Kitabı oku: «Modern Romance November 2019 Books 1-4», sayfa 10
‘I’m going to do my very best.’ She wondered what else Drakon had told his godfather. That they had agreed to a loveless marriage which was more of a business arrangement than anything else?
‘But you left midwifery?’ Milo continued.
‘Not everyone stays in the job for life,’ she commented gently.
‘Because it was too distressing?’
There was a pause and Lucy could hear the loud beat of her heart hammering beneath the embellished bodice of her wedding dress. He was insightful, she thought, as well as being blunt. There were distressing aspects in every field of nursing, of course there were. But she wouldn’t be telling Milo about her real reason for leaving the profession. Or Drakon, come to think about it. There was no need to, she reminded herself painfully. ‘Something like that,’ she agreed.
Something about her guarded reply made Milo’s eyes narrow. Was he aware of her misgivings and did this make him decide that his interrogation had been a little on the harsh side? ‘You seem the perfect choice of wife for my godson, Lucy. Someone calm and solid. A safe harbour after all those years of him resisting all forms of commitment. Funny, we always thought he’d…’ His words came to an abrupt halt as he plucked two glasses of champagne from a passing waitress and handed one to Lucy. ‘Let me be the first to toast the beautiful bride,’ he said, the fine lines which edged his black eyes crinkling into a smile as he held his goblet aloft. ‘Na zisoun!’
But Lucy could be insightful too and as she chinked her glass to his she wondered what he wasn’t telling her. ‘Always thought he’d, what…?’
She could see speculation flashing in Milo’s eyes, as if working out what she would or wouldn’t be able to tolerate. But she kept her gaze firm and steady, willing him to tell her the truth. Because this was a marriage based on truth, wasn’t it? Not fairy tales or fantasy.
He shrugged. ‘We always thought he might marry Amy.’
Lucy nodded, recognising the name immediately. Of course. Amy. Drakon’s business partner—and the woman who had bought his prospective bride a wardrobe of beautiful new clothes. The elusive Amy who was currently in Singapore wheeling and dealing and had apparently been unable to make the ceremony. She’d wondered if Amy’s explanation of back-to-back meetings had been true, or whether it had been too painful for her to watch Drakon take another woman as his bride. Lucy hoped her expression didn’t give her feelings away as insecurity began to pump through her veins. Instead, she aimed for the calmness she’d always been able to project even in the most trying circumstances—and this was hardly up there with those, was it?
‘We haven’t actually met,’ she said, managing to produce a smile from somewhere.
Milo turned his head as there was some sort of commotion over by the double set of gilded doors and a murmur went up around the ballroom. ‘Well, I think that’s just about to change,’ he said.
Lucy followed the direction of his gaze in time to witness the entrance of the most beautiful woman she had ever seen. The rich emerald material of her slinky dress provided a luscious backdrop for the shiny hair which spilled over her narrow shoulders like melted dark chocolate. Her lips were as red as the berries in the garlands of holly and people were crowding around her making spontaneous whoops of joy—their behaviour in marked contrast to the wariness they’d displayed when introduced to Lucy.
Amy’s dark eyes were searching the room until they alighted on the bride and Lucy felt her heart give a great lurch as Milo spoke.
‘Here’s Amy,’ he said quietly. ‘And she’s heading this way.’
CHAPTER SIX
‘DON’T LOOK LIKE THAT,’ Drakon instructed softly.
‘Like what?’
‘Like a sacrificial lamb all poised and ready for slaughter. Close the bathroom door, agape mou, and come over here so that I can take off your wedding dress as quickly as possible and make love to you, as I have been badly longing to do for so long.’
But Lucy felt paralysed and unable to move. Struck by unwanted fears and an apprehension which was making her limbs feel awkward and heavy. She was trying to blame it on the long day—on the tension leading up to the ceremony itself and the supreme weight of her heavy gown—but deep inside she knew the real cause of her anxiety.
She licked lips which had grown as dry as bone. Because she’d met Amy. She hadn’t wanted to, but she’d liked Amy. She’d liked her very much. Her warm American voice had sounded both friendly and genuine. She’d found herself wishing that Amy had chosen her wedding dress because she was a damned sight sure it would have been more flattering than the one she’d ended up wearing. Remembering Milo’s words, Lucy had even found herself wondering why Drakon hadn’t married the stunning partner who’d been with him for years—when she seemed so beautiful and confident and fitted into his world much better than Lucy ever could.
Her confidence had been battered by the meeting but somehow she had managed to survive the toasts and the dancing before Drakon had whispered that it was time for them to slip away. And now she was standing nervously in the honeymoon suite of the Granchester Hotel, about to begin her married life with a man she didn’t really know.
She swallowed, removing the fragrant garland of roses and the attached veil from her head and placing both on a nearby table. Should she ask if he still wanted to go through with this? If seeing Amy had made him realise what a dumb thing he’d done by marrying someone like Lucy Phillips? Because if he had changed his mind then perhaps they could still get the marriage annulled before they actually consummated it. She was certain that was legally possible and it would certainly be a mature thing to suggest. She opened her mouth to speak, but no words came. All she could feel was the rush of hot colour to her cheeks.
‘Still she stands there like a frightened lamb, which makes me realise I shall have to come to you instead, my blushing bride.’ Drakon’s words were cajoling as he began to walk across the marbled floor towards her, but he moved with the stealthy intent of a dark panther who had just spotted its helpless prey. He had removed his jacket and tie and undone the top buttons of his dress shirt and, with his olive skin glowing and black hair ruffled, he looked relaxed and supremely poised. Unlike her, who was feeling completely overdressed and had started trembling violently, despite the warmth of the room.
He reached her at last and touched his fingertips to her cheek, slowly trailing their tips downwards until they reached the quivering outline of her lips. He bent to brush his mouth over hers in a slow kiss, before raising his head to look at her, his eyes still narrowed speculatively. ‘Don’t look so scared, Lucy,’ he murmured. ‘There’s no reason to be. I mean, it isn’t as if we’ve never done this before, is it?’
But never as man and wife, thought Lucy desperately—the sweet magic of his kiss fading as the enormity of her actions hit her. People said getting married needn’t change anything but of course it did—otherwise, why would anyone bother? Because she wasn’t just starry-eyed Lucy Phillips any more—the virgin who’d had a crush on him since for ever. Now she was the billionaire’s wife and mother to his son—and suddenly she felt like an imposter. ‘It just feels…different.’
‘Then maybe we should stop overthinking it and just rely on our senses to do the work for us. What do you think? Turn around,’ he said softly, without waiting for an answer.
She’d actually thought he couldn’t bear to look at her anxious face but realised he wanted to undo each tiny hook of her wedding gown, his fingertips tiptoeing enticingly over her sensitive flesh. As the corseted bodice came apart and the cool air hit her skin, Lucy closed her eyes and silently practised different ways of asking the questions which had been plaguing her throughout the reception.
Tell me about Amy. How long have you known her? Have you ever made love to her? Or wanted to?
But Drakon’s lips were following in the wake of his fingers. They were whispering over her back and trailing over her quivering flesh as he formed a featherlight path of kisses from neck to waist. Her skin flowered into goosepimples wherever he touched her and against her lacy bra, she could feel the insistent pushing of her nipples. Lucy sucked in a shuddering breath as he turned her around to face him again. The gleam of desire in his black eyes made something clench deep inside her and she wondered if she had taken complete leave of her senses. How could she possibly shatter the mood by asking him about another woman at a time like this?
‘Now,’ he murmured. ‘Why don’t we get rid of this dress completely?’
She heard the rueful note in his voice and was instantly on the defensive. ‘You don’t like it?’
He smiled as he traced a slow finger along the modest neckline of her very traditional gown. ‘I thought it was perfectly appropriate for the entrance of my beautiful bride, but looser and freer is what I have in mind for what happens next.’
He slid the embossed satin of her gown over each shoulder and let the entire confection fall to the ground before effortlessly lifting her from the vast canopy of stiffened petticoats, until she was standing before him in just her white lacy underwear, hold-up stockings and spiky white high-heeled shoes. Slowly, he studied her and his black gaze felt as if it were scorching her skin where it lingered. ‘Much better,’ he said, and his voice was unsteady. ‘Though I’m now feeling a little overdressed. Any ideas how we might redress the balance, Lucy?’
Lucy felt suddenly stricken with shyness as she lifted her fingers to his chest. Was he wondering what had happened to the uninhibited person she’d been back in the summer when he had awoken her sexuality and her appetite for him had been wild and untamed? She was wondering the same thing herself. But back then it had felt as if she had nothing to lose, while now the stakes seemed significantly higher. Yet wasn’t she in danger of sabotaging their union before it had even started if she wasn’t careful?
So snap out of it. Enjoy your wedding night with your gorgeous new husband. Make this so good he’ll never want to look elsewhere for his pleasure.
‘I have some idea,’ she murmured. ‘Let me help you out of this shirt.’
She was so nervous she could barely undo the first button, but as soon as she made contact with his skin all her reservations melted away like honey left out in the midday sun. How could she have forgotten just how beautiful he was? His olive skin gleamed with health and vitality and hungrily she ran her gaze over all that hard, honed muscle. Her fingers drifted over his hair-roughened chest and Lucy heard him expel a shuddered sigh as she slipped the shirt from his shoulders and it slid to the ground. Which just left his trousers. She swallowed. It was easy to see how huge and taut his erection was, straining against the fine material, and her cheeks grew hot as she dropped her head to his shoulder.
‘Oh,’ she whispered against his neck, shy once more.
‘Anyone would think you’d never seen me in such an intimate state before.’
She swallowed. ‘It seems like a long time ago.’
‘It seems like that to me, too,’ he agreed raggedly as he tugged at the belt of his trousers and swiftly bent to remove the rest of his clothes, his black eyes opaque with lust as he straightened up again. ‘I’ve never had to wait for a woman like I’ve waited for you, Lucy. And it has been an exquisite kind of torture, do you realise that?’
Was it the thrill of the unknown which was making his voice dip with such husky intent as he unclipped her bra, so that her breasts sprang free against his bare chest? Did novelty alone account for the tense shudder which ran through his big body as he tugged her panties down over her thighs and kicked them impatiently away, before dextrously disposing of her high heels and filmy stockings so that they ended up in a white heap on the floor? Lucy didn’t know and, right then, she didn’t particularly care because he was lifting her into his arms and carrying her over to the bed, laying her down in the centre of the vast mattress like a willing sacrifice. His gaze moved down over her body. He stroked his fingers over her breasts, her belly, her hips, his narrowing eyes noting the restless wriggle of her bare bottom against the duvet. And then he smiled.
‘Want me?’ he questioned softly.
‘You know I do,’ she whispered.
He lay down on top of her, pushing her hair back from her flushed face before bending his head to kiss her. And as Lucy opened her eager lips to meet his, she felt a powerful wave of emotion rushing through her. Because this was the bit she remembered best. The sensation of his flesh pressing against hers. The long, drugging kisses and entwining of limbs and the feeling that this was somehow meant to be. Eagerly, she touched him back, and he moaned softly as she stroked him, and for a while they both seemed content with a rapt and silent rediscovery of each other’s bodies. And then suddenly the tempo seemed to change. Drakon’s body became taut as he captured her arms above her head and held them against the pillow, before pressing his mouth to her nipple so that she could feel the warmth of his breath against the erect skin.
‘Oh,’ she gasped softly.
‘I love your breasts, Lucy,’ he said huskily. ‘They’re so damned…big.’
As if to illustrate his pleasure, he began licking what felt like every inch of her, making her squirm with helpless delight. And meantime his hand had slipped between her legs and was spreading open her thighs, one finger thrumming urgently against her creamy heat so that Lucy’s head fell back against the pillow. His rhythm was blissful and relentless—it rocketed her straight up to the stars and she came very quickly, her body arching beneath his hand as the spasms clenched low in her belly and then reverberated through her body like a sweet, spent storm. And when at last her eyelids fluttered open, it was to meet the black gleam of his penetrating gaze.
‘And I like watching you come,’ he observed throatily. ‘I like it when your body goes rigid and you make those gasping little sounds at the back of your throat.’
These were starkly sensual statements which only an hour ago might have had her blushing like a schoolgirl, but not now—not when satisfaction was flooding through her still-pulsing body. Yet despite the intense pleasure which had transformed her, it wasn’t enough, Lucy decided. Not nearly enough. Because she was no longer just some random woman he’d ended up having unexpected sex with on his private Greek island. She was now his wife and she wanted him to make love to her properly. She wanted him inside her. Badly. Reaching her arms up around his neck, she pulled his head down, and as his lips met hers a restless heat begin to rise inside her once more. She heard him give a low laugh as his tongue slipped inside her mouth and he began to circle his hips in a provocative demonstration of his arousal, until she thought she would go crazy with longing.
She realised he was rolling away from her and, for one illogical moment, wondered if her earlier fears had materialised and he was actually having second thoughts about consummating the marriage. But his reasoning was far more pragmatic than that. He was reaching for something on the bedside locker and Lucy swallowed when she saw what it was. A condom. Of course he would wear a condom. She could feel faint hysteria—and fear—spiral up inside her, because he’d told her he didn’t want any more children and he was just making sure that wouldn’t happen. He wasn’t to know that protection was completely unnecessary in her case, was he?
‘Drakon?’
His eyes were smoky with lust as he turned round. ‘Ti?’
‘I’m… I’m on the pill.’
He smiled approvingly as he dropped the condom back on the nightstand. ‘What excellent planning, my clever wife,’ he murmured. ‘That’s exactly as it should be.’
Hysteria began to build again. Should she tell him she’d been on the pill for years because of her endometriosis? But by then he was rolling back towards her, pulling her into his arms with a groan of feral hunger, and Lucy could feel his naked hardness touching against her moist heat. He bent his dark head and was kissing her with a thoroughness which was making her heart want to burst out of her chest, because when he kissed her like that it felt like a fairy tale. And why would she risk destroying that by talking about her tragic gynaecological history at a time like this, when none of it related to their marriage plans?
‘Now,’ he breathed as he eased himself inside her. ‘Evge! You are so tight, Lucy. So very tight, my sweet little virgin.’
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