sent the blood rushing in her veins through all her body.
It was his eyes. She could see it in his eyes. See the gold flecks deep within. See the intent in them. The very, very clear intent.
Her lips parted, taking in breath. Instantly she could see his eyes narrow, that edge of tension tauten through him.
She had to move—but she was frozen. Completely frozen.
Waiting.
Helpless.
He stopped in front of her. She could feel his presence, invading hers. Catch the male musk coming from him, overlaid by the spiced notes of expensive aftershave.
He was looking down at her, out of those obsidian night-dark eyes, and she couldn’t move—couldn’t move. Could only gaze, helpless, up at him.
And drink him in. Drink in the sable hair, the lean planes of his face, the strong, straight cut of his nose, the faint masculine shadow along his jaw, roughening his smooth, tanned skin.
Oh, God, she thought. He is just so, so beautiful…
Her hand half lifted. She wanted to reach up, to cup her fingers along his jaw, feel the roughness of his skin, smooth her finger along the high arch of his cheekbones, reach with her mouth to his, feel the touch of it on hers. To slide her fingers into that silky sable hair and draw him to her, parting her lips…
She tried to stop herself.
But she couldn’t. Had no power over herself any more. She felt her body sway—sway towards him. She felt her hand lift, reach up…
He caught it. A swift, sudden movement that stilled her. His fingers closed around her wrist, pulling her towards him with slow, inexorable strength.
She gazed up at him, drowning.
His pupils were like pinpricks, flared with gold.
‘Indulge me,’ he said softly.
Her pupils dilated. She could not help it. Did not know it. Could only stand there, lips parted, wrist caught, her body swaying towards his.
‘Indulge me,’ he said again, more softly.
And then, with his other hand, he slowly, very slowly, slid one long finger underneath the thin strap over her shoulder and gradually, little by little, drew it down over her arm until he had peeled bare her breast.
‘Ah, yes,’ he said, his voice soft and low.
He let go her wrist and lifted his hand to the other strap. Drawing it down her shoulder, slowly peeling down the bodice of her dress.
She couldn’t move. Not a muscle.
Could only stand while Alexis Petrakis bared her breasts.
For his delectation.
For one long, endless moment he just stood there, looking at her.
‘You really are,’ he said, in that same soft, low voice, ‘exquisite.’
Beneath his gaze she felt her breasts prickle, felt them engorge, her nipples harden, tighten.
Felt the tremor deep within her quicken.
She felt her body sway again.
A small sound came from her throat. She did not know what it was. It was inchoate, unconscious.
But reality had stopped. Stopped the moment she had stepped out of the bathroom and set eyes on Alexis Petrakis, stood still while he advanced on her. With one purpose, one purpose only, in his tread.
He smiled now. His mouth curving.
‘Yes,’ he said, his lashes sweeping down over his dark, obsidian eyes. ‘I know.’
He reached a hand to lightly, oh-so-lightly, stroke her hair. She felt a soft, trembling shiver go through her at his touch. The unformed sound came from her throat again.
Her breasts—swollen, taut—had begun to ache. A low, slow throbbing was resonating through her body. Her pupils distended, her body swaying forward yet again.
She wanted…She wanted…
His hand tightened in her hair, cupping her head.
She gazed at him, eyes huge, quite, quite helpless.
Something flared in his eyes—something that was instantly, ruthlessly leashed.
She went to his bed without a word, without a murmur. Only soft, aching moans that he could stop with his mouth. But when his mouth left hers to shape her breasts, to close over her straining, aching nipples, they came again. They came as he trailed his lips along the taut contours of her belly, as
It was his eyes. She could see it in his eyes. See the gold flecks deep within. See the intent in them. The very, very clear intent.
Her lips parted, taking in breath. Instantly she could see his eyes narrow, that edge of tension tauten through him.
She had to move—but she was frozen. Completely frozen.
Waiting.
Helpless.
He stopped in front of her. She could feel his presence, invading hers. Catch the male musk coming from him, overlaid by the spiced notes of expensive aftershave.
He was looking down at her, out of those obsidian night-dark eyes, and she couldn’t move—couldn’t move. Could only gaze, helpless, up at him.
And drink him in. Drink in the sable hair, the lean planes of his face, the strong, straight cut of his nose, the faint masculine shadow along his jaw, roughening his smooth, tanned skin.
Oh, God, she thought. He is just so, so beautiful…
Her hand half lifted. She wanted to reach up, to cup her fingers along his jaw, feel the roughness of his skin, smooth her finger along the high arch of his cheekbones, reach with her mouth to his, feel the touch of it on hers. To slide her fingers into that silky sable hair and draw him to her, parting her lips…
She tried to stop herself.
But she couldn’t. Had no power over herself any more. She felt her body sway—sway towards him. She felt her hand lift, reach up…
He caught it. A swift, sudden movement that stilled her. His fingers closed around her wrist, pulling her towards him with slow, inexorable strength.
She gazed up at him, drowning.
His pupils were like pinpricks, flared with gold.
‘Indulge me,’ he said softly.
Her pupils dilated. She could not help it. Did not know it. Could only stand there, lips parted, wrist caught, her body swaying towards his.
‘Indulge me,’ he said again, more softly.
And then, with his other hand, he slowly, very slowly, slid one long finger underneath the thin strap over her shoulder and gradually, little by little, drew it down over her arm until he had peeled bare her breast.
‘Ah, yes,’ he said, his voice soft and low.
He let go her wrist and lifted his hand to the other strap. Drawing it down her shoulder, slowly peeling down the bodice of her dress.
She couldn’t move. Not a muscle.
Could only stand while Alexis Petrakis bared her breasts.
For his delectation.
For one long, endless moment he just stood there, looking at her.
‘You really are,’ he said, in that same soft, low voice, ‘exquisite.’
Beneath his gaze she felt her breasts prickle, felt them engorge, her nipples harden, tighten.
Felt the tremor deep within her quicken.
She felt her body sway again.
A small sound came from her throat. She did not know what it was. It was inchoate, unconscious.
But reality had stopped. Stopped the moment she had stepped out of the bathroom and set eyes on Alexis Petrakis, stood still while he advanced on her. With one purpose, one purpose only, in his tread.
He smiled now. His mouth curving.
‘Yes,’ he said, his lashes sweeping down over his dark, obsidian eyes. ‘I know.’
He reached a hand to lightly, oh-so-lightly, stroke her hair. She felt a soft, trembling shiver go through her at his touch. The unformed sound came from her throat again.
Her breasts—swollen, taut—had begun to ache. A low, slow throbbing was resonating through her body. Her pupils distended, her body swaying forward yet again.
She wanted…She wanted…
His hand tightened in her hair, cupping her head.
She gazed at him, eyes huge, quite, quite helpless.
Something flared in his eyes—something that was instantly, ruthlessly leashed.
She went to his bed without a word, without a murmur. Only soft, aching moans that he could stop with his mouth. But when his mouth left hers to shape her breasts, to close over her straining, aching nipples, they came again. They came as he trailed his lips along the taut contours of her belly, as
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