Greek Bachelors: Paying The Price: What the Greek's Money Can't Buy / What the Greek Can't Resist / What The Greek Wants Most. Maya Blake
arrowed through him made his pulse race dangerously. Disturbingly.
He glanced at the tight coil of golden hair that gleamed as they passed under bright streetlights, at her pert nose and generously wide and full mouth; the dimple that winked in her cheek when she pursed her lips in irritation, like she was doing now...
The thrill escalated, rushing through his blood.
Theos...
He rubbed at his tired eyes with the heels of his palms. What the hell was wrong with him? Strong coffee; that was what he needed. Or a stiff drink to knock everything back into perspective.
Because there was no way in hell he planned on following through with this insane attraction to Moneypenny. No damned way...
The streets were deserted as they approached the leafy centre of Pointe Noire. Their hotel was pleasant enough with a sweeping circular driveway that ended in front of the white three-storey, shutter-windowed pre-colonial building.
The manager waited in the foyer to greet them personally, although his gaze widened when it lit on Brianna.
‘Welcome to the Noire, Monsieur Pantelides. Your suite is ready, although I was told you would be the sole occupant?’
‘You were misinformed.’
‘Ah, well, my apologies for the lack of more prestigious suites but the rooms were all booked up the moment the crash...er...the moment the unfortunate event happened.’ He couldn’t quite keep the gloating pride from his voice.
As the manager called the lift and they entered the small space, he sensed Brianna’s tension mount. The moment they were let into the suite, he understood why.
The ‘suite’ label had clearly been a lofty idea in someone’s deluded mind. The room was only marginally larger than a double room with the sleeping area separated from the double sofa by a TV and drinks unit.
He only half-listened as the manager expounded on the many features of the room. His attention was caught on Brianna, who stood staring at the bed as if it was her mortal enemy, her shoulders stiff and her face even stiffer. Had their whole reason for being here not so dire, he’d have been amused.
He dismissed the manager. He’d barely left when a knock came at the door.
Brianna jumped.
‘Relax, it’s only our bags,’ he reassured her with a frown.
‘Oh, yes, of course.’
The porters entered and Sakis made sure they left just as quickly.
Silence reigned, thick and heavy, permeating the air with a sexual atmosphere he recognised but was determined to ignore. It had no business here.
And yet, it refused to be stemmed.
He watched as she came towards him and reached for the bag the porter had left beside him.
‘You take the shower first,’ he said. The image that slammed into his mind sent a dark tremor through him but he forced himself to breathe through it.
She straightened and her gaze darted to the bathroom door in the so-called suite. ‘If you’re sure.’
‘Yes, I’m sure.’ Then, unable to stop himself, even while every sense screamed at him to step away, he reached out and rubbed the smudge on her cheek.
Her breath caught on a strangled gasp, sending another punch of heat through him. His senses screamed harder, but his fingers stayed put, stroking her soft, warm skin.
‘You have an oil streak right there.’ He rubbed again.
With a sharply drawn breath, she moved away, but her eyes stayed on him, and in their depths Sakis saw the clear evidence of lust...and another emotion he’d never seen in a woman’s eyes when it came to him: fear.
What the hell?
Before he could question her, she swung away. ‘I...I’ll try not to take too long.’
With quick strides, she disappeared into the bathroom and slammed the door, leaving him standing there staring at the door with a growing erection and an ever-rising pulse rate that made him certain he risked serious health problems if he didn’t get it under control.
Thee mou... Of all the times and places—and sheer idiocy, bearing in mind the recipient—it seemed his libido had taken this moment to run rampant and to focus its attention on the one person he should absolutely not focus on.
Crisis heightened the senses and made men and women succumb to inappropriate urges, leading to serious errors of judgment that later came back to bite them in the ass.
Whatever was happening here, he needed to kill it with a swift, merciless death. And he certainly needed not to think of Moneypenny behind that door, removing her clothes, stepping naked, beneath the warm shower...
Moving the drinks cabinet, he poured himself a shot of whiskey. As he downed it, his gaze strayed to the bathroom door.
Nothing was going to happen. He refused to let it.
As if hammering home the point, he heard the distinct sound of the lock sliding home.
And poured himself another drink.
* * *
Brianna sagged against the door, unable to catch her breath. The bag slid uselessly from her fingers and she didn’t need to look down to see evidence of her body’s reaction to Sakis Pantelides. She could feel every inch of her skin tightening, burning, reacting to his touch as if he was still rubbing her cheek.
No. No. No!
Anger lent her strength, enough to tug her boots off and fling them away with distressed disgust. Her oil-smudged cargo pants went the same way, followed by her once white T-shirt. About to reach for the bra clasp, she glanced up and caught the reflection of her tattoo in the wide bathroom mirror.
Sucking in a deep breath, she stepped forward, clutched the sink and struggled to regulate her breathing.
She stared hard at the tattoo on her shoulder. I refuse to sink. It was the mantra she’d recited second by second in her darkest days. And one she’d tapped from whenever she needed strength or self-belief...anything to get her through a tough day. It was a reminder of what she’d survived as a child and as an adult. A reminder that depending on anyone for her happiness or wellbeing was asking to be devastated. She’d made that mistake once and look where she’d ended up.
The tattoo was a reminder never to forget. To keep swimming. Never to sink.
And yet it was exactly what she was doing; sinking into Sakis’s eyes, into the miasma of erotic sensations that had reduced her control to nothing. Sensation that had grown with each look, each careless touch, and was now threatening to choke all common sense out of her.
Her hand settled over her heart as if she could stem its chaotic beating. Then she slowly traced it down, past the scar on her hip to the top of her panties and the heat pooling just below.
The urge to touch herself was strong, almost supernatural. The urge to have stronger, more powerful hands touch her there was even more visceral.
Gritting her teeth, she traced her fingers back up to the scar.
Slowly, strength and purpose returned.
Between the tattoo and the scar, she had vivid reminders of why she could never let her guard down again, never trust another human being again. She intended to cling to them with everything she had. Because the purpose she’d seen in Sakis’s eyes had scared her.
A determined Sakis was a formidable Sakis.
She would need all the strength she could muster. Because she had a feeling this crisis was far from over; that Sakis would demand more from her than he ever had.
She whirled from the sink and entered the shower. By the time she’d washed the grime off her body, a semblance of calm had returned.
She