Katrakis's Last Mistress by Caitlin Crews Read Free Book Online Page A

clothes?”
    “You are dressed to meet someone’s mother,” he replied easily. “It is entirely too conventional and inoffensive.”
    “You prefer…offensive garments?” Her jaw tensed, that strong little chin lifting. “I wish you had mentioned that yesterday. I’m afraid I packed clothes more in keeping with your reputation for exquisite taste.” Those challenging brows rose again. “My mistake.”
    “I prefer as few garments as possible,” Nikos said silkily. “Exquisite or otherwise.” He let one hand trail along her spine, tracing the contour of it, the shallow valley below and the ridge of it above. “Skin, Tristanne,” he whispered, close to the tempting hollow of her ear, and smiled when she shivered in helpless response. “I want to see skin.”
    Her lips parted, though no sound emerged. Nikos smiled. She might be here for any number of reasons—and he would find her out, of that he was certain. But in the meantime, there was this chemistry between them, so surprising and electrifying. He had no intention of ignoring it. He would use it, he told himself, to make his revenge upon her—and her family—all the more devastating. It was a tool, that was all.
    “When you enter a room, you must always come to me,” he continued, his voice a low murmur. One hand tangled in her hair, while the other continued its lazy exploration of her back, flirting with the hem of her blouse, teasing the bandof flesh exposed between the top of her trousers and the shirt’s tail. “You should assume that you will sit on my lap, not your own chair, unless I tell you otherwise.” He pressed his lips to the curve of her ear, then traced a pattern with his lips and tongue along the length of her fine cheekbone. She shuddered.
    “I understand,” she said, but her voice was the faintest whisper of sound. Her dark lashes covered her eyes, and her face was flushed. He could feel the electric current that moved through her body, making her tense and vibrate against him.
    “And you should greet me, always, with a kiss,” he whispered, and then took her mouth with his.
    Once again, that treacherous fire swept through Tristanne, reducing her to ruins.
    She was nothing but need and yearning, gasping against his mouth yet held deliciously immobile in his strong arms. She nearly forgot herself as his lips claimed hers, tangled and teased and beguiled. She wanted to forget herself.
    But that was the one thing she must never, ever do.
    Tristanne leaned back, breaking off the kiss and daring to look down at Nikos, to meet his gaze full-on. His eyes were molten gold, dark with a passionate heat that made her sex pulse in response. His mouth, so wicked and masterful, curled into the slightest of smiles.
    “Thank you for the lesson,” Tristanne said. Her voice was the breathiest thread of sound—completely insubstantial—and told them both far more about her frenzied state than she would ever have wished to share. How could he do this to her so easily? Some part of her had thought—hoped—that yesterday’s explosive passion had been an accident of some kind—an anomaly. But this was not the time to agonize over it. There was nothing to do but brazen her way through such an unexpected obstacle.
    She must not succumb to passion. Hadn’t that been how her mother had thrown herself into her father’s power in the first place? Tristanne would not be so stupid.
    “Has it ended?” His gaze dropped from hers to trace her mouth, and his fingers spread against the exposed skin of her lower back. She fought off a shudder of reaction, but couldn’t keep the heat from her face.
    “Of course,” she said, pretending that she could not feel the heat between them—or in any case, did not care. She leaned back slightly. Barbery ice , she reminded herself, with some desperation. “We already have an idea of how well we suit in this area. There are so many other areas yet to explore.”
    “Again, Tristanne, I believe you miss the