soul. The night he’d first kissed her in Brooklyn, the night he’d taken her virginity, all the nights after.
But this kiss was even better.
Because now, Daisy knew who he was. She’d kissed him first. She knew the worst of him, but still wanted him.
Except she didn’t know the worst. He sucked in his breath. And she must never know...
No. He must not think of it. Not now. Not ever.
He deepened the kiss, until it became rough, almost savage in his need to obliterate all else. Daisy’s embrace was passionate and pure, like the woman herself. Being in her arms was the only thing that made him forget...
All thought, all reason, fled his mind as her lips seared his. Part of him almost expected she’d stop him, pull back, tell him she was too good for him—and how could he deny the truth of that?
But she did not pull away. Instead, her lips strained against his, matching his fire. The whole world seemed to whirl around him as he held her, facing each other on the bed. He kissed slowly down her throat.
“Sweet,” he groaned against her skin. “So sweet.”
Her hands reached for the buttons of his white shirt. When they wouldn’t easily open, she reached beneath the fabric in her impatience, and stroked his bare chest. Sitting up, he ripped the shirt off his body, causing the final buttons to scatter noisily across the marble floor, along with his platinum cufflinks.
Turning back to her, he unzipped the back of her red gown and gently pulled it down her body, revealing her white strapless bra, barely containing her overflowing breasts, and then her full, pregnant belly, her white lace panties clinging to her hips.
He tossed the ball gown to the floor. He almost could not bear to look at her, she was so beautiful, looking up at him in the tiny white lingerie that revealed her explosive curves, her brown hair glossy and coiled over the pillows, her green eyes dark with desire.
“Kiss me,” she whispered.
A low groan escaped him, and he obeyed. He turned her to face him, kissing her for moments, or maybe for hours. Time seemed to stretch and compress as he was lost in her embrace. He kissed down her throat to the edge of the white satin bra. Reaching around her back, he loosened the clasp, and the fabric fell away. He looked at her breasts, so deliciously full, and holding his breath, he reached out to cup them with his hands.
Her lips parted and her eyes closed, her expression lost in pleasure. He stroked her full nipples, causing them to pebble beneath his touch. Lowering his head, he pulled one into his mouth, swirling it with his tongue, suckling her.
Her hands gripped the white duvet, as if she felt herself flying into the sky. He tenderly kissed around the curve of her full, pregnant belly. Moving back up, he kissed her lips long and lingeringly, before he finally drew back.
Cupping her cheek, he looked down at her with sudden urgency in the darkness of the bedroom, with the twinkling lights of Manhattan slanted across the marble floor like trails of diamonds.
“Marry me,” he whispered. “Marry me, Daisy.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
MARRY HIM?
Daisy’s eyes flew open. She was naked, melting beneath his touch. She wanted him; oh, how she wanted him.
But marry him?
“I...” She shivered as Leonidas slowly stroked his warm hand down her cheek to her throat and the crevice between her breasts. Every part of her ached for his touch. Not just her body. Her heart.
Looking at him in the shadowy bedroom, she’d suddenly seen the man she’d loved last fall. Leo. Her Leo. Her lover, with whom she’d spent so many days laughing, talking, kissing in the sunlight, holding hands beneath the autumn leaves. He hadn’t taken her virginity. She’d given it to him. Her Leo.
But could she surrender everything? Could she ever forgive herself if she did? What kind of woman would she be?
“I can’t marry you,” she whispered.
“You know me.” His hands stroked softly down her body. Closing his eyes, he rested his head in the valley between her breasts. Surprised, she looked down and placed her hands gently against his dark hair. “I want to be with you. Always.”
That couldn’t be tears in his eyes. No, impossible. Leonidas Niarxos was ruthless. He had no heart. He himself had said so.
And yet, somehow Leonidas had become her Leo again. His eyes were like pools of darkness glittering with stars, as deep and unfathomable as