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.’

to whisk her away to somewhere private when Zayed joined them, announcing his presence by slapping

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

hadn’t sat well with her, knowing he would have no one

fuzzy inside, thinking they had gone behind each other’s back

of a scarf that had been thrust at them. With traditional Greek music playing, Zayed and Stefan chivvied everyone up to form a circle around

over, everyone, including the bride and groom, stayed on the dance floor. They danced together, slow songs,

feelings it evoked in her to last forever, to hold on to this moment for as long as she could. Contrarily, she wanted it to

Soon...

newly married life in a manner

* * *

door of the suite and, keeping hold of Alessandra’s hand, closed

neck. At long last, he was free to touch her and taste her and do all the

their celebrations had been going on—had been decorated. Flowers were artfully arranged in vases, rose petals had been scattered over the bed and a bottle of champagne sat

said, twisting round