Page 18 of Pregnant Behind the Veil (Brides for Greek Brothers #3)

Alessandra

I feel like a princess. I’m standing on a marble balcony overlooking the cerulean waters of the Aegean Sea.

The room behind me is the size of my apartment, complete with a massive bed on a raised dais, a clawfoot soaking tub in the ensuite bathroom and deep blue tufted furniture that invites one to laze away an entire day napping or reading.

Too bad my nerves are wound so tight I feel like I might snap.

It’s not just being back in Santorini, although that certainly doesn’t help.

Every time I catch the sweet, floral scent of the bright pink bougainvillea flowers, I’m thrust back to the moment Michail pressed me into a tumble of blooms and branded me with a kiss I felt all the way to my soul.

Whenever I stare out over the ocean, I see Michail walking through the door of the bar, his eyes locking onto mine as if he’d been looking for me.

I sigh and lean on the railing. The memories I spent months trying to suppress are everywhere. The pain is still there, but it’s no longer acute. Now there’s confusion. I was so convinced I wanted nothing to do with Michail Sullivan.

But each passing day ushers in realizations about the man I married. Details like how he funded a world-renowned boutique for a friend of his mother’s, or how his desire to give me a small fortune is rooted in watching his mom struggle through his childhood.

A knock sounds on my door.

“Come in.”

Michail walks in and quietly closes the door behind me.

My heart starts beating in triple time. The more time I spend with him, the more I question my resistance.

Yes, there’s the potential for heartbreak.

But more and more I’m seeing the other side, the possibility that Michail and I could find our own version of happiness.

Is it possible that, in time, he might be able to let himself feel more for me?

The thought is simultaneously thrilling and terrifying.

“The limo will be here in an hour.”

“Okay.” He glances at the dress draped across the bed. “Are you going to keep me in suspense until we leave?”

It takes a moment for me to realize he’s teasing.

“Well, since you paid, I’ll give you a preview.”

I move to the bed.

“Why did you let me pay?”

My hand stills on the zipper as I glance at him. His jaw is tense, his hands clasped behind him.

“Because you gave me a choice.”

When I’d first walked into the boutique, it had taken willpower to keep my anger in check.

I thought he had brought me to one of the most exclusive dress shops in the world because he had known my budget would be stretched to the limit by a mere belt, let alone an actual dress.

That he would present it as an opportunity to tap into the money he’d deposited.

But when he’d offered me not just the gift of a dress but to choose for myself, my anger had crumbled, replaced by an emotion I’m still too afraid to examine closely.

“It’s been a long time since anyone other than my mom gave me a gift.”

His eyes flare. “I’m glad it could be me.”

I nod and quickly look away before I make a fool of myself.

I unzip the bag halfway. Violet-colored chiffon peaks through the gap.

When Michail joined me on the platform, I knew.

Knew I had to have the dress that would always make me think of how he stood just behind me, the barest touch of his fingers on my back setting fire to every suppressed desire that’s been smoldering since we first locked eyes all those months ago.

When I look back at Michail, my breath catches. He’s staring at me, his gaze burning, possessiveness and lust etched into his face.

“Good choice.”

My thighs grow damp as my ache returns, deepens with every passing moment. “Thank you.”

Is that my voice? Husky and breathless? I hesitate for a split second, caught between self-preservation and a consuming desire that intensifies with each passing moment.

Now, as we prepare to walk into our first public event as husband and wife, the need to be with him, to have him in the one way he’ll let me, is a demand I can no longer deny.

“I could use some help getting into it.”

His body visibly tightens. “Now?”

The word is a guttural growl that spears straight to my core.

“Yes.” I reach down and grab the hem of my shirt. “It might take a while to put on.”

I whisk my shirt over my head. Nerves hit, fast and vicious. My body has changed so much since we were together, from my ever-expanding stomach to my breasts swelling above the cups of my bra.

He stalks toward me with slow, measured steps that make me want to scream at him to hurry. His gaze is scalding as his eyes linger on my breasts, my stomach, my legs. He stops in front of me, hands fisted at his sides.

“Last chance, Alessandra.”

I raise my chin up even as I quake inside. “Are you going to kiss me or not—”

He wraps an arm around my naked waist, the heat of his skin a brand against my back. His other hand comes up to cradle my face with a tenderness that stings my eyes.

And then he feasts on me. Mouth on mine, firm with need, his tongue sweeping across my lips with a masculine confidence that has me opening for him. His fingers tug at my hair. When it cascades down my back, his groan vibrates against my lips and fills me with feminine confidence.

I push my hands between our bodies and tug his shirt up, thrilling at the feel of bare skin and muscle. The hand at my back moves up. One slight tug and my bra falls away. Michail pulls back and stares down at me.

“God, you’re beautiful.”

My teeth sink into my lower lip. I hadn’t even realized how deeply my insecurities had taken root until that moment. A thought that’s obliterated as he leans down and presses an open-mouthed kiss to my skin.

My eyes drift shut and I moan his name, my head dropping back as he sucks one nipple into the wet heat of his mouth.

He pulls me deeper, sensation spearing out from my breast and through my body.

He repeats his movements on my other breast, driving me to the edge of madness as he nudges me back toward the bed.

Slowly, he lowers me until I’m sitting on the edge. He pulls back. Cool air kisses my nipples. He hooks his fingers in the waistband of my pants and pulls down. I arch off the bed for a moment.

And then I’m naked before him.

Even though my blood feels like it’s on fire, even though I want nothing more than to feel him inside me, my hands drift to my thighs, my fingers splaying to cover myself.

Michail lays one hand on top of mine.

“I woke up some nights, especially that first month, with the taste of you on my lips.”

Fire? No, it’s molten lava now coursing through my veins. That and the knowledge that whatever walls I thought I’d erected to keep myself safe from Michail are nothing more than an illusion.

“Michail…”

His other hand comes up, smooths strands of hair back from my face. This is the man I fell for that night. The man who could demand and soothe in equal measure.

“I want to taste you again.” He shakes his head slightly. “I need to taste you.”

Shuddering, I part my thighs. His breath rushes out as he places his hands on my legs and gently pushes.

I lean back on the bed, watch as he lowers his head.

My eyes drift shut when he places a soft kiss on my inner thigh.

I cry out when he grazes his teeth just above that.

My inhibitions disappear as he moves higher, higher still, teasing, driving me mad with every caress.

He places his mouth on me and I explode. I fist my hands in his hair, my hips pressing into his mouth as pleasure catapults me up so high I wonder if I’ll ever come back down to earth.

I’m aware of Michail standing, feel his absence like a part of me has been wrenched away. I open my eyes in time to see him pull his shirt over his head.

“You really do have perfect abs.”

His laugh is short but pleased as he pulls off his pants. “Glad those hours in the gym are worth something.”

He stands next to the bed, naked and confident.

Skin bronzed by hours spent under the sun.

Dark hair thick and slightly mussed, adding to that hint of wildness that’s always just below the surface.

His body is sharp and defined, from the thick bulk of his arms to his muscled thighs.

The sight of his hard arousal makes me feel satisfyingly feminine.

I hold out my hand to him. “Definitely worth it.”

He joins me on the bed, gently pushing me onto my back as he kisses me.

This time he’s gentle, each kiss a soft promise of what’s to come.

His hands drift up and down my body, cupping my breasts, teasing my skin.

I dimly note that he avoids my stomach. But I’m too distracted by the growing sensation, by the intensifying ache between my legs, to question it.

My own hands explore his body, my fingers sliding across hard muscle and heated skin. I reach for him, wrap my hand around his length. His groan has me smiling and pumping my hand.

He stops me. “I need to be inside you this time.”

I frown. “I want to play.”

His grin is quick, uninhibited. “We have all the time we need.”

But we don’t . The thought is fleeting, painful. We have a year. After that… I don’t want to hope for more. Hope that things can change between us.

He kisses me again. I push the thoughts away and focus instead on him—my husband—and the pleasure between us.

“Tell me what works best.”

I smile against his mouth. “I’ve never done this before pregnant.”

His laugh is warm against my lips. “A first for me, too.”

He places his hands on my hips and rolls.

I push up on his chest and straddle his waist, moaning as he hardens, his cock pressing against my core.

I wrap my fingers around him again, lifting up slightly before easing down just enough to feel the tip of him against my wet skin. I smile as his eyes darken.

And then I sink down, slowly taking him inside. My body stretches then tightens, clamping down around him. I sigh as he fills me up.

“I missed this.”

I freeze. I didn’t mean to say that out loud. Ridiculous to feel self-conscious when I’m naked with my husband deep inside me.

Michail leans up, threading his fingers through my hair as he pulls my head down.

“So did I.”

The kiss is a soft caress, his lips whispering across mine. Tears press against the backs of my eyes but I blink them away as I kiss him back. It changes, deepens, turns into something hard and hungry as he thrusts up into my body.

I push him back down on the bed, brace my palms against his chest, and ride. The pleasure builds once more, but this time deeper, even more satisfying. He keeps his eyes locked on mine, his hands on my hips, helping me keep the pace as we spiral up.

My release hits, sudden and devastatingly intense. I cry out his name, my fingers digging into his chest. He follows a moment later, his body shuddering beneath me, my name on his lips.

I sit there for a moment, the aftershocks of my pleasure making me shiver. I slide off and lie down on the bed next to him. Our ragged breathing fills the air. That and the roar of my blood still pounding through me.

I think I’ve known all along that this is where we would end up. As soon as I said yes to going back to his apartment, a part of me knew I couldn’t be this close to Michail without succumbing to the passion that bound us one night.

Michail shifts and leans over, pressing a soft kiss to my bare shoulder. After what we just shared, the small gesture shouldn’t touch me the way it does.

“Next time will be more drawn out.”

I arch a brow at him. “Next time?”

He moves, shifts until his body covers mine again, bracing himself above me as he leans down and kisses the skin between my breasts.

“Next time.” His mouth moves over, brushes one still-taut nipple. “And the time after.” I cry out as he grazes his teeth over the tender flesh. “And the time after that.”

“You’ve made your point,” I gasp as he kisses the underside of my breast.

“Good.”

He frowns at something between our bodies. I raise my head to see him hardening again. The ache returns, swift and deep, as if I hadn’t just been made love to.

“As much as I would like to stay in bed the rest of the day…”

One last kiss to my lips and he stands, making quick work of getting dressed. I watch him, some of my pleasure ebbing away as his words come back to me.

We have all the time we need.

Something seems to have shifted between us. Some of the tenderness we experienced that first night together has returned, deepened by the intimacy of the connection we now share. As he pulls his shirt over his head, I can’t help but wonder if something has changed for Michail, too.

Because I know, no matter how much I want to deny it, that those feelings I ran from five months ago are spreading, lodging themselves into the very fiber of my being.

Whether he will return those feelings, or at the very least trust me, remains to be seen.