Bought by the Greek Tycoon Read online

  'Now I understand why you didn't want Theo to visit,' Luke said, drawing her against him, his appreciative gaze narrowing to shards of pure silver. 'But I don't understand why you thought it was unsuitable for you and I.'

  Jemma's mouth ran dry, a wanton surge of heat igniting in her belly. 'Perhaps because I didn't know you so well when I said that,' she suggested huskily, and, slightly surprised at her own boldness, she wrapped her arms around him. The atmosphere between them sizzled with sexual tension.

  'And now you do, shall we stay here a while?' Luke asked thickly.

  'Oh, yes. I—' His tongue delved between her parted lips before she could finish the sentence. Clinging to him, she trembled in the circle of his arms as he lifted her up and, slipping off her sandals, placed her on the massive bed.

  'Every time I look at you I want to strip you naked,' Luke confided. Whipping off his top and shorts, kicking off his beach shoes, he joined her on the bed. Then he laughed. 'A mirrored canopy; it gets better and better.'

  'I know.' She ran her hand over his biceps and across, to linger sensually on the muscular swell of his chest as need surged inside her. She smiled as Luke reached for her.

  'Much as I love your touch, now it is not a good idea. I want to take this slow.' And taking her hand from his chest, he unbuttoned her blouse and slid it from her shoulders, his head dipping so his tongue could taste the tender crests of her breasts. She gasped.

  'You are so receptive,' Luke told her huskily, taking the tie from her hair. Easing her flat on the bed, he took her shorts and panties from her body. The silver flame of his eyes wandered over her beautiful face, her slender shoulders, and moving a long leg between hers, he leant back to stare down at her. The breath left Jemma's lungs when she registered the ferocious extent of his arousal.

  'For you.' Luke smiled, a wickedly amused twist of his mobile mouth that was incredibly seductive. 'But not yet.' Reaching forward, he took her hands and spread them wide on each side of her body. 'Stay like that,' he commanded, as his gaze skimmed lower over her rose-tipped breasts to the red-gold curls at the junction of her thighs.

  Jemma's hands curled into the soft silken sheets at her sides but she did as he said, trembling like a leaf in the wind as his hands cupped her breasts and gently kneaded them. Then with finger and thumb he nipped the rigid tips until a whimpering moan of pure pleasure escaped her.

  'Easy, Jemma. I want to take full advantage of this extraordinary room,' he said, and, leaning forward, he teasingly outlined the curve of her mouth with his tongue before slipping it inside with a wickedness that made her blood thicken and then flow like molten lava through her veins.

  She lifted her arms to hold him, but he placed them back on the bed. 'No touching—not yet,' he decreed, before resuming toying with the rigid peaks of her breasts, this time with his mouth. The rhythmic suction sent ever strengthening sexual messages through her body until she cried out his name.

  'You like that?'

  'Yes,' she breathed as he leant back again, his hand moving lower to her stomach and the soft silken curls below, his fingertips slipping between the velvet folds and lingering there to tease and caress with subtle expertise.

  'Oh, yes.' Jemma moaned, her writhing body on fire.

  Then, catching sight of the reflection in the mirrored roof of the canopy, she gasped.

  She was splayed beneath him, a willing prisoner to the tormenting touch of his fingers. She saw the sheen of sweat on his sleek muscled body, the straining strength of his arousal. Shaking with the agonising ache of frustrated desire, she widened her eyes to molten gold pools of passion as Luke reared up and sank into the sleek, moist heat of her.

  His powerful shoulders locked, and as he thrust hard and deep her control shattered. She clutched him, her fingers digging into his back, her internal muscles clenching around the entire length of him.

  'Ah, Jemma,' he groaned, easing back.

  'Don't stop,' she whimpered.

  'No way.' He kissed her. 'But it's my turn to view.' He flipped her around to straddle him, silver fire burning away every trace of grey in his smouldering eyes as he reared up beneath her.

  Jemma's head fell back as he rocked her to the very core, their bodies locked in a frantic primitive coupling. In a tangle of arms and legs he spun her around on the decadent bed with a thrusting driven passion that finally shattered his control. A rough groan was torn from his throat and the world exploded around Jemma in wave after wave of ecstasy so sublime she thought she might die of it. Dimly she was aware of sobbing out his name, then Luke was on top of her again, his great body rigid, racked with great shuddering convulsions as she was swept into a mindless oblivion.

  When she opened her eyes Luke was lying across her with his head buried in the curve of her shoulder. She stared up and saw the reflection of his magnificent bronzed body, his skin beaded with sweat, his buttocks clenched, and felt the still throbbing length of him inside her. She closed her eyes again.

  Some time later Luke's deep voice rasped against her ear. 'I'm too heavy—I don't want to flatten you into the bed.' And he rolled off onto his back.

  Jemma slowly opened her eyes once more, and her eyes met his in the mirror above. 'You're not that heavy,' she murmured, letting her gaze wander down over his magnificent torso. 'But is that a suggestion of a paunch I spy?' she teased, glancing back at his face. She saw where his eyes were fixed and suddenly realised she was equally naked. She felt vaguely uncomfortable. It was one thing for lovers to be naked together, but there was something voyeuristic and slightly unpleasant about a mirrored bed.

  'Cheeky.' Luke leant up on one elbow to look down at her. 'I'm a man in my prime.' He grinned. 'But your aunt must have been one heck of a woman, with a seriously erotic imagination.' His eyes caught sight of a particular picture on the wall and it almost made him blush—which would have been a first. 'Though I suppose it could have been her lover's idea.'

  'You could be right about the fantasy thing. I know that it was after spending ten days sharing this room with my aunt last year that I fell into your bed on the yacht,' Jemma said dryly. 'Maybe it wasn't the wine. Maybe I received a subliminal message or something.'

  Luke chuckled; he much preferred that scenario than wondering if she had used him as a substitute for her dead husband. Pure lust he could appreciate, as had the man who had paid for this love nest, he mused. 'Do you know who your aunt's lover was?' he asked idly.

  'No, I have no idea.'

  Luke's eyes narrowed on her supine body. Her fabulous hair was fanned out in a wild halo around her head, a few tendrils falling over her breasts, and a slight flush of pink was spreading over her skin and colouring her lovely face. Her glorious amber eyes avoided his and he knew she was lying. He could actually feel it in the slight tension of her body touching his own. But why? 'Your aunt never even gave you a hint?' he prompted, giving her a second chance to come clean.

  'No.' Jemma sat up and swept her mass of hair back from her forehead. 'And it doesn't matter now she's dead.' She flicked him a glance. 'Do you realise we have ended up upside down on this bed?' she said, swinging her legs to the floor.

  'There isn't a correct way round on a circular bed,' Luke pointed out with a slightly cynical smile, well aware that she had deliberately tried to change the subject and deciding to let it go. After all, it had nothing to do with him, but oddly it rankled that Jemma had lied; she obviously didn't trust him with the secret. But why should he care? She was married to him, and without conceit he knew the rampant desire that flared within him every time he looked at her was returned one hundred per cent by her. Their sexual compatibility was incredible. He only had to touch her and she was incapable of hiding her response—she didn't even try But it didn't stop him wondering what other secrets she kept hidden from him…

  'No, I suppose not.' Jemma forced a reciprocal grin to her lips and inexplicably she shivered. Suddenly the room seemed claustrophobic, and she had a terrific urge to get out. She found her shorts and panti
es and stepped into them, but she had to walk around the bed to find her shirt. When she did she slipped it on and fastened the buttons with fingers that shook.

  Her smile was reassuring, until Luke saw the shadows in her eyes and the haste with which she dressed. Was she regretting their romp in the decadent bed? Or was she remembering her last husband and wishing it had been he she had shared the experience with? The unbidden thought popped into his head.

  No—surely not. If Luke had learned anything about his beautiful wife in the last few days it was that for a woman who had been married before she was oddly inexperienced in the bedroom—though flatteringly eager to make love. He had felt it in her tentative touch, seen the shock in her eyes and felt the slight resistance as he had delved into the fiery curls between her legs with his tongue and tipped her into a shuddering climax. It was something she had never experienced before, she had confided breathlessly. He had heard it in her startled exclamation—I didn't know that was possible—after a particularly adventurous episode in the spa bath, and this morning in her assertion that she had never heard of male morning arousal. Perhaps her late husband hadn't had much of a sex drive.

  He watched her slip her small pink-toed feet into her sandals. He loved her feet… His mind drifted away as his eyes slid up over her. He loved everything about her. Her glorious hair fell down her back in silken disarray, her face was free of make-up, glowing in the aftermath of sex, and the swollen contours of her lush lips made him want to kiss her again. Love her again…

  Jemma had turned out to be an amazing lover… shy, but growing bolder by the day. Remembering her laughter when she had thrown open the door of this room, the eagerness with which she had come into his arms, had him aroused again in an instant. His gaze dropped to her cleavage as she fumbled with the buttons of her shirt. He had never seen her wear a bra, but then she didn't need to. She was as natural as the flowers she adored, and, if anything, more exquisite than any specimen known to man. But she had known another man…

  There it was again. The infantile curiosity to know what her last husband had been like as a lover. Damn it all, why was he bothered? It wasn't like him at all. With all the women he had known in his life he'd never had any desire to know about their previous partners, and he never discussed the women in his past. He knew he was a good lover, and he knew he made Jemma happy in bed; that was all that mattered, wasn't it…? He realised she had moved to the door. 'Leaving so soon?'

  Jemma slanted him a glance over her shoulder. 'Yes. You've seen the place now, and we'll be back the day after tomorrow with the architect. You were right about the house; it will make a decent holiday home. But in my opinion it's not really suitable for Theo to live in; the access is far too difficult.' And without waiting for his response she opened the door and dashed down the hall out into the fresh air.

  As she turned her back on him and shot out of the room it hit Luke like a blow to the solar plexus that keeping Jemma happy in bed was not all that mattered to him. He wanted more, much more. He wanted her to be incapable of walking away from him: he wanted to be the centre of her universe…

  He, Luke Devetzi, who had never believed in love, was totally smitten. He had tried to deny it in his mind ever since their first encounter, because he had thought she was married. But suddenly he recognised the truth. He had been celibate for a year after meeting Jemma, and as a man who had never gone more than a couple of months without a woman since he was a teenager he should have realised something was wrong. It had been sheer desperation that had led him into dating Davina. But from the minute he'd seen Jemma again, and realised she was free, with single-minded determination he had plotted and planned and spent a fortune to make her his.

  Stunned, he looked around the bedroom—a place designed by past lovers, exciting, but faded now, and certainly not essential to Luke. In fact, he didn't give a damn about the house—it was Theo's dream, not his—and yet he had used both it and her father's actions to force Jemma into marrying him.

  Oh, hell… How could he hope she would fall in love with him, given the way he had behaved? In fact, if this gut-wrenching terrified feeling was love, he wasn't sure he wanted it.

  Jemma took a deep steadying breath as she walked slowly down to the water's edge.

  'I take it an orgy is out, then?' Luke appeared at her side and she lifted her eyes to meet the dryly amused expression on his face.

  'You've got that right,' she shot back smartly. 'I want to get back to our comfortable hotel and be waited on hand and foot.'

  Luke took her face between his hands; her hair was loose and gleaming golden in the sun. Her eyes lifted slightly warily to his, for all her smart comment, and he wanted to tell her then how he felt, to see the wariness fade from her incredible eyes, see them glow with a deeper emotion. But he didn't. Instead he took her mouth with his own in a long tender kiss. Jemma was his now; he would do everything in his power to keep her, and that was all he needed to know…

  CHAPTER TEN

  But on Thursday, after Luke had shown Paul the architect around the house while Jemma had determinedly stayed outside, he wasn't so sure.

  Paul was young, dark and handsome, and his eyes had lit up when he saw the bedroom. But they'd lit up a hell of a lot more when, after he had sketched a rough plan, they'd exited the house and found Jemma lying on a towel on the beach in a minuscule bikini.

  It struck Luke that, much as he appreciated Jemma's fantastic body, he was nowhere near happy to see other men appreciate it as well. Nor was he at all pleased by the architect's rather sly aside in Greek, 'Are you sure you want to get rid of that bedroom?'

  Luke gave him a gimlet-eyed stare that knocked the smile from his lace, and fixed his attention on his wife.

  'You've had enough sun for one day, Jemma,' he snapped, and reached down a hand to pull her to her feet. Picking up the towel, he wrapped it around her shoulders. He saw the surprise and query in her amber eyes and realised he had sounded harsh. But then he had never suffered from jealousy before…

  How are the mighty fallen, Luke thought, and smiled wryly down at her, wrapping her possessively in the curve of his arm. 'The architect has done a rough sketch; I'm sure you'll like it, Jemma.' And, indicating the garden and the jetty with his hand, he explained, 'The house will be extended on that side in an L shape, to provide four bedrooms, incorporating a boat house to end at the landing stage and solving the problem of Theo's safe arrival and departure.'

  She glanced up at him through the thick veil of her lashes. 'You mean obliterate the garden and rockery?'

  'Yes. It makes perfect sense. Don't you see?' he said with growing enthusiasm. 'That side catches the sun all afternoon, and a veranda will run along the length of the building for shade. The rest will be a paved courtyard, for dining out, and you can have potted palms, plants, flowering creepers, anything you like. There will be very little maintenance involved.'

  'No,' she rejected bluntly, and, twisting out of his arm, she ignored Luke and said to Paul, 'Sorry, you'll have to think of some other way; perhaps a second storey on the house, or restoring the original two bedrooms?'

  Luke was puzzled and a little put out at her instant dismissal of the plan. 'Be sensible, Jemma, that's the only spare land there is. And as I recall you damaged your fingers building the rockery. The garden isn't necessary with the natural beauty of the bay all around.'

  'It is to me,' she said flatly, avoiding his gaze.

  He knew she loved gardening, but she was being ridiculous and he was becoming annoyed, it's all right,' he said to Paul. 'Show my wife the sketch and I'm sure when she realises how stunning it will be she'll agree.' But, to his amazement, Jemma took the sketch that Paul held out to her, glanced at it, and then tore it into little pieces.

  'I'm afraid my husband has misled you, Paul. This house is mine, and only mine, and if there are any alterations to be done they will be ordered and approved by me, and only me. Isn't that right, Luke?' she demanded, lifting hard angry eyes to his. 'As I recall
, it's set out as such in our pre-nup,' she reminded him scathingly. 'You keep what's yours and I keep what's mine. And now, if you will excuse me, I'm going for a swim.' Shrugging off the towel, she ran down the beach and into the sea.

  Luke felt like strangling her, he was so furious, but instead he had to escort the architect off the property, promising he would be in touch later. By the time he had walked to the top of the cliff and then made the descent back to the beach Luke had had plenty of time to think, and his temper had cooled somewhat.

  He was an astute man, he had made a fortune reading the stock market, and he brought the same sharp intelligence to bear now in reading Jemma. She was sexy as hell, but she was also a sweet, lovable, loyal woman. It was obvious in the way she behaved with everyone she met. The staff in the hotel adored her—he had caught her this morning asking the porter how his new baby was. She had the capacity to be at ease with anyone, and, although Luke had given her no choice but to marry him, she had accepted it and without too many arguments more than fulfilled her part of the deal.

  He had never had such mind-blowing sex with a woman in his life, and still he couldn't get enough of her. In fact, the force of his feelings frightened him; it wasn't just the physical connection with Jemma, but almost a mental connection. He loved her, and he had never felt anything like it in his life.

  Which was why he knew it was not in Jemma's nature to react so furiously over something so simple as a sketch suggesting an extension to the house. His grey eyes narrowed and he glanced around the cove, his gaze lingering on the garden. So what was so important about the garden that it upset her so badly?

  Stripping off his clothes to reveal black Speedo trunks, he walked towards the water. Like Aphrodite rising from the waves she stood up, flicking the long length of her hair over one shoulder as she bent her head and wrung out the excess water, then straightened up. He saw her tense the moment she spotted him, and then reluctantly begin to walk towards him.