Читать книгу Wedding Night Reunion In Greece - Annie West - Страница 12

‘LIVE AS YOUR WIFE? You’ve got to be kidding.’

A flush climbed Emma’s pale cheeks and her greenish brown eyes glittered more brightly than he’d ever seen.

She was a pretty woman but indignation made her arresting.

Christo surveyed her curiously. She vibrated with energy, her breasts heaving and her mouth working. She looked...full of passion. That hadn’t been on his checklist.

The news he’d become responsible for his stepsister’s child had come just before his visit to Australia. He’d picked Emma as a suitable bride because she’d make a good mother and a compliant wife.

But Emma was far more than either of those things, he realised. Instinct had drawn him to her with good reason. Her allure was more subtle and intriguing than surface glamour. His body tightened in anticipation.

He wanted his wife.

Wanted her more by the minute.

And he intended to have her. To salvage his pride after being dumped like an unwanted parcel at his own wedding. Because he had a score to settle. But above all because he’d desired her ever since their first gentle kiss. Her breathless ardour had unlocked something deep inside that had grown and morphed into something very like need.

‘There are two things I never joke about. Business and family.’ The first because it was his lifeblood, the second because he never made light of anything with such power to destroy.

‘I know why you married me, remember? I heard what you told your best man.’ Emma’s lips thinned as she pulled her mouth tight and the colour faded from her cheeks.

Christo didn’t like her pallor. That drawn look made her seem fragile. Vulnerable. Reminding him that she looked that way because of him. He was responsible.

‘I never lied to you.’

‘Not specifically, but you made me believe—’ She bit her tongue and looked away.

Christo could finish her sentence. He’d made her think he was falling for her. That he was a man capable of love.

Something dark slithered through his belly, drawing nausea in its wake. Without a second thought Christo stifled it. He didn’t have the time or inclination for feelings. Nor for pointless self-recrimination.

‘It’s done now. And my offer is on the table.’ An offer she would accept.

Her face swung round and the impact of all that barely contained emotion slammed into him. To his surprise, Christo welcomed it.

Because he’d rather have his wife angry than sad and defeated. It was a new concept. He filed it away for later consideration. Along with the dark shadow edging his conscience.

‘You can’t want me to live with you. I despise you.’

If Emma expected that to derail his plans, she really was an innocent. But then she hadn’t come from his world but from what appeared to be a close, loving family. For a second Christo pondered what that would be like.

‘You might be surprised at what I want and what I can live with. Besides, you owe me.’

‘I owe you?’ There it was again, that shimmer of defiance, that surge of energy that made his wife the most interesting woman he’d met in years. Even the fact that her vibrancy was due to inconvenient feelings didn’t deter him.

‘You gave your word. You made promises to me, Emma.’ He even enjoyed the taste of her name on his tongue.

How would that pale golden skin of hers taste?

‘You really expect me to share a house with you?’

‘And a bed.’

She goggled up at him as if he spoke Swahili instead of English.

‘You’re not serious.’ For the first time since he’d arrived he saw her falter, grabbing the back of a nearby chair.

That hint of vulnerability ignited a trail of gunpowder right through his considerable self-control. Was the idea of sex with him really so appalling? He refused to believe it.

Christo enjoyed women, within strict parameters, and he knew sexual attraction when he saw it. A week ago his demure bride had been counting the hours till they were naked together. Soon she would be again.

‘But I am. You’re mine, Emma, and I intend to have you. At the very least you owe me a wedding night.’

* * *

Emma gripped the carved back of the antique chair and willed the room to stop spinning.

This was crazy. Impossible.

Yet Christo Karides stood there looking as implacable as ever. More so. Before the wedding she’d seen a gentler, more restrained man. Now she saw the real Christo, haughty and demanding. Over the top with his outlandish demands.

‘You’d force me into sex?’

For the first time since he’d stalked along the beach—sexy, brooding and starkly dangerous—she saw him recoil.

‘I’d never force a woman. What sort of man do you think I am?’ He even had the temerity to look outraged!