The minx.

He was already hard, but the pressure grew more urgent as her soft touches on his scrotum continued. “You’re on dangerous ground there, pethi mou.”

“Am I?” She was no longer sitting on him, but her knees were still on either side of his.

He took that as an invitation and flipped onto his back, his breath expelling in a hard gust at the sight of her naked body above him. “You are so damn beautiful.”

“You’re prejudiced.”

“You think so, glyka mou? I think you could have made millions as a model.”

She smiled and shook her head. “Did you just call me sweet?”

“My sweet. You’re learning Greek.”

“Just that one.”

if their sex wasn’t based in some foolish romantic commitment, he was a possessive guy. It was just the way he was made and sometimes, the words yineka mou slipped out. She was his, for now. Maybe

him. He gave her his best

went dark with passion as he’d known it would. “Do we have

on a tight schedule, even if she wanted to visit more museums

more convincing, but moved into position above

between clenched teeth as

and he stayed her with a hand between her perfectly shaped breasts. “Neither of us has been with anyone else in almost two

she’d tested every six months for a couple of years after finding out Art was such a damn tomcat and wasn’t surprised

patch for birth control, so they didn’t need to worry about making

out, lowering her body so his hard length slid inside her

surge upward with every ounce of selfcontrol he had earned in his thirty-five years of life. She rewarded his restraint by dropping down and engulfing

inner muscles clenched at him in undeniable need. They moved together like animals mating and yet, not. Their supreme awareness of each other could be no less than human. Their gazes locked and never broke once during

sensation of their bare skin moving together threw him into a convulsive climax, but he didn’t have to worry. She was right there

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