CHAPTER FOUR

CASTOR’S SMOKY AMBER gaze burned from beneath dark, gold-streaked lashes, making it difficult for Glory to look at him without her breath catching.

He was just too...male, too beautiful. Too much of everything.

Why did you ever think you could handle him?

She had no idea. What she did know was that agreeing to this preposterous idea was a terrible mistake.

Yet, what else could she do? She’d come here for Annabel and the thought of leaving empty-handed was impossible. She had no other ideas about how to get the money Annabel needed. This was it.

And you want him too, don’t deny it.

Okay, so she did. But that thought scared her. He scared her. Not that he would hurt her, not when he’d had plenty of opportunity to take what he wanted from her and hadn’t. No, it was more about how fast her heart was beating and how tight her skin felt.

How she’d argued with him instead of apologising and hadn’t immediately done what he’d said without protest.

How hot her cheeks were when he’d talked to her about kissing her and about how she might kiss him in return.

She couldn’t even imagine it.

Can’t you? Can’t you imagine getting up and moving over to him. Bending and kissing that beautiful mouth...

Her face flamed.

He tilted his head slightly, obviously taking note. ‘What are you thinking about? Something nice? Perhaps something to do with me?’

‘No. No, I—’

‘Well?’ One corner of his mouth lifted. ‘Are you going to give me a chance to show you? Or are we going to do this at another time?’

‘This?’ Her brain wouldn’t work. Nothing seemed to work, not with him staring at her like that.

‘We need to be comfortable with each other.’ His voice deepened into something that resembled a purr. ‘Which means you’re going to have to get used to me being close. I understand that this might be too soon, so if you don’t want to do this now, we can leave it a couple of days.’

Him being close. The very idea of it...

I could hold your hand...tilt your head back...just a light brush across your lips...

She could almost feel it too, the press of his mouth to hers. It sent sparks cascading all over her skin.

No, this was insane. She was letting him get to her far too easily. She needed to pull herself together, not sit there staring at him with her mouth open like a landed fish.

And being totally practical about it, he wasn’t wrong. She did have to get used to him being close, especially if he wanted it to look real. So perhaps she should stop thinking about it and just do it. Get it over with. Besides, a kiss was the very least thing she’d thought she’d end up having to deal with tonight.

‘No,’ she said, then cleared her throat and said it again. ‘No. Tonight will be fine.’

He shifted, a subtle movement that drew her attention to the length of his muscular body. To the white cotton of his shirt pulling tight over the width of his wide shoulders and broad chest, and the wool of his trousers constricting around his powerful thighs.

Oh, holy...

‘Are you sure?’ His voice wrapped around her like warm velvet. ‘Like I said, we can wait a day or two if you’d rather.’

He’s putting it on, all this charm. You know that, right? He’s trying to seduce you.

The thought caught at her like a thorn and she glanced at him, looking past the blinding charisma, directly into the dark amber of his gaze.

And she expected to see the same cold deliberation she’d seen when he’d smiled at her initially, how the warmth didn’t touch his eyes.

She was even bracing herself for it.

But it came as a shock to find it wasn’t there. Neither was the warmth. Instead there was something far hotter, an ember of that fierceness she’d seen lurking beneath the surface of his charm. An intensity that made her throat close.

Why though? And what did it mean? Was he attracted to her?

It seemed impossible that a man of his beauty and power could feel anything at all for an ordinary woman like her, yet she couldn’t get rid of the thought. It made her feel good. Made her feel...strong. As if, perhaps, she might be able to handle him after all.

‘No,’ she said slowly, staring back at him. ‘I think tonight is good.’

Then she pushed herself to her feet.

He watched her a moment, then slowly did the same, rising to his full height in a graceful, athletic movement.

Scraping together the remains of her courage, Glory took a couple of steps in his direction, then stopped, her heart thumping.

Amusement filled his gaze and it was genuine. ‘You’ll have to come closer than that, mikri alepou.’

Little fox...

She’d never had a nickname. Never had anyone use an endearment. Annabel called her ‘Glor’ sometimes, and that was okay, but it didn’t make her shiver the way she shivered when Castor murmured in Greek.

‘Yes, I do know that, thank you,’ she said, then immediately felt bad for sounding cross. ‘Sorry. That was rude.’

‘You’re very polite, aren’t you?’

‘Of course. It costs nothing and it makes people happy.’

‘You like making people happy?’

‘It’s better than making them sad. There’s enough sadness in this world already.’ She wiped her palms surreptitiously against her thighs. ‘So, what should I do first?’

‘I think I suggested holding your hand.’ He held his out, a hint of challenge in his eyes. ‘Please tell me you’ve at least held hands with someone before.’

‘No,’ she said, because why bother lying?

The heat in his eyes wavered a second and he frowned, as if her answer had personally offended him somehow. ‘What? Why the hell not?’

‘Because I never met anyone I liked enough, I told you.’ And it was true, she hadn’t. Not when every single man she’d ever met had seemed to pale into insignificance compared to the Castor Xenakis she’d read about in her magazines.

‘I see,’ he said, sounding sceptical. ‘Well, it’s nothing to be afraid of.’ He held his hand out more insistently. ‘Come, mikri alepou.’

This was silly. If she couldn’t even get up the courage to hold his hand, then how was she ever supposed to pretend to be his new bride?

Why did you ever think you could do this at all? It was a stupid idea and you know it, and Annabel would be appalled. You’re just going to create more problems for her, like you always do...

No. No, that wasn’t true. She was going to help her sister and if holding hands with this man, if marrying him, was what she had to do, then she’d do it.

Glory took a silent breath, lifted her chin and reached for his hand.

And all the breath left her lungs as his long, strong fingers closed around hers.

His skin was warm, his grip firm, and it was strange, but the second he closed her hand in his, something inside her relaxed at the same moment as something else gave a little thrum of excitement.

She blinked at the sensation and stared at him, searching his beautiful face, wanting to know if he felt it too.

His expression was opaque and even though he seemed relaxed, there was a tension to him. She took a step closer, curious to know what was going on, but his lashes swept down, veiling his gaze. ‘And now,’ he murmured. ‘I’m going to put my arm around you and pull you in close.’

Before she had a chance to move, he lifted his other hand, sliding his arm around her waist and drawing her into his side.

She tensed, waiting to feel uneasy at being so close to him. Yet the unease didn’t come. Instead there was only a restless heat and a fluttering excitement that crowded in her throat.

Because beneath his lashes, his gaze had turned smokier, brighter gold glinting in the amber depths, a glimpse of the wolf.

The excitement fluttered harder, that rebellious part of her liking that she could rouse the predator in him. A scary thought, yet also thrilling.

Did he feel this too, then? This heat? This excitement? Or was it all only her?

Castor drew her in closer until she was barely inches away. He towered over her, all wide shoulders, broad chest and hard, masculine strength, and she should have felt threatened by it, but she didn’t. She felt safe and almost...protected, which was a strange thing to feel when this man’s reputation had him being a predator of the worst kind.

He smelled warm, of that exotic spice, and for absolutely no reason that she could see her mouth watered.

She blinked up at him, fascinated by that wolfish glint in his eyes.

‘How is this?’ His voice was soft and deep, a caress of rough velvet.

‘G-good,’ she stuttered breathlessly.

He kept his gaze on hers as he slowly lifted her hand and brought it to rest on his chest, holding it there in his own warm grip.

She took another shaky breath, aware of the warm cotton of his shirt and, beneath that, the rock-hard plane of his chest.

‘And this?’ He looked down at her, gauging her reaction.

She’d never been this close to a man before, let alone this man. Never had his arm around her waist, one palm resting gently in the small of her back, while his other hand held hers to his chest. Never been pressed lightly against the length of a hard, masculine body, never felt his heat.

She’d fantasised a little about what it would feel like to have him touch her—nothing beyond a few light kisses since she’d found the thought of anything else too overwhelming—but the reality was...different. So much hotter. So much more exciting.

If you feel like this now, what will a kiss do to you?

Oh, nothing but destroy her in the best possible way.

‘It’s good,’ she whispered, because it was, and this time she didn’t stutter at all.

Castor released her hand, but kept holding her. ‘Now, what did I say I’d do? Oh, yes... I lift your chin and tilt your head back.’

There was a warm fingertip beneath her chin, exerting a light pressure, easing her head back so she was looking directly up into that fascinating dark golden gaze of his.

It was obvious now, that fierce glitter. That...hunger, and for some reason it was fixating on her. She didn’t know why. What there was about her, plain old Glory Albright, a checkout girl in a tiny grocery store, that made him, one of the most notorious playboys in the world, look at her like that.

Whatever it was though, it terrified her. It also left her trembling with excitement and a hunger that came from somewhere deep inside. A hunger that was entirely selfish, and not at all quiet or polite. A hunger for what came next, because she knew what that was. He’d told her. A kiss.

She quivered, waiting.

Except he didn’t move, his gaze glinting gold.

Glory took a breath, then another. But still he waited. And a surge of impatience went through her. Because she didn’t know why he was holding back and she didn’t want him to.

He was so very close. All she’d have to do to reach that beautiful mouth would be to go up on her tiptoes. It wasn’t far, not very far at all...

She’d come here for Annabel, it was true. Yet right in this moment it wasn’t Annabel she was thinking about, but herself and what she wanted.

She was thinking about all those months of obsession and desire for something she could never have. About how she could have that now if only she had the courage. And she did have it. That’s why she was still here after all.

So Glory rose up on her toes and pressed her mouth to his.

He went very still.

His lips were warm and softer than she’d expected, and they felt as amazing against hers as she thought they would. He smelled delicious and she was fascinated by the heat seeping through the cotton of his shirt and into her hand. Was he as hot like that everywhere? Was he as hard?

Her breathing was coming very fast and she wasn’t sure what to do next. How, exactly, did you kiss a man? She’d obviously seen kissing before on TV, but she was pretty sure that it wasn’t actually like that. You were supposed to do something with your tongue, weren’t you?

You idiot. You’re going to make a total ass of yourself.

A sudden wave of embarrassment at her own inexperience washed through her. Annabel had always told her she was too impulsive, that she needed to be more restrained, and this was in no way restrained.

He probably hated the kiss. He probably thought she was ridiculous and silly.

Blushing, Glory came down off her tiptoes. ‘Sorry,’ she muttered and tried to pull away.

Except he didn’t let her go. If anything his grip on her firmed, holding her right where she was.

‘Glory, look at me.’ His voice had gone very deep and even rougher than before, and this time there was an unmistakable command in it.

She didn’t want to look at him, didn’t want to see what she knew was going to be distaste in his expression, but she was helpless to resist the command.

His eyes had gone a deep, brilliant shade of gold. ‘Kiss me again, mikri alepou.’

Castor stayed very still, every instinct screaming at him to let her go. That this was a mistake. This was all a mistake. And he’d known it the moment he’d taken her hand.

Her skin had felt so soft and warm, her hand small, fitting his palm to perfection. And she’d looked at him with such wide eyes, as if holding his hand had been the most amazing experience of her life.

Drawing her closer had felt natural and even with his instincts telling him not to, he hadn’t been able to stop. He had to anyway, he’d told himself. They couldn’t pretend to be in love without touching each other and she needed to be comfortable with him.

Now he was touching her, holding her, and she’d just about brought him to his knees with an expected kiss.

He couldn’t believe it. It had hardly even been a kiss. And he wasn’t sure why he’d responded to it so powerfully, yet the moment her soft mouth had pressed to his he’d felt as if she’d lit him with a match and he was about to go up in flames.

Chemistry, of course, though why he should have it with this sweet little innocent who had no idea how to even kiss properly was a complete mystery.

As was why he was still holding her when he was close to breaking point.

As was also why he’d commanded her to kiss him again, as if another kiss was the answer to this dilemma.

Wonder glowed in her eyes as she looked up at him, her cheeks fiery with her blush, her freckles like stars scattered over her skin.

He’d thought her plain initially, yet now he was struggling to understand why when it was so obvious that she wasn’t plain in the slightest. Unusual, yes, but not plain. Not with that creamy skin and those dark, velvety eyes. That determined chin and that full little mouth.

She gave him a worried look. ‘Are you sure?’

He could see her pulse at the base of her throat. It was beating fast yet she wasn’t scared. She’d been scared before, when he’d brought her in here, but she wasn’t now.

She was warm in his arms, her soft curves pressing deliciously against his hard angles, her scent very feminine, sweet and citrusy. Was that her perfume? Body lotion? He liked it very much.

‘Kiss me,’ he said roughly, the impatience he’d been struggling to deal with getting the better of him. ‘Now.’

‘But I’m not very good at—’

He took her mouth again before she could finish and all thought left his head.

She didn’t resist and automatically he firmed his grip on her chin and took control, at first staying still to let her get used to the feeling, before he moved his mouth on hers slowly, showing her how it was done.

She’d stilled, and not, he thought, out of shock, but as if she was simply waiting for more. So he gave her more.

His tongue touched her lips in a brief taste. And then a couple more times. Touching the corner of her mouth and then the centre, before following the line of her lower lip. Then a few butterfly kisses, light brushes of his mouth on hers, tantalising her.

She trembled, her breath catching.

His hunger growled, but he ignored it. For some inexplicable reason he was close to the edge and he refused to let himself go over, not for one kiss given to him by a virgin.

No, he’d go carefully, show her a little more and then pull back. This was her first kiss after all, if what she’d told him was correct, and there was no point in scaring her.

But then Glory blew all his plans out of the water.

She slid both her arms around his neck and opened her mouth beneath his.

Heat engulfed him, the fire she’d lit leaping high, and slow and careful and gentle went abruptly out the window.

He pushed his tongue into her mouth, kissing her hard, chasing the sweet taste of her and finding yet more heat, yet more sweetness. He began to explore, hunger building inside him, and before he knew what was happening, his hands were where they’d wanted to be since she’d first thrown off that ridiculous cloak, buried deep in her hair. It was as soft as he’d imagined, like raw silk.

He closed his fingers in it, tugging her head back further, tasting her deeper as heat expanded between them. She melted, pressing all those soft, lush curves against him, making a desperate little sound, as if she wanted to get even closer to him, but still wasn’t close enough.

In the back of his mind, something screamed at him that he was making an even bigger mistake, but somehow it got lost under the sudden explosion of desire that was pulsing through him. The desire to push her up against the wall, drag up the hem of her dress and bury himself inside her. Lose himself and forget for a few brief minutes the mission that consumed his every waking thought and the loss that wouldn’t leave him alone.

Her arms tightened and he was achingly aware that the soft heat between her thighs was pressing against the front of his trousers. Against his aching sex. It made him growl deep in his throat, made him let go of her hair and put a hand to the small of her back, fitting her more firmly against him.

She sighed into his mouth, kissing him back, still inexperienced, yet bolder now, with a sweet edge of demand that made him want to give her everything she was asking for.

Then she gave a little gasp, wriggling against him, and he realised with sudden shock that he had pushed her up against the wall. But she wasn’t wriggling to get away, she was wriggling to get closer, pressing herself against him in a way he knew well.

She wanted him. She was desperate for him.

You can’t do this. You can’t take her. Where the hell is your control?

He didn’t know. Somehow it was gone. One young, inexperienced and ordinary young woman had made it disappear with a kiss.

Appalled at himself, Castor grabbed what was left of it—and it was disturbing how much strength even that took—and let her go, shoving himself away from her.

He was breathing hard—too hard—and before he knew what he was doing, he’d put a hand through his hair and had begun adjusting his clothing like a prim Regency miss who’d just been taken advantage of.

Glory was leaning against the wall, her eyes dark, her cheeks flushed, her mouth full and red from the effects of that kiss.

She looked shell-shocked and he was gripped by a sudden, sickening doubt that she hadn’t wanted this, that he’d taken advantage of her, that the company he kept had stained him irretrievably and he couldn’t be trusted.

Yet before he could get a word out, she said, ‘I’m so sorry, Castor. I shouldn’t have done that.’

For a second he could only stare at her, not understanding what she was apologising for when all of this had been his fault.

‘Why are you sorry?’ He knew he should temper his voice, make it gentle, make it warm and charming. But there was no charm left in him. ‘I shouldn’t have pushed you up against the wall, and I shouldn’t have asked for that kiss. And I should be the one apologising.’

Glory looked stricken. ‘Why? What happened? Did I do it wrong? It was probably terrible. I’ve never kissed anyone before so no wonder—’

‘Wait.’ He held up a hand, trying to understand what on earth she was talking about. ‘What do you mean “it was probably terrible”?’

She was making small fluttering gestures with her hands as if she didn’t know what to do with them. ‘I...well... It’s just that it was no wonder you pushed me away. I’m not very good at this.’

‘You think I ended the kiss because it was terrible?’

Her cheeks had gone even redder, making those pretty freckles stand out. ‘Isn’t that why? You didn’t want my...uh...what I was trying to sell you earlier and then I just kind of k-kissed you and—’

‘Stop,’ he ordered and even though he knew it was probably better for both of them if he let her believe he hadn’t been moved by that kiss, he couldn’t lie to her like that. ‘Let me be clear. I didn’t end that kiss because I wanted to. I ended that kiss because I wanted to keep going.’

Her mouth opened, her gaze wide and shocked, as if she didn’t quite believe what he was saying.

‘And now,’ he went on. ‘Since I have a fair few things to organise, I’ll let Corinna see you home. I’ll be in touch, Glory Albright.’

Then before she could speak, he turned and strode from the room.

Before he changed his mind and continued where they’d left off.