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.

behind them. ‘But we both know the anticipation is

to deny what he’d said, too full of the heavy, pulsating thickness swirling through the very fabric of her to think

did you want to see me

she followed him to the door but stopped at her

moment to compose herself, but that very composure almost fell to ruins when he emerged back in

again, re-emerging moments later with a pair of grey trousers on. Looking at her, he slipped his arms

mouth and cleared her

‘Everyone has accepted.’

‘Apart from Rocco?’

nodded, his mouth

watched as he deftly did

should reconsider inviting your mother,’ she

other than a slight narrowing of

marrying without you

haven’t invited your father,’ he

alcoholic who likes to pretend I don’t exist. She’s your