Wed For His Secret Heir

She didn’t want to step out of the fantasy and question what she was doing. The new, bold Ava tilted her head to one side and sent him a lingering look from beneath the sweep of her lashes. ‘What are you waiting for?’ she murmured.

He laughed—a low, husky sound that caused the tiny hairs on her skin to stand on end. Every cell of her body was acutely aware of him and the promise in his glittering dark eyes sent a shiver of excitement through her.

Without saying another word, he led her by the hand into the bedroom. Ava was vaguely aware of the sophisticated décor and the lamps dimmed so that they emitted a soft golden glow. In the centre of the room was an enormous bed. Someone—presumably the chambermaid—had earlier turned back the bedspread and Ava’s heart skipped a beat when she saw black silk sheets.

The four-poster bed had been designed for seduction, for passion, and it occurred to her that Giannis would surely not have intended to spend the night alone. Perhaps he regularly picked up women for sex. The slightly unsettling thought quickly faded from her mind and anticipation prickled across her skin when he shrugged off his shirt and deftly removed his shoes and socks before he unzipped his trousers and stepped out of them.

He was magnificent—lean-hipped and with a powerfully muscular chest and impressive six-pack. In the lamplight his skin gleamed like polished bronze, his chest and thighs overlaid with black hairs. Her gaze dropped lower to his tight black boxer shorts which could not conceal his arousal, and the growl he gave as she stared at him evoked a primitive need to feel him inside her.

‘Take off your bra,’ he ordered.

Her stomach flipped. She would have preferred him to undress her, and on some level her brain recognised that he was giving her the opportunity to change her mind. He wasn’t going to force her to do anything she did not want to do. She roamed her eyes over his gorgeous body and desire rolled through her. Slowly she reached behind her back and unclipped her bra, letting the cups fall away from her breasts.

Giannis swallowed audibly. ‘Beautiful.’ His voice was oddly harsh, as if he was struggling to keep himself under control. He shook his head when she put her hands on the lacy tops of her hold-up stockings and prepared to roll them down her legs. ‘Leave them on,’ he growled. ‘And your shoes.’ He closed the gap between them in one stride and pulled her into his arms so that her bare breasts pressed against his naked chest. Ava felt a shudder run through him. ‘Se thélo,’ he muttered.

She knew the Greek words meant I want you and she was left in no doubt when he circled his hips against hers and she felt the solid ridge of his arousal straining beneath his boxers. Driven beyond reason by a hunger she had never felt before, had never believed she was capable of feeling, she slipped her hand into the waistband of his boxers and curled her hand around him.

‘Witch.’ He pulled off his boxer shorts and kicked them away. Ava felt a momentary doubt when she saw how hugely aroused he was. But then he scooped her up and laid her down on the bed, and the feel of his hard, male, totally naked body pressing down on her blew away the last of her inhibitions. She trapped his face between her hands and tugged his mouth down to hers, arching against him when he claimed her lips in a devastating kiss.

It was wild and hot, passion swiftly spiralling out of control and shooting her beyond the stratosphere to a place she had never been before, where there was only the sensation of his warm skin pressed against hers and his seeking hands exploring her body and finding her pleasure spots with unerring precision.

‘Oh.’ She gave a thin cry when Giannis bent his head to her breast and flicked his tongue back and forth across its distended peak.

‘Do you like that?’ His voice was indulgent as if he knew how much she liked what he was doing to her, but Ava was too spellbound by him to worry about his arrogance. She sighed with pleasure when he drew her nipple into his mouth and sucked hard so that she almost climaxed right then. He transferred his attention to her other breast and she dug her fingers into his buttocks, feeling the awesome length of his erection pushing between her legs. There was no thought in her head to deny him, when to do so would deny her the orgasm that she could already sense building deep in her pelvis.

Somehow he untangled their limbs and shifted across the mattress. Frantically she grabbed hold of him and he laughed softly. Ignoring her hands tugging at him, he reached for his wallet on the bedside table and took out a condom. ‘You are eager, aren’t you?’ he murmured. ‘Here—’ he put the condom into her hand ‘—you put it on for me.’

Ava fumbled with the foil packet, not wanting to admit that she had never opened a condom before. Craig had always prepared himself for sex, and when they had made love it had been over quickly, leaving her dissatisfied and convinced that the problem lay with her.

Finally she managed to tear the foil with her fingernail and then unrolled the condom down his length.

‘Theos, you’re going to kill me.’ His chest heaved when she finally completed her task. He pushed aside her flimsy black silk thong and stroked his fingers over her silken flesh, parting her so that he could slide one finger inside her.

It felt amazing but it wasn’t enough—not nearly enough. Ava could hear her panting breaths as she lifted her hips towards his hand, needing more, needing him... ‘Please...’

‘I know,’ he growled. She heard a ripping sound as he tore her thong, and then he simply took her with a hard, deep thrust that expelled the breath from her lungs in a shocked gasp.

He stilled and stared down at her, his shoulder muscles bunching as he supported himself on his hands. The lamplight cast shadows over his face, emphasising the angles and planes of his chiselled features. A beautiful stranger who had claimed her body. ‘Did I hurt you?’ The concern in his voice touched her heart.

‘No...’ She clutched his shoulders as she felt him start to withdraw. The shock of his penetration was receding and her internal muscles stretched so that she could take him deeper inside her, filling her, fulfilling her most secret fantasies when he began to move.

He must have sensed that he needed to slow the pace and at first he was almost gentle as he circled his hips against hers and kissed her breasts and throat, making his way up to her mouth to push his tongue between her lips while he drove deep inside her.

She arched her hips to meet each stroke, unaware of the frantic cries she made as he established a powerful rhythm. He thrust deeper, harder, taking her higher until she clawed her nails down his back, desperate to reach a place that she had never managed to reach before, except when she pleasured herself.

He laughed softly. ‘Relax, and it’ll happen.’

‘It won’t. I can’t...’ Ava gave a sob of frustration. There must be something wrong with her that made it impossible for her to reach an orgasm during sex.

She felt Giannis slip his hand between their joined bodies and then he did something magical with his fingers, while he continued his rhythmic thrusts, faster, faster...

It felt so good. The way he expertly moved his hand, as if he knew exactly how to give her the utmost pleasure. It felt unbelievably good and the pressure inside her was building, building to a crescendo. Suddenly she was there, suspended for timeless seconds on the edge of ecstasy before the wave crashed over her and swept her up in a maelstrom of intense pleasure that went on and on, pulsing, pounding through her, tearing a low cry from her throat.

Even when the ripples of her orgasm started to fade, he continued to move inside her with an urgency that took her breath away. He gripped her hips and reared over her, his head thrown back so that the cords on his neck stood out. Incredibly, Ava climaxed for a second time, swift and sharp, as Giannis gave a final thrust and emitted a savage groan as he pressed his face into her neck while great shudders racked his body.

In the afterglow, a sense of peace enfolded her and she lay quite still, not wanting him to move away, not ready to face the reality of what had just happened. Gradually the thunderous beat of his heart slowed. She loved the feel of his big, strong body lying lax on top of her and of his arms around her, holding her close. Her limbs felt heavy and the lingering ripples of her orgasm triggered delicious tingles deep in her pelvis.

So that was what poets wrote sonnets about, she thought, smiling to herself. There wasn’t something wrong with her, as Craig had suggested. Sex with Giannis had been mind-blowing and had proved that her body was capable of experiencing the most intense passion. From Giannis’s reaction he had enjoyed having sex with her. She wasn’t frigid. She was a responsive, sexually confident woman.

He lifted his head at last and looked down at her, his dark eyes unfathomable, making Ava realise once again that even though they had just shared the most intimate act that two people could experience, she did not know him. Oh, she’d gleaned a few facts about him on the Internet. Mainly about his business success or which model or actress he’d dated, although there was actually very little information about him. She knew nothing about the real Giannis Gekas—his family, his interests, even mundane things such as what kind of food he liked. There was an endless list of unknowns—all the tiny snippets of information that people at the beginning of a conventional relationship would find out about each other.

All she knew was that they had been drawn together by a combustible sexual chemistry, and when she became aware of him hardening once more while he was still buried deep inside her, nothing else mattered.

‘You are irresistible, omorfiá mou,’ he murmured. ‘I want you again.’

Excitement coiled through her and she wrapped her legs around his back to draw him deeper inside her. He groaned. ‘You would tempt a saint. But first I need to change the condom. Don’t go away.’ He dropped a brief but utterly sensual kiss on her mouth—a promise of further delights to follow—before he lifted himself off her and strode into the bathroom.

Ava watched him, her gaze clinging to his broad shoulders before sliding lower to the taut curves of his buttocks, and molten heat pooled between her thighs. Everything about tonight felt unreal, as if she was in the middle of an erotic dream that she did not want to end.

CHAPTER THREE (#ufec4b4d9-c540-52f1-a6b2-6cf5589fb480)

GIANNIS STEPPED OUT of the shower cubicle and blotted the moisture from his skin before he knotted a towel around his hips and walked into the bedroom. He glanced at the bed and saw that Ava was still fast asleep. Her honey-blonde hair spilled across the black silk pillows and her hand was tucked under her cheek. She looked young and unexpectedly innocent but looks were deceptive and there had been no hint of the ingénue about her last night.

The memory of her standing in front of him in stiletto heels, sheer black stockings and a minuscule pair of knickers had a predictable effect on his body, and he was tempted to whip off his towel and wake her for morning sex. But there wasn’t time, and he felt no more than a fleeting regret as he turned away from the bed, striding over to the wardrobe to select a shirt to wear with his suit. While he dressed, he thought about his schedule for the day.

He had meetings in Paris in the afternoon and a social function to attend in the evening. But first he planned to drive to his house in Hertfordshire that he had recently purchased, to inspect the renovations that had been completed and pay the workmen a bonus. It would be useful to have a permanent base in the UK, but another reason he had bought Milton Grange was because the grounds included a particularly fine garden. Giannis hoped that his mother might like to visit the house in the summer, and perhaps tending to the roses would lift her spirits, which had been low lately. Although there was nothing new about that, he thought heavily.

He had spent most of his adult life trying to make his mother happy. His conscience insisted that caring for her was a small penance and could never atone for his terrible lapse of judgement that had resulted in the death of his father. He despised himself even more because he found his mother difficult. Even his sister had suggested that their mitera’srelentless misery was intended to make him feel guilty.

Giannis sighed as his thoughts switched from his mother to another thorn in his side. Ever since Stefanos Markou had announced that he intended to sell Markou Shipping and retire from business, Giannis had tried to persuade the old man to sell his ships to him. The Markou fleet of six small cargo ships would be an ideal addition to The Gekas Experience.

TGE already operated ten vessels offering luxurious cruises around the Mediterranean and the Caribbean. River cruising was becoming increasingly popular and Giannis wanted to expand the company and make TGE the world leader in this emerging tourist market. The Markou fleet of ships would need major refurbishments to turn them into high-end luxury river cruisers, but it was cheaper to upgrade existing ships than to commission a new fleet of vessels.

To Giannis’s intense frustration, Stefanos had rejected his very generous financial offer. That was to say—Stefanos had not actually turned him down but he kept adding new conditions before he would sell. Giannis had already agreed to employ the entire Markou Shipping workforce and retrain the staff so that they could work on his cruise ships. Far more problematic was Stefanos’s insistence that he wanted to sell his company to a married man.

‘Markou Shipping’s ethos is family first,’ Stefanos had told Giannis. ‘Many of the current staff are second or even third generation employees and they share the company’s values of loyalty and propriety. How do you think they would feel if I sold the company to you—a notorious playboy who regards women only as pleasurable diversions? But if you were to choose a wife and settle down it would show that you believe in the high ideals which my great-grandfather, who started Markou Shipping one hundred years ago, held dear.’

Giannis had no desire to marry, but a rival potential buyer had shown interest in purchasing the Markou fleet of vessels. Norwegian businessman Anders Tromska was married and the father of two children. Stefanos approved of Tromska for being a dedicated family man who had never been involved in any kind of scandal or photographed by the paparazzi with a different blonde on his arm every week.

Giannis was prepared to increase his financial offer for the fleet of ships. But for once he had discovered that money could not solve a problem. It seemed that the only way he might persuade Stefanos to sell to him was if he magically conjured himself a wife.

He slipped his arms into his jacket and pushed the Markou problem to the back of his mind for now, turning his thoughts instead to a happier situation. His beloved Nerissa—a classic motor yacht which had been his father’s first boat—had been repaired and restored after it had been vandalised.

Giannis had kept the boat moored at St Katharine Dock and he stayed on it whenever he visited London. He had been furious when he’d heard that a gang of youths had boarded the boat one night and held a party. A fire had somehow started in the main cabin and quickly ripped through the boat. It turned out that a cleaner who worked for the valeting company employed to maintain the boat had stolen the keys and taken his thuggish friends aboard Nerissa. The gang had escaped before the police arrived, apart from the cleaner, who had been arrested and charged with criminal damage.

The manager of the boat valeting company had been deeply apologetic. ‘The youth who took the keys to your boat has a police record for various petty crimes. His social worker persuaded me to give him a job. To be honest he seemed like a nice lad, and his sister who accompanied him to his interview was anxious for me to give him a chance. But they say that bad blood will out in the end,’ the manager had said sagely.

In Giannis’s opinion, the cleaner who he held responsible for wrecking his boat deserved to be locked up in jail and the keys thrown away. Nerissa was special to him and he had wonderful memories of idyllic days spent on her with his father. Now that the boat had been repaired he had arranged for her to be taken back to Greece, to his home on the island of Spetses.