He was Greek—a man of surprisingly simple tastes. He valued his family, his friends and his culture, which included good food, good drink and great sex. He wouldn’t apologize for enjoying sex, either, or enjoying his wife’s beautiful body. What did she expect him to do? Pretend he didn’t like sex? Act as though he didn’t find pleasure in her warmth and softness?

Back in Athens after the honeymoon, Drakon had tried to be the husband she wanted. He stopped reaching for her quite as often, and then when he did reach for her, he changed the way he touched her, holding back to keep from overwhelming her. He knew she didn’t like it when he expressed hunger, or focused too much on her pleasure, and so instead of just being with her, and enjoying her, he practiced control and distance, hoping that a less passionate husband would be more to her liking.

Instead she’d left.

And just remembering how he’d turned himself inside out trying to please her, trying to give her what she wanted, made him angry all over again now.

He’d hated second-guessing himself back then, hated not being able to please her, hated failing as a husband.

His gaze swept over her, slowly, critically, examining her as if he owned her, and he did … at least for a few more weeks.

“Undress,” he said roughly, feeling raw and so very carnal, and liking it. Enjoying it. “I want to see my wife. It doesn’t seem like too much to ask for, not after giving you seven million dollars.”

One of her eyebrows lifted. “At least you didn’t mention the four hundred million.”

“That was to your father, not to you.”

“I wonder what he had to do for four hundred million.”

“You think I should have asked for some sexual favors, do you?”

“You like sex a lot.”

“I liked it with you a lot.” He suddenly reached down, palmed his erection through his trousers, and he saw her gaze settle on his shaft, measuring the length and size.

Dark pink color stormed her cheeks and she licked her lower lip, once and again, before finding her voice. “That’s obscene,” she whispered.

“You did it a moment ago.”

“You made me.”

“You liked it. But you’ll tell me you didn’t. You’ll tell me sex is disgusting. You’ll tell me I’m disgusting, but if I touched you now, my woman, you’d be dripping wet—”

“Disgusting.”

“And I’d open you and lick you and taste you and make you come.” His head cocked and he shoved his hands in his trouser pockets. “When is the last time you came? How long has it been since you had an orgasm? A day? A week? A month?”

“It’s none of your business.”

“I did it in the shower yesterday, before you arrived. Stroked myself as I thought about you, picturing your breasts and your pale thighs and how much I enjoy being between them.”

“Is there any point to this, Drakon? Or do you just wish to humiliate me?”