Wedding Night Reunion In Greece. Annie West

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!