At His Revenge: Sold to the Enemy / Bartering Her Innocence / Innocent of His Claim

‘You’re too modest.’ Her eyes drifted from his shoulders to his mouth. ‘People are so wrong about you.’

‘You are far too trusting. What if they’re right?’

Apparently undaunted by that suggestion, she closed her other hand round his lapel and pulled him towards her. ‘Do you know what I think? I think you’ve created this bad-boy image to keep people—women especially—at a distance. I think you’re afraid of intimacy.’

Stefan felt darkness press in on him.

She’d found the one tiny chink in his armour and thrust her sword into it.

How? How had she done that? Was it a lucky guess?

It had to be a lucky guess. She didn’t know anything about his past. No one did.

‘I’m not afraid of intimacy and later I’m going to prove that to you, so don’t drink any more or you’ll fall asleep before we reach the interesting part of the evening.’ Ignoring her puzzled expression, he guided her towards the door.

‘I’ve upset you. Did I say something wrong?’

‘What makes you think you’ve upset me?’

‘Because your voice changed.’

Stefan, who prided himself on being inscrutable, started to sweat. Did she pick up on everything? ‘You haven’t upset me but I have guests, and I’ve already kept them waiting long enough. Are you ready?’

‘Yes. Although I’m bracing myself to be hated.’

‘Why would you be hated?’

‘Because I’m with the hottest guy on the planet. All the women are going to hate me, but don’t worry about it. When you’re Stavros Antaxos’s daughter you get used to not having friends.’

Her tone was light but he instantly thought of the night on the boat, when she’d found a hidden corner to sit, away from all the other guests. She’d worn her loneliness with a brave smile but she’d been almost pathetically grateful when he’d sat down and talked to her.

‘Friendship is idealised and overrated. If someone wants to be friends with you, it’s usually because they want something.’

‘I don’t believe that.’

‘You mean you don’t want to believe it. You are hopelessly idealistic.’ He held the door open for her and the brightness of her expression dimmed slightly.

‘So you’re saying that true friendship is impossible?’

‘I’m saying that the temptation of money is too strong for most people. It changes things.’ The scar inside him ached, reminding him of the truth of that. ‘Just something to bear in mind for the future if you don’t want to be hurt.’

‘Is that what you do? Do you live your life protecting yourself from being hurt?’

Stefan, who was used to keeping his conversations satisfyingly superficial, wondered why every exchange with her dived far beneath the surface. ‘I live my life the way I want to live it. Right now I’d like to attend my own party. Shall we go?’

Everyone was staring, some discreetly over the top of their champagne glasses and some more openly. But all the glances revealed the same emotion.

Shock.

Feeling like a caged bird suddenly released to freedom, Selene took another glass of champagne just because she could.

Stefan frowned. ‘Are you sure you should drink that?’

‘Do you know one of the best things about tonight? The fact that all of it is my decision. I decided to come to the party, I decided what dress I’d wear and now I’m deciding to drink champagne.’

‘Just as long as you realise you’re also choosing to have a crushing headache in the morning.’

‘It will be worth it.’ She drank half the glass and smiled up at him. ‘Champagne makes everything feel more exciting, doesn’t it?’

‘The second glass does that. After the third I doubt you’ll remember enough about what happened to be excited. I advise you to switch to orange juice.’

‘If it’s going to give me a headache then I’ll find that out for myself.’

‘I’ll remind you of that when you’re moaning in the bathroom.’

She laughed up at him, forgetting the people around them. ‘How many glasses of champagne do you have to drink before you’ll kiss me in public?’

His eyes gleamed. ‘I don’t need to be intoxicated for that, koukla mou.’

‘In that case—’ her voice husky, Selene closed her fingers around the lapel of his jacket and closed her eyes ‘—kiss me.’ Just in case it never happened again. Just in case tonight was the only chance she was going to get to kiss a man like him.

Anticipation washed over her skin and she waited to feel the brush of his mouth over hers, barely aware of the hum of conversation or the music around her as her imagination took over her mind. But he didn’t kiss her. It was a moment of elongated suspense designed to torture her, and just when she’d started to think she was going to remember this moment as the most humiliating of her life she felt the tips of his fingers slide over her jaw.

She opened her eyes and met his, her heart pounding a crazy rhythm.

There was a brief silence and then he slid his hand behind her head and drew her face to his. ‘What is it about you? I should walk away, but I can’t.’

Desire was an ache low in her belly. ‘I’m hanging onto your jacket. That could be the reason.’

He didn’t smile. He didn’t say a word.

For a breathless moment Selene saw something flicker in those dark eyes and then he lowered his head slowly, his eyes locked on hers. Until that moment she’d never known that a look could have a physical effect, but she felt that look all the way through her body in a rush of heat that spread right through her.

The anticipation was so acute it was almost painful—and he knew it because that sensual mouth curved slightly as he prolonged expectation.

And then the warmth of his breath brushed against her lips and she felt his free hand slide down her back and settle low on her waist as he drew her into contact with him.

She felt hardness and heat and suddenly doing this didn’t feel like light-hearted fun any more. In his eyes she saw no trace of humour. Just raw, untamed male sexuality. She realised in a flash that he was controlling every second of this encounter. The pace. The intensity. Even her response. He was in charge of all of it.

And suddenly she knew that exploring her own sexuality with this man was like deciding to buy a pet and choosing a tiger. He was everything that wasn’t tame or safe. Everything dangerous. Everything she’d dreamed of during those long nights when she’d imagined her life looking different.

Her mind in fast rewind, she tried to pull away. But his hand was hard and warm on her back and he held her exactly as she’d dreamed of being held.

‘Close your eyes, champagne girl.’ His soft command slid into her bones and she felt as if she’d just jumped off a high diving board with no opportunity to change her mind before she hit deep water.

And then his mouth touched hers and she forgot all of it as she melted under the skill of his kiss. He kissed her with erotic expertise, teasing her lips with his tongue, driving her wild with each movement of his mouth until her head was spinning and her thoughts were an incoherent blur.

It was, without doubt, the most perfect, exciting moment of her life and she wrapped her arms around his neck, her body quivering as she felt the evidence of his arousal pressing against her.