What The Greek's Wife Needs - Dani Collins Page 0,33

herself to the madness they conjured.

He made a ragged noise of suffering as he dragged his mouth to nip at her jaw and skate down the side of her neck.

“It’s better than I remembered,” he said hotly. “You taste so damned good.” His mouth came back to bite her earlobe, then suck, sending showering tingles through her. “Stop me.”

She only turned her head to seek his mouth with hers. Damn these covers between them. She writhed, pushing her hip against the blunted shape of him. He closed his legs outside hers, trapping her into a tight line pinned beneath him.

She arched to feel more of him, moaning into his mouth as they played their tongues together. She wanted to touch him, feel him. Strip naked and take him inside her.

He leaned on one elbow and raked the blankets from between them, down to her waist. His free hand swept up to cup her breast, plumping it against the soft cotton of the T-shirt she wore.

“Seriously. Stop me or I’m going to keep going,” he warned in a growl even as he dropped his head and opened his hot mouth over her nipple.

The muted sensation was strong enough she wanted to lift her knees and curl protectively. She couldn’t. She was at his mercy.

The cotton quickly dampened as he lightly bit and sucked at her through the fabric, the attentions sending hot, stabbing sensations into her loins.

At least her arms were free. She roamed her hands greedily across his back, soaking up the heat of his shoulders and biceps through the fabric of his shirt, the hot skin of his neck beneath his collar. She filtered the coarse curls on his head through her fingers and opened her mouth against the soft-rough stubble on his chin.

She wanted to beg him to do filthy things with her. Her body said it for her as she drew him back to kiss her and gave him her tongue.

He blatantly sucked and worked his own against hers, jabbing erotic thrills into her with the flagrant play, drawing more moans from her that echoed against his.

He shifted atop her, allowing her to open her legs beneath the blankets, welcoming his weight between her thighs. He rocked against her as he bit her bottom lip. She lifted her hips into his muted thrusts and clung weakly to him.

“Do you have a—”

Illi began to cry in the other room.

Condom was left unspoken. They were both frozen and pulsating.

Leon swore. He dropped his head into the pillow next to Tanja’s ear, panting as though he’d been at the bottom of the sea and finally made it to the surface.

In the next second, he rolled off her, arm across his face to hide his chiseled features.

She weakly pushed her legs toward the edge of the mattress.

“I’ll get her,” he said in a strained voice. “Just give me a sec.”

She was equally addled but desperate to flee. What had just happened? A cataclysm, obviously, but how? Why? What did it mean?

“I’ll go.” She kicked her way out of the tangled covers and snatched up the robe off the chair. “It’s okay, baby doll,” she murmured as she made her way through to the lounge. “Mommy’s here.”

She was still unsteady on her feet, but she didn’t think it was remnants of her illness. She had nearly succumbed to Leon’s lovemaking, and that was like a near-death experience.

She bent to collect Illi out of the cot and experienced a rush of light-headedness when she came back up.

“I had the chef make a bottle before I put her down for the night,” Leon said from the shadows of the corridor, near the door to the head. “It’s in the fridge behind the bar. If you can manage her by yourself, I’ll shower.”

“Of course. Thank you.”

He walked into the head and firmly closed the door.

CHAPTER FIVE

LEON DISAPPEARED WITHOUT a word after his shower.

Tanja put Illi back down and slept fitfully, waking alone in the stateroom when Illi did. She called down to order Illi’s morning bottle, then sang to her as she changed her.

It was such a beautiful morning that Tanja opened one of the doors to the starboard deck, letting the fresh air stream in. They seemed to be at anchor, sheltered near a wall of stone with patches of greenery growing in the steps and crevices. It was stunning, the reflection nearly perfect in the calm blue water.

“Cythera Island,” Kyle informed her when he delivered Illi’s bottle. “Kýrios Petrakis asked me to relay