His Mistress for a Million by Trish Morey Page B

now.’
    And he angled her upturned face and dipped his own until his lips met hers. Fear held her rigid, that and a heart that had taken on a life of its own and threatened to jump out of her chest. But as his lips moved over hers, gentler than she’d imagined possible, gentle but, oh, so sure, she sighed into the kiss, participating, matching him.
    One hand scooped down her back, pressing her to him from chest to thigh, her nipples exquisitely sensitive to the chest that met hers, heat pooling low down between her thighs, making her more aware than she’d ever been of her own physical needs. They called to her now, announcing their presence with logicnumbing desperation until her knees, once stiff with shock, threatened to buckle under her. She trembled, reaching forhim, needing something to steady herself as his mouth wove some kind of magic upon her own.
    It was just a kiss. Tender almost, more gentle than she would ever expect this man to give, but, oh, so thorough in its impact. Her fingers tangled in his shirt, her fingertips drinking in the feel of the firm flesh beneath and she was sure she felt him shudder. Was this how a man felt, rock-hard and solid, as opposed to a boy? Kurt had claimed to be twenty-six and told her he worked out regularly, but his body had been white-bread soft and just as unsatisfying.
    But Andreas felt as if he’d been sculpted from marble, firm flesh over muscle and skin that felt like satin and her fingers itched to feel more. Ached to feel more.
    Then just as suddenly the kiss was over, his lips departing, and she was left bereft and breathless blinking up at him. He said nothing, just looked down at her, his dark eyes swirling with questions until a bubble of panic rose up inside her.
    Had he spotted her lack of experience? Would he change his mind and toss her out, now that she’d finally agreed to his terms?
    ‘I guess we have a deal,’ he surprised her by saying, before letting her go. ‘You might want to settle in. I have some work to do with the lawyers and I’ll arrange for the necessary papers to be drawn up.’
    ‘The papers?’ She’d just been kissed senseless and he expected her to suddenly know what he was talking about. ‘What papers?’
    ‘The contract. This is a business arrangement. I think we both need the assurance it will stay that way.’
    ‘Oh, of course.’ She nodded as if she understood completely. When what she knew about business law would fit through the eye of a needle. Which was what had got her into her mess with Kurt. A gentlemen’s agreement , he’d told her, and she’d beenfool enough to believe he was gentleman enough to honour the terms. So much for trust.
    Andreas clearly wasn’t into trust or gentlemen’s agreements, for which she should be thankful, even if it rubbed that he might not trust her. But if a contract meant she’d get her money and not get ripped off this time, she could live with it.
    A wave of exhaustion suddenly washed over her, the adrenaline rush of the last half-hour, the events of the last twenty-four hours, especially the emotional upheaval of the last four when she’d been wrenched from her bed, catching up with her. She needed sleep and she needed it badly. ‘Which way to my room?’
    He’d already pulled his cell phone from his pocket and made the connection. He looked up and frowned before turning away, a torrent of Greek pouring into the phone.
    Okay, so she’d find it by herself. She hauled her pack over her shoulder and aimed for one of the two doors she knew didn’t lead to the hallway outside. One of them would be her room for sure.
    She found a bedroom off the living room, a massive king-sized bed covered in almost a dozen pillows taking centre stage. She opened one cupboard and found a line of shirts and trousers hanging inside. Andreas’ wardrobe, then. She took another door that led into a massive marble bathroom, complete with bath, shower and bidet, and then took another door out, only to find