He cupped her small breast and kneaded it, sending delirious enjoyment arcing through her. She moaned.
He whispered in her ear, "Your desire for me is real, as is mine for you."
"Yes."
"The passion, it is here between us," he said in a thick Greek accent. "It is real."
"Yes," she repeated.
"Believe," he said and then kissed her again.
She wasn't sure what he meant, but she accepted his mouth and his touch, freely returning both. When he moved on top of her, she spread her thighs in blatant instinctive invitation. He maneuvered his shaft so it pressed against her silky, wet opening.
He stopped. Stopped moving. Stopped kissing her. Even stopped making those sexy male noises of pleasure that had been emitting from his throat.
Her eyes fluttered open and met a dark gaze intent on her.
"Do you accept me into your body?" he asked.
He had to know she wanted him, so this question meant something more, but she wasn't sure what. Only it didn't matter. Her answer was, "Yes."
He nodded as if sealing a pact and then pushed inside her.
Silken tissues stretched and her body absorbed him as if they had been created to fit together perfectly. She felt filled to capacity, yet instead of hurting…it felt good. Really, really good.
Feminine fear that had nothing to do with wanting to stop fluttered through her, but it did not decrease her arousal. It increased it, making her crave movement and total possession. "I want all of you."
"Can you take all of me?"
"I was made to." She wasn't sure what she was saying, but it felt right.
He rocked his pelvis forward, sliding further into her humid depths. Continuing the motion, he took her body slow inch by slow inch until his pelvic bone pressed against hers. Both sensations made her gasp.
He said something in Greek she didn't get.
She luxuriated in the feeling of oneness for a timeless moment. "I told you we would fit."
He husked a laugh. "Usually it is the man comforting the woman with that line."
"Is it?" she asked, not knowing and caring very little what the norm was between other men and women.
She knew only what was right between them and this was right. She tried to arch against him. "I need you to move."
And he did. So perfectly that tears washed into her eyes and leaked down her temples. He seemed to understand because he sipped at them and continued to make love to her as her body built toward a cataclysm of pleasure that was unlike anything she'd ever known.
Then something happened that was surely a miracle because his body went tense above hers at the same moment that she felt the explosion inside. He shouted. She cried out. And their bodies shuddered together in mutual abandon. He continued to move in small, caressing motions that drew the pleasure out for both of them.
Her body jerked with spasms of release while he groaned and bucked against her a few more times before collapsing on top of her in a heavy, but welcome heap.
His breath bellowed in her ear and her chest labored to draw air in. "That was amazing," she whispered, afraid of ruining the perfect moment with too much sound.
"Yes, it was," he rumbled against her neck, sending shivers along her oversensitive skin.
She turned her head and kissed the side of his face. "Thank you."
"The pleasure was as much or more mine."
"I'm glad you didn't say all yours."
"It would not be true."
She laughed softly at his arrogance, but fell silent quickly. He was so right. It would not be true. She'd never felt anything so wonderful. And she wanted to feel this again. And again. And again.
Which was why he had made love to her, wasn't it? To convince her that they were meant for each other. If not in love, in lust and in like.
"I am going to adore having you as my wife in my bed," he said, confirming his thoughts ran parallel in content if not intent to hers.
"That is not a done deal, yet, Nikos."
He leaned back to fix her with his "get serious" look. She'd seen it a few times before, but it was funny in their current situation and she couldn't help laughing again.