The Greek's Pregnant Bride

She swallowed. Was he suggesting what she thought he was...?

His lips brushed against her earlobe. ‘Until we are legally married I will have to satisfy myself with memories of our night together in Milan.’

Her skin fizzed beneath the warmth of his breath while heat such as she had never experienced surged through her, settling in the V of her thighs. He stepped closer still and placed a hand on her thigh, close enough that she could feel his erection jut through the cotton of his towel and press against her belly.

She tilted her head back and gazed into his eyes. It was there, that desire: stark, open, unashamed.

What would he do if she were to loop her arms around his neck and kiss him? If she were to clasp his towel and yank it off him...?

He must have read her mind for his lips brushed against her ear again. ‘Anticipation makes fulfilment taste so much sweeter.’

She pulled away. ‘Do you know that from experience?’

A strange look came into his eyes, a half-smile tugging on his lips. ‘Only in a professional sense. I look forward to finding out if it’s as sweet when it comes to us making love again.’

‘I thought you said it would depend on whether I wanted anything to happen,’ she said, her voice hoarse.

his eyes glittered, no mistaking the feeling behind them. ‘But we both know the

what he’d said, too full of the heavy, pulsating thickness swirling

what did you want to see

she followed him to the door but stopped at

to compose herself, but that very composure almost fell to ruins when he emerged back in view, now wearing a pair of black boxer shorts that only enhanced

later with a pair of grey trousers on. Looking

her mouth and cleared her throat.

‘Everyone has accepted.’

‘Apart from Rocco?’

his mouth

as he deftly did

think you should reconsider inviting

didn’t react, other than a slight

right, us marrying without you having any family

haven’t invited your father,’ he

likes to pretend I don’t exist. She’s your mum—wouldn’t she