The Greek's Pregnant Bride

Alessandra had been the first woman he’d woken next to and felt a tug of reluctance at having to leave.

He couldn’t remember ever feeling so greedy for someone as he had that night, when he’d wanted her so badly it had been as if he were consuming her. If he hadn’t been concerned that she might be feeling the physical soreness he assumed women must feel after losing their virginity, he would have made love to her all night long.

Her eyes didn’t waver although more colour crept over her face. ‘When you say you want it to be seen as legal in every respect, are you implying that we need to have sex?’

‘No.’ His voice dropped, heat unfurling within him as a memory of a dusky pink nipple floated into his mind. A small gust of wind fluttered across them, causing a strand of her hair to stray across her face. Unthinking, he reached out to brush it away. ‘But we will be married—what couples choose to do in the privacy of their own home is entirely their own business.’

Her throat moved, a subtle movement, but one he recognised.

He leaned in closer. ‘When we stay anywhere that is not under one of our own roofs, we will share a bed. What we choose to do in that bed is nobody’s business but our own.’

Their marriage would be a merger, yes, but not a business merger. This was going to be a merger of two flesh-and-blood people.

her eyes and he knew with certainty that she was

They had been combustible.

the supressed memories of that night came back in

to please and be pleased, to touch and be

had been

cleared her throat. ‘And if I choose to

would probably

inching his face closer to

you lie in bed with?’ Her words had a breathless quality to

you’re the sexiest woman I’ve ever known and I get hard every time I think

lips part and her doe eyes

of my sex life is less than flattering,’ he said, thinking that she turned the most beautiful colour when she blushed. ‘But, I assure you, I think with the head on my shoulders and not the one in my boxer