Page 157

Rose had never been naked in front of anyone before, and for a second, no more, she had the urge to shield herself. But then she saw the heat in Christos’s eyes, and she stared back proudly as he started to undo the studs of his tuxedo shirt.

“You really are the most beautiful woman,” he told her in a low voice that was ragged with want. “And you don’t know how long I’ve dreamed of doing this.”

With his shirt undone, so Rose could glimpse a narrow vee of burnished skin and sculpted muscle, he reached out and, one by one, took the diamond-tipped pins from her hair, tossing them aside so they fell onto the bureau with tiny clatters. When he’d removed the last one, she shook her hair out, knowing it was what he wanted, reveling in the sensuousness of it as it tumbled all the way to her waist. A shimmy of her hips had the dress slithering down to her ankles. She was naked save for a sliver of thong and all her hair, which she suspected was what Christos had wanted.

“My ridiculous hair,” she murmured. With a soft laugh, he wrapped a thick tendril around his wrist, pulling her gently to him before his mouth settled on hers in a way that was hungry and demanding yet no less sweet, and made excitement leap like a drug in Rose’s veins. She pressed her hands to his chest, pushing aside his shirt, reveling in the feel of his warm, muscled skin beneath her seeking palms, and even more so, the groan that was pulled from Christos’s lips as she touched him.

Somehow they kicked away the rest of their clothes. Christos guided her to the bed, stretching out beside her in all his magnificent manhood, his body long and lean and perfectly muscled, the moonbeams turning his olive skin to silver, gleaming in its lambent light.

He ran his hand down the length of her naked body, from shoulder to hip, then slid it up again to cup her breast before resting it on the soft swell of her bump, his fingers spread wide. Rose lay her hand on top of his, holding it there, wanting to imbue him with the certainty that this was his child as much as hers now, that their love made it so.

He smiled faintly, as if acknowledging something she’d said out loud. Then he kissed her, deep and slow, before moving his mouth lower. Rose’s eyes fluttered closed as Christos began his very thorough seduction, exploring every last bit of her body—from the sensitive curve of her neck to the aching peaks of her breasts, then the dip of her waist, the swell of her bump, his lips tasting and lingering in each place. He moved down further still, till a squeak of surprise escaped her as he settled his mouth firmly between her thighs.

Her legs fell open instinctively to give him greater access, her squeak becoming a moan as her hips arched against his mouth, her fingers driving into his hair, every sense and sinew straining to reach that sparkling apex of pleasure. She raked her nails along his back, pleasure spiraling up inside her, higher and higher, tighter and tighter, until with a cry that burst from her lips, she fell apart into a thousand glittering pieces.

* * *

A primal satisfaction settled over him along with the raging need as Christos felt Rose fall apart under his mouth and hands. Her breath came in ragged gasp as he positioned himself over her, smiling tenderly down at her flushed face as she blinked up at him dazedly.

“Are you ready?” he asked, and she let out a hoarse laugh, her face still flushed, her body loose-limbed in the aftereffects of her pleasure.

“Ready…”

He started to slide inside her, slowly at first, his body pulsing with the need to start moving, but wanting to make sure she really was ready…and she was.

Her legs came around his waist as she arched up to meet his gentle strokes. As he increased the pace, she matched him, stroke for stroke, thrust for thrust, his face buried in her neck as she let out a shattered cry and he finally came, exploding inside her with a ferocity that shook both their bodies and united them in ways Christos hadn’t even been able to imagine.

He held her to him as he rolled onto his back, his heart thundering against hers, the only sound the uneven draw and tear of their mingled breathing.

“Wow,” Rose finally said at last, and he laughed, a ragged sound.

“Yes,” he agreed, still holding her to him. “Wow.”

“Is it always like that?” Rose asked, sounding curious, and Christos laughed again.

“In my experience, not always,” he told her. “But maybe between us, it will be.” He hesitated, wanting to say more, the words that had been heavy on his heart now tangled on his tongue. I love you.

He’d told her they were just words, no more than a flimsy fairy-tale feeling, but right now they felt both incredibly important and impossible to say. He didn’t even know why; he suspected or at least hoped Rose felt the same, and yet admitting his own need for her, and far more alarmingly, trusting that her need would be met in him…it felt like far too big a revelation, too big a risk.

He thought of his father’s disappointment, Tiana turning away, the way he’d let down Luca…and he found he couldn’t say anything at all. But maybe he didn’t need to, because his body had said it for him.

And his body would say it again, he decided as he rolled Rose onto her back to smile down at her. She looked achingly lovely, her hair spread in golden tangles across the pillows, her face flushed and her eyes bright. “Recovered?” he asked, brushing a kiss across her mouth.

“Are you?” she tossed back, a wicked gleam entering her eye. “Because you may have successfully seduced me, but now it’s my turn to seduce you.”

She pushed him back over, and with a laugh Christos went, stretching out on the bed as Rose knelt above him.

“I like the sound of that,” he told her, and then as she straddled his thighs, he didn’t speak for a long while after that.

* * *

Dawn light was filtering through the curtains when Christos finally stirred, Rose still fast asleep, her hair spread over both their pillows. Christos smiled at the sight of it, and then rose naked from the bed, throwing on a robe before he went to make coffee. He felt supremely satisfied, and happier than he could ever remember being.

Last night, after they’d made love, Rose had slept in his arms, nestled there as if she’d always fit, always belonged, her body curving into his in a way that felt completely natural and right. Christos couldn’t remember the last time he’d slept so well.

He grabbed his phone from the living room and started to scroll through emails as he waited for the kettle to boil. He was already imagining bringing Rose a cup of coffee in bed, and then both of them letting it go cold as they reacquainted themselves with the pleasures of last night.

His thumb stilled on his phone screen as he saw the email from Manhattan Cryobank. They hadn’t been in touch since they’d first given him Rose’s information. He really hoped there wasn’t going to be a problem now.