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He was alone with his mistress and the first words out of her mouth were not the ones a man ached to hear…
But then, Ivy wasn’t his mistress.
Not yet.
“Damian. Who was—”
He answered by kissing her. She tried to turn her face away but he was persistent. He kept kissing her, nipped gently at her bottom lip and, at last, she made a little sound and opened her mouth to his.
He slipped the tip of his tongue between her parted lips. She jerked back. Then she made that sweet little whisper again and accepted the intimate caress. Accepted and returned it as he carried her through the sitting room, through the bedroom, to his bed.
Pleasure coursed through him.
What had happened in the darkness of the plane had changed everything. Had she realized she couldn’t fight him or herself? That she wanted him as much as he wanted her?
God knew, he wanted her. From the minute she’d turned up at his door, despite everything, his anger, hell, his rage…
No woman had ever stirred such hunger in him.
Gently he lay her down in the silk-covered bed. Moonlight, streaming through the French doors behind it, touched her hair with silver. Her eyes, brighter than the stars, glittered as she looked up at him.
“Ivy,” he said softly. He bent to her. Kissed her temples. Her mouth. Her throat. Whispered in Greek what he would do to her, with her…
What she would feel as he made her his.
“Damian?”
Her whisper was soft. Uncertain. It had an innocence to it that he knew was a lie but it suited the way she was looking at him, the way her hands had come up to press lightly against his chest.
A little game could be exciting, though she excited him enough just as she was. He was almost painfully hard. It would not be easy to go as slowly as he wanted, this first time, but he would try.
Her dress had a row of tiny buttons down the bodice. He undid them slowly, even as her hands caught at his, and he paused to kiss each bit of warm, rosy skin he exposed.
She was breathing fast; the glitter in her eyes had become almost feverish.
“Damian,” she whispered. “Please…”
He kissed her, harder this time, deeper, and she moved against him. Yes God, yes. Like that. Just like that…
Her bra opened in the front. He sent up a silent prayer of thanks as he undid the clasp, let the silk cups fall open…
And groaned.
She was exquisite.
She had small, perfect breasts crowned by pale pink nipples. It had almost driven him insane, touching them that one time…
“Damian! Stop.”
She was moving against him again. It was too much. If she kept lifting herself to him this way, he would—
“Stop!”
He didn’t hear her. Or yes, he heard her voice but her words had no meaning as he drew one nipple deep into his mouth—
Something slammed into his chest. He jerked back. It was Ivy’s fist; even as he watched, she swung at him again. Stunned, he grabbed her wrists.
“What the hell are you doing?”
