Her constant avowals of love, rather than irritating him, he was beginning to find quite addictive. He had known a few women, and he was realistic enough to recognize that, great sex aside, the biggest part of his attraction was his wealth. Personally he thought love was an excuse the female of the species, Emily included, used to justify having sex with a man. Wryly he amended that thought, with the exception of the three generations of females in his family who had imagined themselves in love and suffered for it.
His grandmother had been the daughter of a wealthy Spanish Peruvian rancher, a Señor Sebastian Emanuel Diaz. Her father had disowned her after she had disgraced the family by getting pregnant and running away to Lima with a ranch hand. They never married and he left her when their daughter was barely a year old. His own mother had repeated the same mistake twice over, first by falling in love with a Frenchman who had left her with a baby girl, and then with Anton’s father, a Greek who was married, and she became his mistress. While not a complete tragedy, his mother had not made the wisest of choices. As for his sister—to kill herself for love didn’t bear thinking about.
No, if love existed then it was a destructive emotion and not one Anton was prepared to embrace. He lusted after Emily, but he had no illusions about the female of the species. He knew his wealth and power were probably just as much an aphrodisiac to Emily as they had been to the countless other women he had known.
The wedding had gone perfectly and they were now on his private jet heading for the South of France to board his yacht anchored off Monaco.
His dark eyes narrowed as they roamed over her lovely face, serene in sleep. He noted the fantastic sweep of her lashes over her eyes, the sensuously curved passionate mouth, the slight curve of her breasts revealed between the lapels of the wild blue silk suit she wore, and his body tightened.
Pity he had not been able to remove the exquisite white wedding gown. The image of her as he had turned to watch her walk down the aisle would live in his mind for ever. Beautiful was an understatement; her sparkling blue eyes had met his and for a long moment he had not been able to breathe, such was her effect on him. Even now remembering made his heart beat faster and he fought the temptation to kiss her awake. He had waited this long, he could wait a little longer until they reached the comfort of his yacht. He did not want to rush what he had promised himself would be a long night of passion.
A light flashed in the gathering darkness, and he heard the sudden change in the engine noise; they would be landing soon. Good, he was getting impatient. He could not remember the last time he had waited so long for a woman, if ever … though it had all been part of his plan.
Emily was a passionate woman, and as an experienced man of the world and a skilful lover Anton had recognized that immediately. He had quickly decided his best policy was to give her just a taste of what she wanted and no more. To build up her frustration until she was so desperate to have him she would accept his proposal of marriage without a second thought. Which of course she had.
Anton shifted uncomfortably in his seat. The trouble was he had suffered just as much if not more from the enforced celibacy, as the stirring in his groin could testify. He had ended his last affair a month after his mother’s death when the woman he was involved with at the time had started hinting at marriage now he was alone in the world. He grimaced painfully. He had never gone so long without sex since he was a teenager, but thankfully the wait would soon be over.
A slight frown creased his brow as, thinking back over the past few weeks, he suddenly realized every time he had stopped after a kiss or two Emily had looked at him with desire-dazed eyes, and yet she had made no attempt to seduce him, no attempt to touch him intimately. Not the usual reaction of a sexually sophisticated woman. In his experience they normally made their desire very clear. Odd … or maybe not so odd, he corrected cynically. She had probably been playing the same waiting game as he had to make sure of getting a ring on her finger …
‘Anton.’ A throaty murmur had his eyes flying back to her face.
‘You’re awake. Good.’ He lowered his head to taste the soft sweetness of her luscious mouth. ‘We are landing soon,’ he murmured, lifting his head, and, taking her hands in his, he folded them on her lap. ‘Another half-hour and we will be on board the yacht.’
‘It can’t be too soon.’ Emily smiled up at him, her brilliant blue eyes dazzling him. ‘My love. My husband.’
‘I agree, wife.’ Anton smiled back. Yes, she was his wife, he had succeeded, he thought complacently as, with a sexy Emily firmly clasped to his side, he led her off the jet to the waiting helicopter.
His mother must be smiling down on him and that snobbish swine Charles Fairfax must be spinning in his grave, or burning in hell. He didn’t care which. Because his daughter was now a Diaz, the name he thought not fit to be connected to Fairfax. A result all around …
His hand tightened possessively around her slender waist and in that moment he decided … Actually there was no pressing need to tell Emily what a two-timing dirty swine her father was, the real reason he had married her. It was enough for Anton to know he had kept the vow he had made on his mother’s grave.
Emily staggered out of the helicopter into Anton’s arms. He swung her off her feet and she wrapped her arms around his neck as, ducking his head under the still-swirling blades, he carried her to the stairs leading down from the helipad and into the body of the yacht. He didn’t stop until he reached the main salon and lowered her slowly to her feet.
‘Welcome aboard.’ He grinned down at her and Emily registered the swell of his arousal as he dipped his head and kissed her.
She felt the earth move, or maybe it was just the yacht, but either way she flung her arms around Anton’s neck again and clung.
‘I want to make it to the bed at least,’ she heard him groan, his hands roaming restlessly down her spine and over her bottom.
Emily shivered with excitement and, glancing around her in awe, she laughed out loud. ‘This is huge!’ she exclaimed, turning back to Anton, and saw his lips twitch. ‘I have been on expeditions on ships half this size.’
‘Emily—stop talking,’ Anton commanded, his ego slightly deflated. His lips sought hers once again, and she closed her eyes in willing surrender as his tongue slipped between her softly parted lips in a long drugging kiss.
Finally when she was breathless he raised his head. ‘I have waited too long for this.’ He peeled off his jacket and hers as he walked her backwards in what she hoped was the direction of the master cabin.
She felt her breasts swell as his hand stroked one lace-covered breast, his thumb grazing the tip over the fine fabric, and her nipples tightened into hard pulsing points of pleasure. His mouth caught her soft gasp of delight, then moments later he nudged a door open with his shoulder.
She barely registered the bedroom; she had eyes for nothing but Anton.
Without a word he cupped her face and bent his dark head, covering her mouth with his at first tenderly. Then, as she opened her mouth to him, with a fast-growing passion that she returned with helpless fervour.
‘Emily.’ He said her name, and, lifting his head, he locked his dark eyes with hers, black with a hunger, a passion, that burned through to her bones. His hand slid around her back to dispense with her bra and stayed to hold her to him. For a long moment he simply stared and just his gaze on her naked breasts made her tremble with excitement.
‘Exquisite,’ he murmured throatily as he lowered his head to trace the slender length of her neck with his mouth and suck on the rapidly beating pulse there. Then trail lower to her breast.
His tongue licked one pert nipple and the tightened