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.

mistaking the feeling behind them. ‘But we both know the

stood there, unable to deny what he’d said, too full of the heavy, pulsating thickness swirling

want to see me for?’ he asked,

to unfog itself, she followed him to the door but stopped

fell to ruins when he emerged back in view,

a pair of grey trousers on. Looking at her, he slipped his

mouth and cleared her throat. ‘I just

‘Everyone has accepted.’

‘Apart from Rocco?’

nodded, his mouth

deftly did the buttons of his shirt

you should reconsider inviting

react, other than a

doesn’t feel right, us marrying without

invited your father,’ he

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