‘You were going to bed,’ he said quietly, not sure if he was suggesting she leave, or angling for an invitation to join her.
She nodded, her eyes locked to his. ‘I know.’ And she lifted up onto the tips of her toes once more, her body—so soft with gentle curves in all the most fascinating places—pressing against him so he wanted to lift her up and lay her down on the kitchen bench, to take her then and there. Except that felt completely wrong, even more so than just wanting to take her to bed.
Hadn’t he sworn this wouldn’t be a real marriage?
And it still wouldn’t be. Even if they were to succumb to this, they both knew what was on offer—and, more importantly, what wasn’t.
This was a business relationship, first and foremost. Nothing that happened between them would alter the parameters of that.
‘How did your grandfather help you?’
The question surprised him. He ignored it, at first. He no longer wanted to think about his family. Nor to talk about them. All his focus was on this moment, and the woman pressed against him.
A voice from the back of his mind was shouting at him to put an end to this, but it was being swamped by other, more desirable inclinations. Inclinations that were so much easier and more pleasurable to obey.
Her hand ran across his naked chest and he closed his eyes for a moment, inhaling deeply, breathing in her fragrance, the sweetness of it, the innocence, and his gut rolled.
‘Thanos?’
He didn’t know if she was prompting him about her earlier question, or asking him what the hell was happening.
He jerked his eyes open and stared down at her, and a roll of something like dissatisfaction went through him, a roll of betrayal, because it hadn’t been supposed to happen like this. Their wedding was meant to be rational and sensible—their marriage easy to control. They’d both said as much when they’d agreed to enter into this.
Now? He wanted to shift the goalposts, and he needed her to agree to that.
‘I know we said this would be a business arrangement...’ He curved his hands around her hips, lifting her shirt a little so he could feel her bare flesh. Her eyes swept shut, her lashes forming two perfect, dark crescents against the creamy pale of her cheeks.
‘We did.’ Her words were so throaty they were almost impossible to discern.
He lifted a hand to her cheek, holding it in his palm, staring down at her.
‘This doesn’t feel businesslike.’
He padded his thumb to her lip, anguish torturing him, the wait an agony. ‘I have no interest in relationships.’
Her eyes flared a little wider, but she was still. Watchful. Listening.
‘I don’t ever lie about that. I do not believe in leading anyone on.’
She nodded, swallowing, darting her tongue out to lick the corner of her mouth. His arousal strained hard against his pants.
‘Nothing that happens between us will change what I want from you. Our marriage is a construct to enable me to buy a company that I consider to be my birthright. That’s all.’
She nodded slowly and made no effort to move away from him.
‘But, agape mou, I am full of longing for you, and all I can think about is making you mine. Just for this night. Just once.’
A strangled noise escaped her throat, a sound of acquiescence, he thought, but he needed to be sure. He dropped his hands to his sides, holding his body completely still, his nostrils flaring with the strength of his breathing as he stared at her, waiting, impatient, desperately hungry. ‘Tell me you understand,’ he commanded. ‘No.’ He shook his head. ‘Tell me you want what I want.’
Silence crackled between them, and he waited, each second like a torturous beat in time that was hammering against him.
‘I want...’ She paused, and he had no idea if she was intentionally torturing him, or if it was by accident, but, either way, he felt impatience burst through him like a physical force, strong enough to threaten the very fabric of his soul. ‘This one night,’ she continued shakily, and before he could respond she lifted a finger to his lips, keeping him silent. ‘One night, no strings, no questions, no promises.’
And if those limitations sounded a little bit sad, the brightness of her smile contradicted that sentiment. She dropped her hand and looked up at Thanos as though he were everything she’d been waiting for.
And for that night, he really, really wanted to be.
CHAPTER SEVEN