turned to look at her.
‘Did I hurt you?’
It was so far from what she’d expected him to say that relief whooshed through her. She shook her head wordlessly.
He held a hand out, inviting her to join him. She placed her smaller hand in his palm, feeling as if it was symbolic of so much more, and took a step closer. A small line had formed between his brows; he was scowling. Thinking. Deep in analysis.
‘I did not expect...’ he said, shaking his head again.
He tugged her lightly, pulling her to his body. His hands ran the length of her back gently, carefully.
‘Here.’ He swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing visibly as he tried to gain a perspective on this turn of events. He guided her into the shower without breaking his contact with her.
He had one of those enormous ceiling shower heads; warm water doused her the minute she stepped in and she made a little yelp of surprise. Her dark hair was plastered to her face. But once she became accustomed to it the feeling of warmth on her skin was beautiful.
She watched as Nikos took a soft sponge from the shelf and poured shower gel on it. His eyes clung to hers.
‘I do not understand,’ he said finally, bringing the sponge to her shoulders and soaping her slowly.
The shower gel frothed against her skin. It smelled of lime and vanilla.
‘I’m sorry,’ Marnie said, then wished she could take the words of contrition back. She bit down on her lower lip. ‘Not that I think I did anything wrong,’ she hastened to correct. ‘Only that I probably should have warned you.’