Damn! Biting her lip, she threw a look of longing at the guest bedroom the housekeeper had assigned her. It was only ten feet down the hall, but it might as well have been a million miles away as he took her in his arms.
He stared at the way her teeth rubbed against her lower lip. “You’re so beautiful,” he whispered, lightly tracing his finger against her cheek. “And so wild. So much passion behind that prim, dignified secretary. For all those years I never knew.”
She started to tremble. She had to get out of here. She had to escape. She was already perilously close to giving in.
Swallowing, she tried to pick a fight. “Where’s Lindsey tonight?”
“I have no idea. I fired her.”
“You did—what?”
“She was never my lover, Anna. She fed you lies out of some deluded hope that she might be someday. But she was never my type.”
“What’s your type?” she retorted feebly, trying to hide her shock about Lindsey.
He blinked, then shook his head, giving her a predatory smile. “Arrogant Russian-born women with black hair, cat-shaped eyes and a tart mouth.” He leaned forward to breathe in her hair, whispering in her ear. “I remember the sweet taste of you. Tart and sweet all over, Anna…”
She struggled not to remember, not to feel anything as his voice washed over her senses. “Lindsey really wasn’t your lover?”
“Since that first night we were together you’ve been the only one.” He ran his finger gently along her lips. “You’re the mother of my child. I need you, Anna. In my home. In my bed.”
Oh, my God. She was dizzy with longing, unable to speak.
“You are meant to be my wife.” He kissed her softly on the forehead, her cheeks. “It is fate.”
“But I—I don’t want you,” she managed, her heart threatening to jump out of her ribcage.
“Prove it,” he whispered. Encircling her body with his strong arms, he slowly traced his hand down her bare back. She could feel the warmth of his skin, the strength of his hand.
“I don’t,” she insisted, but her voice was so weak that even she didn’t believe it.
He backed her up against the wall between a large plant and a Greek statue in the wide, dark hallway. “Are you sure?”
The only thing of which she was sure was that the strain of not reaching for him was causing her physical pain. She flattened her trembling palms against the wall as he gently ran his hand through her tangled dark hair. His fingers brushed against the sensitive flesh of her earlobe. He traced lightly down her neck.
“I always get what I want, and I’ve never wanted any woman like I want you…”
Lowering his mouth to hers, he kissed her. His lips was gentle and oh, so seductive. Pressing her hands against his chest, she willed herself to resist. To remember the cruel way he’d humiliated her before.
I won’t give in this time. I won’t…
But even as she made token resistance she felt her body surrender. Her head leaned back as his tongue teased her, as his lips seared her own. She felt her mind, soul, everything float away until only longing was left.
“No!” With her last bit of will-power she pushed him away. She tried to push past him toward her room, but he blocked her. She stumbled over her high-heeled sandals, kicking them off as she turned and ran down the hall. He pursued her, as single-minded as a wolf stalking a deer. She raced outside, banging the door behind her.
In the courtyard, dark clouds had spread across the sky, and she could smell coming rain. Silver threads of moonlight laced the sky, barely holding back the storm.
Barefoot, Anna tripped across the mosaic tiles of the courtyard, skirting the edge of the pool’s shimmering water. Her pale skin glowed in the moonlight as she ran beneath the dark shadows of palm trees.
Nikos caught her in front of the enormous Moroccan fountain, his arms wrapping around her from behind.
“I need you, Anna,” he said huskily in her ear, holding her body against his own. “And you need me. Don’t deny it.”
Kissing her neck from behind, he ran his hands over her, cupping her breasts in the suede.
Sucking in her breath, she whirled to face him. Angry words fell unspoken as she saw his face. His handsome, strong face, made somehow even more masculine with the dark bristles of a five o’clock shadow on his chin. In the snug black T-shirt and dark jeans he didn’t look like a billionaire tycoon. He looked like a biker, dangerous and dark, and a devil in bed.
He was right. She wanted him.
Needed him.
Could so easily love him…
“I can’t,” she gasped aloud.