hen the doorbell rang, Jessica went very still. Nikolas put his hand on her waist and squeezed gently, then that hand urged her inexorably toward the door. Involuntarily she resisted the pressure and he looked down at her, his hard mouth curving into a dry smile. "Don't be such a little coward," he mocked. "I won't let the beasts eat you, so why not relax and enjoy it?"

Speechless, she shook her head. In the few days that she had known Nikolas Constantinos he had taken her life and turned it upside down, totally altered it. This morning he had given his secretary a list of people to call and invite to his penthouse that night, and naturally everyone had accepted. Who turned down Constantinos? At four o'clock that afternoon Nikolas had called Jessica and told her to dress for the evening, he would pick her up in two hours. She had assumed that they would be dining out again, and though she hadn't looked forward to it, she had realized the futility of resisting Nikolas. It wasn't until he had her at his penthouse that he had told her of his plans.

She was angry and resentful that he had done all of this without consulting her, and she had scarcely spoken to him since her arrival, which seemed to bother him not at all. But underneath her anger she was anxious and miserable. Though well aware that, with Nikolas backing her, no one would dare be openly cold or hostile, she was sensitive enough that it didn't really matter if their dislike was hidden or out in the open. She knew it was there, and she suffered. It didn't help that Nikolas''s secretary, Andros, was there, his contempt carefully hidden from Nikolas but sneeringly revealed to her whenever Nikolas wasn't looking. It had developed that Andros was a second cousin to Nikolas, so perhaps he felt he was secure in his position.

"You're too pale," observed Nikolas critically, pausing with his hand on the handle to open the door. He bent and kissed her, hard, deliberately letting her feel his tongue, then straightened away from her and opened the door before she could react in any way other than the delicate flush that rose to her cheeks.

She wanted to kick him, and she promised herself that she would have his hide for his arrogant action, but for now she steeled herself to greet the small clusters of people who were arriving. Stealing a glance at Nikolas, she saw that his hard masculine lips wore a light coat of her lipstick and she blushed anew, especially when several of the sharp-eyed women noted it also, then darted their glances to her own lipstick as if matching the shades. Then he stretched out one strong hand and pulled her closer to his side, introducing her as his "dear friend and business partner, Jessica Stanton." The dear friend description brought knowing expressions to many faces, and Jessica thought furiously that he might as well have said "chere amie," for that was how everyone was taking it. Of course, that was Nikolas's intention, but she did not plan to fall meekly in with his desires. When the second half of his introduction sank in, everyone immediately became very polite where for a moment she had sensed a direct snub. Chere amie was one thing, but business partner was another. He had made it obvious, with only a few well-chosen words, that he would take any insult to Jessica as an insult to himself.

To her surprise and discomfiture, Nikolas introduced one tall, smartly dressed blonde as a columnist, and by the pressure of his fingers she knew that this was the gossip columnist who had written that vicious little bit about her for the Sunday paper. She greeted Amanda Waring with a calm manner that revealed nothing, though it took all of her self-control to manage it. Miss Waring glared at her for a fraction of a second before assuming a false smile and mouthing all of the conventional things.

Her attention was jerked back to Nikolas by the spectacle of a stunning redhead sliding a silken arm about his muscular neck and stretching up against him to kiss him slowly on the mouth. It wasn't a long kiss, nor a deep one, but nevertheless it fairly shouted of intimacy. Jessica went rigid as an unexpected and unwelcome flame of jealousy seared her. How dare that woman touch him! She quivered and barely restrained herself from jerking the woman away from him, but if Nikolas himself hadn't released the woman's arm from his neck and stepped back from her, she might still have created a scene. The glance Nikolas gave her was as apologetic as one could expect from him, but the effect was ruined by the gleam of amusement in the midnight depths of his eyes.

Deliberately Nikolas drew his handkerchief out of his pocket and wiped the redhead's coral-beige lipstick from his mouth, something he hadn't done when he had kissed Jessica. Then he took Jessica's hand and said, "Darling, I'd like you to meet an old friend, Diana Murray. Diana, Jessica Stanton."

Lovely dark blue eyes turned on Jessica, but the expression in them was savage. Then the soft lips parted in a smile. "Ah, yes, I do believe I've heard of you," Diana purred.

Beside her, Jessica felt Nikolas turn as still as a waiting panther. She tightened her fingers on his hand and responded evenly, "Have you? How interesting," and turned to be introduced to Diana's escort, who had been watching with a guarded expression on his face, as if he didn't want to become involved.

Despite Nikolas's bombshell, or perhaps because of it, the room was fairly humming with conversation. Andros was moving from group to group, quietly taking over some of the duties of the host, thereby freeing Nikolas for the most part. For a while Nikolas steered Jessica about from one small knot of people to another, talking easily, bringing her into the conversations and making it obvious by his possessive hand on her arm or the small of her back that she was his, and had his support. Then, callously, she felt, he left her on her own and went off to talk business.

For a moment she was panic-stricken and she looked about, hunting for a corner seat. Then she met Andros's cold, smiling look and knew that he expected her to make a fool of herself. She took a firm grip on her wavering nerves and forced herself to approach a small group of women who were laughing and discussing a current comedy play. It wasn't until she had joined the group that she saw it contained Amanda Waring. Immediately a little silence fell over the women as they looked at her, assessing her position and wondering just how far good manners went.

She lifted her chin and said in a calm voice, "Isn't the lead role played by that actress Penelope something-or-other who was such a smash in America last year?"

"Penelope Durwin," supplied a plumpish, middle-aged woman after a moment. "Yes, she was nominated for their best-actress award, but she seems to like live theater better than films."

"Aren't you an American?" asked Amanda Waring in a velvet little voice, watching Jessica with her icy eyes.

"I was born in America, yes," said Jessica. Was this to become an interview?

"Do you have any plans to return to America to live?"

Jessica stifled a sigh. "Not at this time; I like England and I'm content here."

Conversation ceased for a stiff moment, then Amanda broke the silence again. "Have you known Mr. Constantinos long?" Whatever Amanda's personal feelings, she was first and foremost a columnist, and Jessica was good copy. More—Jessica was fantastic copy! Aside from her own notorious reputation, she was apparently the current mistress of one of the world's most powerful men, an elusive and sexy Greek billionaire. Every word that Jessica said was newsworthy.

"No, not for long," Jessica said neutrally, and then a different voice broke into the circle.

"With a man like Nikolas, it doesn't take long, does it, Mrs. Stanton?" purred a soft, openly hostile voice. Jessica quivered when she heard it and turned to look at Diana, meeting the woman's impossibly lovely blue eyes.

For a long moment Jessica looked at her quietly and the silence became so thick that it was almost suffocating as they all waited to see if a scene would develop. Jessica couldn't even summon up anger to help her; if anything, she pitied this gorgeous creature who watched her with such bright malice. Diana so obviously adored Nikolas, and Jessica knew how helpless a woman was against his charm, and his power. When the silence was almost unbearable, she replied gently, "As you say," and turned back to Amanda Waring. "We met for the first time this past Saturday," she said, giving the woman more information than she had originally intended, but she would be foolish to let the woman's antagonism live when she could so easily put it down.

Her ploy worked. Miss Waring's eyes lit, and hesitantly the other women rejoined the conversation, asking Jessica if she had any plans to visit Mr. Constantinos on his island. They had heard it was fabulous; was he leaving England soon; was she going with him? In the midst of answering their questions Jessica saw Diana leave the group, and she gave an inward sigh of relief, for she had felt that the woman was determined to provoke a scene.

After that, the evening was easier. The women seemed to unbend a little as they discovered that she was a rather quiet, perfectly well-behaved young woman who did not act in the least as if she coveted their husbands. Besides, with Nikolas Constantinos to control her, they certainly felt safe. Though he kept himself to the knot of men discussing business, every so often his black eyes would slide to Jessica's slim figure, as if checking on her. Certainly his alert gaze convinced any unattached male that it would be wise not to approach her.

Only once, when Jessica slipped away for a moment to check her hair and makeup, did she feel uneasy. She saw Diana talking very earnestly to Andros, and even as she watched, Andros flicked her a cool, contemptuous look that chilled her. She hurried away to Nikolas's bedroom and stood for a moment trying to calm her accelerated heartbeat, telling herself that she shouldn't be alarmed by a look. Heavens, she should be accustomed to such looks!

A knock on the door made her shake off her misgivings and she turned to open the door. Amanda Waring stood there. "May I disturb you?" she asked coolly.

"Yes, of course; I was just checking my hair," said Jessica, standing back for the woman to enter. She noticed Amanda looking around sharply at the furnishings, as if expecting black satin sheets and mirrors on the ceilings. In fact, Nikolas was rather spartan in his tastes and the large bedroom seemed almost bare of furniture. Of course, the huge bed dominated the room.

"I wanted to speak with you, Mrs. Stanton," began Amanda. "I wanted to assure you that nothing you said will be repeated in my column; Mr. Constantinos has made it clear that my job hangs in the balance, and I'm not a fool. I stand warned."

Jessica gasped and swung away from the mirror where she had been smoothing her hair. Horrified, she stared at Amanda, then recovered herself enough to say frostily, "He did what?"

Amanda's thin mouth twisted. "I'm sure you know," she said bitterly. "My editor told me this morning that if another word about the Black Widow appeared in my column, it would not only mean my job, I would be blacklisted. It took only a phone call from Mr. Constantinos to the publisher of the newspaper to accomplish that. Congratulations, you've won."

Jessica's lips tightened and she lifted her chin proudly. "I must apologize for Nikolas, Miss Waring," she said in calm, even tones, determined not to let this woman guess her inner turmoil. "I assure you that I didn't ask him to make the gesture. He has no use for subtlety, has he?"

In spite of the coldness in the woman's eyes, her lips quirked a bit in humor. "No, he hasn't," she agreed.

"I'm sorry he's been so nasty. I realize you have a job to do, and of course I'm fair game," Jessica continued. "I'll have to talk with him—"

The door opened and Nikolas walked in, staring coldly at Amanda Waring. "Miss Waring," he said forbiddingly.

Immediately Jessica knew that he had seen the columnist enter the room after her and had come to her rescue. Before he could say anything that would alienate the woman even more, she went to him and said coolly, "Nikolas, have you really threatened to have Miss Waring dismissed if she prints anything about me?"

He looked down at her and his lips twisted wryly. "I did," he admitted, and his glance slashed to Amanda. "I won't have her hurt again," he said evenly, but his tone was deadly.

"I'm perfectly capable of taking care of myself, thank you, Nikolas," Jessica said tartly.

"Of course you are," he said indulgently, as if she was a child.

Furious, Jessica reached out for his hand and dug her nails into it. "Nikolas—no. I won't stand by and watch you throw your weight around for my benefit. I'm not a child or an idiot; I'm an adult, and I won't be treated as if I don't have any sense!"

Little gold flames lit the blackness of his eyes as he looked down at her, and he covered her hand with his free one, preventing her nails from digging into him any longer. It could have looked to be a loving gesture, but his fingers were hard and forceful and held hers still. "Very well, darling," he murmured, carrying her hand to his mouth. After pressing a light kiss on her fingers, he raised his arrogant black head and looked at Amanda.

"Miss Waring, I won't mind if your column mentions that the lovely Jessica Stanton acted as my hostess, but I won't tolerate any more references to the Black Widow, or to Mrs. Stanton's financial status. For your information, we have just completed a business deal that was very favorable to Mrs. Stanton, and she has not, is not, and never will be in need of funds from anyone else."

Amanda Waring was not a woman to be easily intimidated. She lifted her chin and said, "May I quote you on that?"

Suddenly Nikolas grinned. "Within reason," he said, and she smiled back at him.

"Thank you, Mr. Constantinos…Mrs. Stanton," she added after a moment, glancing at Jessica.

Amanda left the room and Nikolas looked down at Jessica with those little gold lights still dancing in his eyes. "You're a little cat," he drawled lazily. "Don't you know that now you'll have to pay?"

Not at all frightened, Jessica said coolly, "You deserved it, for acting like a bully."

"And you deserve everything you get, for being such a provocative little tease," he said, and effortlessly pulled her into his arms. She tried to draw away and found herself helpless against his iron strength.

"Let me go," she said breathlessly, trying to twist away from him.

"Why?" he muttered, bending his head to press his burning lips into the hollow of her shoulder. "You're in my bedroom, and it would take only a slight tug to have this gown around your ankles. Jessica, you must have known that this gown would heat the blood of a plaster saint, and I've never claimed to be that."

She would have been amused at his statement if the touch of his mouth on her skin hadn't sent ripples of pleasure dancing through her veins. She was glad that he liked her gown. It was provocative; she knew it and had worn it deliberately, in the manner of a moth flirting with the flame that will singe its wings. It was a lovely gown, made of chiffon in alternating panels of sea green and emerald, swirling about her slim body like waves, and the bodice was strapless, held up only by the delicate shirring above her breasts. Nikolas was right, one tug would have die thing off, but then, she hadn't planned on being alone with him in his bedroom. She saw his head bend down again and she turned her mouth away just in time. "Nikolas, stop it! You have guests; you can't just disappear into the bedroom and stay there!"

"Yes, I can," he said, capturing her chin with one strong hand and turning her mouth up to his. Before she could reply again he had opened his mouth over hers, his warm breath filling her. His tongue probed, teasing her into response, and after a moment she forgot her protests, going up on tiptoe to strain against his hard body and offer him completely the sweetness of her mouth. Without hesitation he took it, his kisses becoming wilder and deeper as he hungrily tasted her. He groaned into her mouth and his hand began to slide up her ribs. It wasn't until his strong fingers cupped one soft breast that she realized his intentions and once again cold fear put out the fires of her own desire. She shuddered and began trying to twist out of his embrace; his arm tightened painfully about her and he arched her slim body against him, his mouth ravaging.

Jessica stiffened and cried out hoarsely, "No, please!" He swore in Greek and pulled her back into his arms as she tried to get away from him, but instead of forcing his caresses on her, he merely held her tightly to him for a moment and she felt the thunderous pounding of his heart against her. "I won't force you," he finally said as he pressed kisses onto her temple. "You've had some bad experiences, and I can understand your fear. But I want you to understand, Jessica, that when you come to me, I won't leave you unsatisfied. You can trust me, darling."

Weakly she shook her head. "No, you don't understand," she muttered. "Nikolas, I—" She started to tell him that she had never made love, that it was fear of the unknown that made her shrink from him, but he laid a finger against her lips.

"I don't want to know," he growled. "I don't want to hear of another man's hands on you. I thought I could bear it, but I can't. I'm too jealous; I never want to hear you talk about another man."

Jessica shook her head. "Oh, Nikolas, don't be so foolish! Let me tell you—"

"No," he snapped, gripping her shoulders and shaking her violently.

Growing angry, Jessica jerked away from him and threw her head back. "All right," she rejoined tartly. "If you want to be such an ostrich, by all means go bury your head. It doesn't matter to me what you do!"

He glared at her for a moment, then his tense broad shoulders relaxed and his lips twitched with barely suppressed laughter. "It matters," he informed her mockingly. "You just haven't admitted it to yourself yet. I can see that I'll have to destroy your stubbornness as I'll destroy your fear, and in the same way. A few nights of lovemaking will turn you into a sweet, docile little kitten instead of a spitting wildcat."

Jessica stepped around him to the door, her tawny head high. As she opened the door, she turned and said coolly, "You're not only a fool, Nikolas, you're an arrogant fool."

His soft laughter followed her as she returned to the gathering, and she caught the knowing glances of several people. Diana looked furious, then turned her back in a huff. Sighing, Jessica wondered if Nikolas included Diana in many of his entertainments. She hoped not, but had the feeling that her hopes would be disappointed.

From that evening on, Nikolas completely took over her life. Almost every evening he took her to some small party or meeting, or out to dine in the poshest, most exclusive restaurants. She hardly had any free time to spend with Sallie, but that practical young woman was delighted that her friend was going out more and that no other vicious items about her had appeared in the press. Amanda Waring often mentioned Jessica's name in tandem with Nikolas's, and even hinted that the prolonged presence of the Greek in London was due entirely to the charms of Mrs. Stanton, but she made no mention of the Black Widow or of Jessica's reputation.

Even Charles was delighted that Nikolas had taken over, Jessica often thought broodingly. She felt as if a trusted friend had deserted her, thrown her into the lion's den. Didn't Charles really understand what Nikolas wanted of her? Surely he did; men were men, after all. Yet more and more it seemed that Charles deferred to Nikolas in decisions concerning her assets, and even though she knew that Nikolas was nothing short of a financial genius, she still resented his intrusion into her life.

She was bitterly disappointed but not really surprised when, shortly after Nikolas's takeover of her affairs, Charles gave her some papers to sign and told her they concerned minor matters only. She had trusted him implicitly before, but now some instinct made her read carefully through the papers while Charles fidgeted. Most of the papers did concern matters of little importance, but included in the middle of the stack was the document selling her shares in ConTech to Nikolas for a ridiculously high price and not the market price she'd insisted on. Calmly she pulled the paper out and put it aside. "I won't sign this," she told Charles quietly.

He didn't have to ask what it was. He gave her a wry smile. "I was hoping you wouldn't notice," he admitted. "Jessica, don't try to fight him. He wants you to have the money; take it."

"I won't be bought," she told him, raising her head to give him a level look. "And that's what he's trying to do, buy me. Surely you have no illusions about his intent?"

Charles studied the tips of his impeccable shoes. "I have no illusions at all," he murmured. "That may or may not be a sad thing. Unvarnished reality has little to recommend it. However, being the realist I am, I know that you haven't a prayer of besting Constantinos in this. Sign the papers, my dear, and don't wake sleeping tigers."

"He's not sleeping," she mocked. "He's only lying in wait." Then she shook her head decidedly. "No, I won't sign the papers. I'd rather not sell the stock at all than let him think he's got me all bought and paid for— or I'll sell to a third party. At market price those shares will be snapped up in a minute."

"And so will you," Charles warned. "He doesn't want those stocks in anyone else's hands."

"Then he'll have to pay me market price." She smiled, her green eyes taking on a glint of satisfaction. Just once, she thought, she had the upper hand on Nikolas. Why hadn't she thought of threatening to sell the shares to a third party before now?

Charles left with the paper unsigned and Jessica knew that he would inform Nikolas immediately. She had an engagement with Nikolas that night to attend a dinner with several of his business associates, and she toyed with the idea of simply leaving town and standing him up rather than argue with him, but that would be childish and would only postpone the inevitable. She reluctantly showered and dressed, choosing with care a gown that didn't reveal too much of her; she knew that she could trust Nikolas's thin veneer of civilization only so far. Yet the modest gown was provocative in its own way, the stark severity of the black cloth against her pale gold skin a perfect contrast. Staring at her reflection in the mirror, she thought with wry bitterness of the Black Widow tag and wondered if anyone else would think of it.

As she had half-expected, Nikolas was a full half-hour early, perhaps hoping to catch her still dressing and vulnerable to him. When she opened the door to him, he stepped inside and looked down at her with such grimness in his black eyes that she was startled, even though she'd been expecting him to be angry.

The door was hardly closed behind him when he took her wrist and pulled her against him, dwarfing her with his size and strength. "Why?" he gritted softly, his head bent down so close to hers that his breath was warm on her face.

Jessica knew better than to struggle against him; that would only fan his anger. Instead, she made herself lie pliantly against him and answered him evenly, "I told you what I'd accept, and I haven't changed my mind. I have my pride, Nikolas, and I won't be bought."

The black eyes snapped angrily at her. "I'm not trying to buy you," he snarled, his hands moving to her slim back in a caressing movement that was the direct opposite of the anger she sensed in him. Then his arms wrapped about her, welding her to his hard frame, and he dipped his head even closer to press swift, light kisses on her upturned mouth. "I only want to protect you, to make you so secure that you'll never again have to sell your body, even in marriage."

Instantly she went rigid in his arms and she flashed him a glance that scorched. "Beware of Greeks bearing gifts," she retorted hotly. "What you mean is, you want to ensure that you're the only buyer!"

His arms tightened until she gasped for breath and pushed against his shoulders in protest. "I've never had to buy a woman!" he ground out between clenched teeth. "And I'm not buying you! When we make love, it won't be because money has passed between us but because you want me as much as I want you."

Desperately she turned her head away from his approaching mouth and gasped out, "You're hurting me!" Instantly his arms loosened their hold and she gulped in air, her head dropping to rest on his chest. Was there nothing she could say that would make him understand her point of view?

After a moment he put her away from him and drew a folded paper from the inner pocket of his jacket. Spreading it open, he placed it on the hall table and produced a pen, which he held out to her. "Sign it," he ordered softly.

Jessica put her hands behind her back in the age-old gesture of refusal. "Market value only," she insisted, her eyes holding his calmly. She played her last ace. "If you don't want them, I'm certain there are other buyers who would be glad to get those shares at market value."

He straightened. "I'm sure there are," he agreed, still in that soft, calm voice. "And I'm also certain that if you sell that stock to anyone but me, you'll regret it later. Why are you being so stubborn about money? The amount of money you sell the stock for will in no way influence the outcome of our relationship. That's already been decided."

"Oh, has it?" she cried, clenching her small fists in fury at his arrogance. "Why don't you just go away and leave me alone? I don't want anything from you, not your money, nor your protection, and certainly not you!"

"Don't lie to yourself," he said roughly, striding forward to lace his arms about her and hold her to him. She flung her head back to deny that she was lying; that was the only chance he needed. He bent his black head, and his mouth closed over hers. His kiss wasn't rough but moved seductively over her lips, inviting her response and devastating her, sucking away her breath and leaving her weak in his arms. Her eyes closed, her lips opened helplessly to his mastering tongue, and she let him kiss her as deeply as he wished until she lay limply against him. His tenderness was even more dangerous than his temper, because her response to him was growing more passionate as she became accustomed to him and she sensed her own capitulation approaching. He was no novice when it came to women, and he knew as well as she did that the need he stirred in her was growing stronger.

"Don't lie to me, either," he muttered against her mouth. "You want me, and we both know it. I'll make you admit it." His mouth came down again to fit completely against her lips, and he took full possession of them, molding them as he wanted. He began to touch her breasts, deliberately asserting his mastery over her, trailing his fingertips lightly over the upper curves and leaving a growing heat behind. Jessica made a whimpering sound of protest, muffled by his mouth; she gasped under his onslaught, searching desperately for air, and he gave her his heated breath. Now his hand slid boldly inside her gown and cupped the round curves in his palm. At his intimate caress, Jessica felt herself drowning in the sensual need he aroused, and she gave in with a moan, twining her arms around his neck.

Swiftly he bent and slid his arm under her knees, lifting her and carrying her to the lounge, where he placed her on the sofa and eased down beside her, never ceasing the drugging kisses which kept her under his sensual command. She moved restlessly, her hands in his hair, trying to get closer to him, aching with a need and emptiness which she didn't understand but couldn't ignore.

Triumph glittered in his eyes as he moved to cover her with his body, and Jessica opened her eyes briefly to read the look on his face, but she saw him through a haze of desire, her senses clouded. Nothing mattered right now, if only he would keep on kissing her…

His fingers had explored her satiny breasts, had teased the soft peaks into firm, throbbing proof of the effect he was having on her. Sliding his body down along hers, he investigated those tempting morsels with his lips and tongue, searing her with the heat of his mouth. Her hands left his head and moved to his shoulders, her fingers digging into the muscles which flexed with his every movement. Golden fire was spreading throughout her body, melting her, dissolving her, and she let herself sink into her own destruction. She wanted to know more, she wanted to have more of him, and she thought she would die from the pleasure he was giving her.

He left her breasts to move upward and kiss her mouth again, and now he let her feel the pressure of his entire body, the force of his arousal.

"Let me stay with you tonight," he breathed into her ear. "You want me, you need me, as much as I want and need you. Don't be afraid, darling; there's no need to be afraid. I'll take good care of you. Let me stay," he said again, though despite the soft words it wasn't a plea, but a command.

Jessica shuddered and squeezed her eyes tightly shut, her blood boiling through her veins in frustration. Yes, she wanted him—she admitted it—but he had some terrible ideas about her, and she found it hard to forgive him for that. As soon as he spoke, she began to recover her senses and remember why she didn't want to let him make love to her, and she turned her face away from his kisses.

If she let him make love to her, he would know as soon as he possessed her that he was wrong in his accusations; but she also knew in her bones that to go to "him under those circumstances would lower her to exactly what he thought her to be now, and her standards were too high to allow that. He offered nothing but physical gratification and material gain, while she offered a heart that had been battered and was now overly sensitive to each blow. He didn't want her love, yet she knew that she loved him, against all logic and her sense of self-preservation.

He shook her gently, forcing her eyes open, and he repeated huskily, "Will you let me stay, darling? Will you let me show you how sweet it will be between us?"

"No," she forced herself to reply, her voice hoarse with the effort she was making. How would he react to a denial at this stage? He had a violent temper; would he be furious? She stared up into his black gaze, and her fear was plain for him to read, though he couldn't guess the cause. "No, Nikolas. Not…not yet. I'm not ready yet. Please."

He drew a deep breath, mastering his frustration, and she collapsed in intense relief as she realized that he wasn't angry. Roughly he drew her head against his shoulder and stroked her hair, and she breathed in the hot male scent of his skin and let him comfort her. "You don't have to be afraid," he insisted in a low tone. "Believe me. Trust me. It has to be soon; I can't wait much longer. I won't hurt you. Just let me show you what it means to be my woman."

But she already knew, she thought in despair. His confident masculinity lured her despite her better sense. His lovemaking would be sweet and fiery, burning away her control, her defenses, leaving her totally helpless in the face of his marauding mastery. And when he was finished, when his attention was attracted by another challenge, she would be in ashes. But how long could she hold him off, when every day increased her need of him?