The Power of the Legendary Greek - By Catherine George Page 0,45

his sculpted cheekbones.

‘I refuse to just stand here while you look at me.’

‘Why not?’

His eyes flared. ‘Because my body is betraying me!’

‘So I see,’ said Isobel, suddenly reckless as she took her nightgown over her head and pulled the covers back for him.

Luke slid in beside her and with a groan of pleasure held her close, his hands smoothing down her back to mould every curve and hollow of her body to his. ‘I have dreamed of this,’ he said into the angle where her neck met her shoulder.

Isobel sighed and wriggled closer, delighting in the tremor she felt run through him. ‘I refused to let myself dream of it.’

‘Because you did not want to make love with me?’

‘No, because I did.’

He growled in triumph and kissed her fiercely. His lips were warm and skilled and now they were naked together the first touch of them on hers sent her so dizzy with delight she surged against him. And with her breasts crushed against his chest she found his heart was pounding in unison with hers as his kisses sent her blood rushing through her veins, and her body turned into one entire erogenous zone.

He raised his head and smiled in triumphant possession. ‘You are so lovely, Isobel. It is impossible to believe, now, that I was angry with you that first day on the beach.’

‘You frightened the life out of me.’

He tensed. ‘Are you frightened now?’

‘No.’ She moved closer. ‘Make love to me, Luke. Make me glad to be alive!’

He obeyed with such fervour Isobel’s pulse raced as the heat from his kisses ran through her like a jolt of electricity. She pressed closer, glorying in the feel of his skin against hers until he moved her away a fraction so that his lips could move down her throat in a string of soft, sweet kisses, and her breasts grew taut in anticipation as she felt the heat of his breath on her skin. He made love to each breast in turn with lips and tongue and gently grazing teeth, his caresses flooding her with hot, liquid arousal as her body filled with an urgency so new and overwhelming she shook with the force of it.

Luke stiffened. ‘Do not tremble. I will stop if you wish.’

‘I don’t wish. Go on—please!’ She gloried in his renewed caresses, making a little relishing sound deep in her throat as his hands moved lower to stroke the satiny curve below her waist. But she gasped as his fingers aroused turbulence with the most intimate caress of all, his mouth devouring hers with a kiss so possessive and overwhelming her blood seemed to turn to steam. He looked deep into her eyes, asking a question she answered with such an impatient little nod he smiled in triumph and surged inside her, filling her to such capacity Isobel’s heart lurched with the shock of it. For a long, throbbing moment they lay utterly still, then her inner muscles clenched around him in fierce invitation and he took her with him on a surging, accelerating climb towards some fiery, longed for peak he reached at last before her, then held her tightly until her body arched against him, convulsed in throbbing waves of release.

Luke stayed still for a long, silent interval while their hearts slowed, pinning her to the bed with his weight. At last he rolled over onto his back, drawing her close against him as he smoothed the damp curls away from her forehead. ‘Look at me, Isobel.’

Reluctantly, she opened heavy eyes to meet the possessive black gaze.

‘Did I hurt you, hriso mou?’ he asked softly.

‘No.’ Isobel heaved in a deep, unsteady breath. ‘But you surprised me.’

‘Surprised?’ He frowned. ‘Why?’

‘After the episode with Gavin, I was sure I’d never want to make love again, ever.’ Isobel met his eyes squarely. ‘But with you it was as if we were climbing together, and I’d die if I didn’t reach the summit.’

His eyes glittered in triumph. ‘But you did reach it, glykia mou, ne?’

‘Not only reached it, I soared off it in free fall!’

Luke threw back his head and laughed in unashamed male satisfaction. ‘It is so good for a man to hear that.’

Isobel smiled wryly. ‘You sounded very Greek just then.’

He nodded with sudden arrogance. ‘Because that is what I am, and proud of it. And you are an English rose, Isobel, and so beautiful and intelligent I find it hard to believe no man has wanted to marry you.’

‘One did a couple of years