The Greek's Pregnant Bride

She shrugged. ‘They’re tenacious. It was to be expected.’

‘They’re like locusts.’ He laid his palms on the table, his face stark with anger.

Not wanting all the good feeling ruined, she raised a hand to his face and palmed his cheek. ‘Thank you.’

The blue in his eyes darkened, his frame stilling. ‘For what?’

‘For trying to keep them away from me.’

His nostrils flared a touch. He didn’t answer, simply stared at her as if trying to peer into her mind.

She gazed back, drinking him in, the heat inside her—so constant when with him—bubbling beneath her...

And then he dipped his head and covered her mouth with his, holding it there, not moving, just breathing into her, warm champagne-scented air filling her senses until he gently slid his mouth across her cheek and brushed his lips against her ear. ‘Soon, agapi mou, I will do more than just kiss you.’

she was about to grab his hand and beg him to whisk her

the traditional wedding dance adored by all Greeks. Over his shoulder, Mikolaj and Tanya grinned and waved, already tapping

was so glad she’d gone behind his back and invited them. It hadn’t sat well with her, knowing he would have no one from

her feel all warm and fuzzy inside, thinking they had gone behind

the centre of the dance floor, each holding an end of a scarf that had been thrust at them. With traditional Greek music playing, Zayed and Stefan chivvied everyone

bride and groom, stayed on the dance floor. They danced together, slow songs, fast songs, their hands entwined, their eyes only

for as long as

Soon...

married life in a manner that sent heat surging through her just to think

* * *

door of the suite and, keeping hold

was free to touch her and taste her and do all the things he’d wanted to do for

artfully arranged in vases, rose petals had been scattered over the bed and a

she said, twisting round to face