Читать книгу Irresistible Greeks: Unsuitable and Unforgettable: At His Majesty's Request / The Fallen Greek Bride / Forgiven but not Forgotten? - Эбби Грин, Jane Porter - Страница 15

ANYTHING he wanted turned out to be much more low-key and much less in bed than she’d imagined it might be.

Stavros took her on a tour of the ruins just outside the city, and then down to the open-air markets to shop. The market ran just outside the boundaries of the packed harbor, small stalls crammed between buildings, the ocean just beyond them.

Stavros could have taken her anywhere in Piraeus. To the more modern quadrants of the city, to exclusive boutiques with cutting-edge fashion.

But he’d taken her here. Because he knew what she liked. He understood what she enjoyed. She did her best to ignore her constricted lungs and turn her focus to the items for sale.

There was an eclectic mix of trash and truly exquisite treasure on offer. Things she would have found at an average yard sale in her home town, fresh seafood and antiques all mingled together. She bought a necklace fashioned from fishing line and glass beads, and earrings made from old coins.

“It’s certainly vintage,” Stavros said, eyeing her purchases later at an outdoor restaurant.

“Yes, most definitely.”

“You need a pallas to go with it.”

She pulled her necklace out of the bag and held it up so that the afternoon sun filtered through the glass beads. “All right, what’s that?”

“The traditional draped dress. It would look beautiful on you.”

“Not my typical style though, draped clothes.”

“No. Not at all.” Today she was in a full white skirt that went down past her knees and a red button-up top. All very crisp and tailored.

“It makes for an intriguing thought.”

“Yes, but you don’t like my clothes.”

“No, I like your clothes very much, it’s just that I find them a distraction. And now that I have permission to be distracted … well, I like them even more.”

Her cheeks heated. He made her feel … he made her feel so new. Like this was fresh. Flirting, and eating together. The anticipation of sex. And she was anticipating it. Big-time. She smiled and looked down at her plate.

She ignored the little hint of fear that pooled in her stomach. If she felt so close to him now, what would happen after? She really hadn’t ever been a fling girl. She’d been one and done. She’d met her husband right out of high school, and he was the man she’d married.

“What is it?” he asked.

“Nothing.”

He reached over and took her chin between his thumb and forefinger, tilting her face up. “What?”

It was hard meeting his eyes. Intimate, suddenly. “I’m happy. I haven’t … enjoyed anything like this in a long time.”

“I haven’t, either.”

“Stavros, why is this marriage so important to you?” She wasn’t sure where the question came from, only that it seemed essential, suddenly. “I mean, I know why you need to do it eventually. But it’s more than that, I can tell. I just … want to know why.”

He frowned. “I’m the only one, Jessica.”

“I know.”

“When Xander left, everything was chaos. My father was a wreck, my mother was gone. Eva was just a child. There was only me. My willingness to step in. I was a teenager, but just that show of strength and solidarity, and the years I spent after building up the economy, that made the difference. I need everything to be as it should be. I need it to have balance and order. I want it to.”

“And Victoria will help with that.”

“Victoria is only a piece of the puzzle. I’ve been setting all of this in place for years.”

“I know,” she said, looking away from him again. “Plans … I wish sometimes that some of mine had worked out. And sometimes … I’m glad they didn’t.”

Really, today was the first time she was honestly glad to be in a different place. With a different man. She hadn’t loved her ex for years. But very often she’d longed to go back to a time when she did love him.

A time when her life had been full of possibilities. Instead of a time when so many of her dreams had died.

“Mine have to work out,” he said. “For my people.”

“Has Xander officially abdicated?”

“No. And he won’t until after my father dies, which doesn’t look like it will be soon. I am thankful for that.”

“But you’re playing chess,” she said.

“What do you mean?”

“I actually suck at chess, but I have a brother who plays very well, and he used to talk me into playing when we were younger. I could never win, because I was always responding to his moves. He knew all of his moves from the beginning. And he had back-up maneuvers just in case I failed to be predictable, but mostly, he just followed the strategy he’d had since the opening move. You already know your checkmate.”

He laughed and placed his hand over hers, his thumb blazing a trail of heat over her skin as he moved it back and forth. “But this is a move I did not see making.”

“Do you regret it? Because we haven’t done anything we can’t take back.”

He shook his head. “I don’t. I should, I’m certain of that. This is unfair to you.”

It was her turn to laugh. “How? I’m not some young, inexperienced girl. I’ve been married, I’ve been divorced. I’ve done love and loss. I’m a bit too cynical to get hurt by a temporary affair.” She hoped that was true. She’d certainly believed it of herself before she’d met Stavros. Before she’d started caring for him.

How had that happened? He was so far removed from her. A prince, for heaven’s sake. And a client. They shouldn’t connect on any level. Yet, she felt like he was the one person who had a hope of understanding her. She felt she understood him. How had he started to matter so much?

He nodded. “I know. But your husband hurt you. I don’t want any part of that. Of hurting you.”

She forced out a laugh and lifted her wineglass to her lips. “By that logic, you should worry about yourself. Yes, he hurt me. But I hurt him, too. Marriage is a two-way street, and very rarely is everything the fault of one person. I’m capable of breaking a man’s heart, Stavros, so perhaps it’s me who should be giving you an out.”

“I don’t have a heart to break, Jess.”

“I don’t believe that.”

“When have I had time to worry about my feelings? I have to take care of Kyonos. While my father took his rage and grief out on Xander, while Xander wallowed in his guilt, someone had to push it aside and stand up. I have made it my mission to never allow emotion to dictate what I do. It has no place in me.” His eyes met hers, the blankness in them frightening. She was so used to his charming glimmer that seeing him now, flat, empty, made her feel cold. The problem was that it rang far truer than the charismatic charm ever had. As though this was really him. The real depth of him. “It is what I must do, to be the best king I can be. To be better than my father.”

“I get that.” If she hadn’t been able to hide behind her wall of snark, she could never have done her job. Could never have gone on matching other couples, trying to help them find their happily ever after. She couldn’t have done it if she’d allowed the wound from the loss of her own to keep on bleeding.

She’d learned to shut it off. To protect herself. That was all deserting her now.

Not the time.

The darkness in his eyes changed, warmed. “But for a while, I’m going to focus on this.” He leaned over and pressed a light kiss to her lips. He’d barely touched her since their encounter in the morning, and it was so very welcome.

“I appreciate your focus,” she said, her breath coming in shorter bursts now. She tried not to be so obvious, tried to regain control.

But she could tell, from the expression on Stavros’s face, that he didn’t have any more control than she did. And that made it all seem a little bit more acceptable. Made it feel better that she couldn’t stop her stomach from fluttering and her heart from thundering, hard and fast.

Neither of them had command of the attraction. The fact she was a part of it, that she was able to drive a man to this point, it did wonders for her completely squished ego.

It affected more than that, but she didn’t really want to ponder it on a deeper level.

“I can’t focus on anything else when you’re around,” he said, sliding his fingers through her hair.

“It’s hard to believe you needed my help finding a wife. You seem to have the romance thing down.”

He shook his head. “Romance is an area I’ve always found myself lacking in. Not in seduction, or flirting, but that’s a different matter, isn’t it? It requires no sincerity. And the matter of my marriage … that’s separate from either of those. You know that.”

His eyes were intense on hers, desperation evident in their depths. Desperation for her to understand. She didn’t know why, and she was willing to bet he didn’t, either. Only that she felt it echo inside of her.

“I know,” she said, covering his hand with hers. “But we aren’t worrying about that, right?”

“I see you’ve finally gotten on board with the denial tactic.”

“Reality has its place. But it’s not here.”

“Normally, I would disagree. I would disagree with the entire concept of this relationship. But I don’t have the strength right now.” The words were rough, a hard admission for a man who lived his life by his strength. Who had based every action on being stronger than those around him.

He was Atlas, with the world on his shoulders. Or at least a country.

He deserved to set it down for a second. To have some relief.

“The only reason you don’t have the strength right now, is because you’ve had to be stronger than any man should have to be. You’ve given up too much.” she said.

“Maybe. But until now I hadn’t missed anything. But if I passed up the chance to be with you … I think I would miss it for all of my life.”

His words hung between them, thick and serious. And far too true. They’d always spoken with honesty, it seemed like they couldn’t help speaking with honesty. But this was a hard truth to take. Mostly because it was true for her, too, and admitting he was that important, that essential, scared her.

She swallowed, blinking to try and dispel the stinging in her eyes. “I would certainly hate to miss this.” She looked at the view, at the sun glinting off the crystalline water. It was easy to look at the scenery and say it. Easy to let him think she might mean something else.

Far too difficult for her to let herself be vulnerable to him. To let him know how much he was starting to mean to her. It was almost harder to admit to herself how much he was starting to mean to her. Because she was tired of wanting the impossible.

“Jess.” He whispered her name and he turned to look at him. His expression stopped her heart. He looked so hungry, so sad. And just as quickly as the emotions became evident on his face, they disappeared. “I do have some work to complete today, and then I would like to see you again. After dinner?”

She nodded. “Yes.” She was grateful for a break, a reprieve. Because her chest felt so tight, far too tight, and she was finding it difficult to breathe.

This was supposed to be about her. About reclaiming a part of herself she thought was lost. About letting go of her past, not clinging to someone else. And she couldn’t lie and say Stavros meant nothing to her. Of course he did. She liked him. She wanted him to have this, this last thing that he desired, before he gave himself over to his country.

But she was going to try to lie and say that was the end of it. She was going to try and do that for as long as she could.

She would use the time apart to try and get a grip on the other emotions, the unwelcome ones.

“Then I’ll see you back to the villa.”

She nodded, trying to ignore the fullness inside of her that was keeping her lungs from expanding all the way. “That sounds good.”

Yes, she needed to get a grip, and she needed to get it badly.

She’d gone into her marriage a naive idiot, and she’d learned a lot about the reality of life since then. That, coupled with the fact that she knew her relationship with Stavros wouldn’t last, should be enough to keep her head on straight.

Sadly, she wasn’t certain it was.

“Jessica?” The villa was empty when Stavros returned later that evening. It was later than he’d intended. Mainly because he’d spent the evening sitting in his Piraeus office, staring out at the ocean and trying to get a grip on his rioting libido.

And the strange twinge in his heart that seemed to hit him hard and radiate down to his stomach whenever he pictured Jessica’s face.

He was much later than he should have been, and he half expected her to be in bed. He prowled the halls for a few moments, opened the door to her room and confirmed that it was empty. He’d known right away.

He could feel that she wasn’t here. A strange sensation, an impossible one, and yet, he had complete certainty in it. Strange how she’d done that. How she’d opened him back up to feeling.

Stranger that he wasn’t fighting it.

Just for this month. Just a little while.

He walked out onto the terrace and looked down at the beach below. He could see her by the shore, her silhouette outlined by the silver moon. He walked down the terrace stairs, and out to the beach, pulling the knot on his tie and letting it fall somewhere in the sand. He discarded his jacket and kept moving to her.

No matter where she was, he felt compelled to find her. To go to her. He could feel her absence nearly as keenly as he could feel her presence. And he wasn’t certain what that meant. Only that he had to be near her. And that if the force of his physical desire weren’t so powerful, weren’t so all-consuming, the need that came with it, the need to be with her, would be frightening. At least with the lust there, he had something else to focus on. Something to take the edge off the unfiltered emotion she called up in him with so much ease.

He walked soundlessly on the sand, discarding his shoes, not caring about their fate. Jessica turned sharply, and he wondered if she could feel him, too.

“Hi,” she said, her voice barely audible above the sound of the waves on the shore.

“Sorry I’m late.”

“You didn’t give me a time. It’s okay.”

“Still, it’s pretty late.”

She shrugged. “It’s okay. I had a nice evening. I called Victoria and told her to expect an invitation to an event in Kyonos. I hope that was okay.”

“It was the right thing to do. No matter how I feel about it.”

“It’s not exactly ignoring it, I admit. But we both know you can’t just not contact her at all over the next month.”

His stomach tightened. “I know.”

“Don’t you have a celebration ball coming up for when Eva and Makhail return from their honeymoon? It’s on the copy of your schedule I received and I thought it would be the perfect opportunity for you to be seen with Victoria.”

“Oh, yes. I had forgotten.”

“She should go to that. With you. Give a hint as to your developing relationship. That way your people can really look forward to the engagement announcement.”

His people. That was what all of this was about. His country. His heart. He had thrown himself into it, completely, into planning what he would do to make it better, to heal it. And that was why he was marrying Victoria.

He couldn’t lose sight of it. But it was so easy to do when Jessica filled his vision. So easy to simply let his desire for her color everything. That was emotion. That was weakness. He could not afford it.

Just right now, it was okay though. Just for this moment in time. He moved to her, unable to stand apart from her any longer. Unable to be so close yet not touching her.

He sifted his fingers through silken strands of blond hair. “I missed you,” he said. He wasn’t sure why he said it, even though it was true.

He wasn’t certain that level of honesty had a place in their arrangement. But he wasn’t sure what else he should say, either. Wasn’t sure what to hold back and what to give.

Holding anything back when Jessica was around seemed an impossibility. He wasn’t sure he wanted to, and that was a new feeling entirely.

Lust he’d dealt with. He’d put it aside when he had to, embraced it when it was convenient. He’d never been controlled by it. But it had never before been accompanied by this strange … ache. An ache that seemed to spread through his body, sink down deep into his bones, beyond, down into his soul.

Wanting Jessica was painful. And it was more real than anything in his recent memory. He craved it. Because it was better than not being near her. Than not wanting her. He wasn’t sure what kind of madness it was, only that for now he wanted to drink it in.

“Jessica, I want to kiss you.”

She nodded, her gaze level with his. “I’m game. I like it when you kiss me.” She had a bit of her false bravado in place, but it was all right. One of them needed to keep their guard up, and he wasn’t certain he could.

When his mother had died, he had been the only one to hold himself together. He had been the one to pick up and move forward. He hadn’t been allowed to grieve. Hadn’t had time to feel. He had closed down.

But he couldn’t shut these feelings off. Couldn’t staunch the flow of emotion that seemed to bleed inside of him like a hidden wound. When he looked at Jessica, he had no control.

“I want to do more than that. I want to make love with you tonight. But you tell me, if it hurts. And I’ll stop. I don’t care how hard it is for me to stop, I will. I would never hurt you.” Even as he said the words he feared they weren’t true. Not that he wouldn’t stop making love with her if it hurt, he was confident he would do that.

But he feared he might hurt her emotionally. That he might have a part in causing her further pain that way. He didn’t want to, but to avoid it he would have to turn back. And at this point, even that would hurt her.

More than that, he feared what would happen to himself. Selfish, maybe. But he felt like he was standing at the edge of a fire, toying with the idea of touching the flame. Then throwing himself into it.

They were in too deep to escape unscathed. But then, maybe they had been from the beginning. That connection—instant, seemingly physical—had been more from the moment they’d met.

She nodded slowly. “I want that. And I’m not even nervous. Which is crazy but I just … know it will be good. That I’ll be good.”

“Something I have no doubt about,” he said, forcing words through his tightened throat.

She laughed. “I’m glad.”

“Oh, Jess, you are the most beautiful woman. The most fascinating. Bewitching.” He kissed her. Her lips were so soft, so warm. They heated him, all the way through his body, his blood burning in his veins, his body getting hard.

She parted her lips and angled her head, her hand pressed to his cheek. He took advantage of the move and slid his tongue into her mouth, sliding it against hers, the intimate action sending a hard kick of lust through him.

It roared in him like a beast, one that demanded satisfaction. That demanded he lay her down in the sand and take what he needed. That he use her to fill the emptiness inside of him. Because she could. She was the only one who could.

He put his hands on her hips, braced her. Braced him. He curled his fingers in, gripped the full skirt of her dress tightly in his palms. He wouldn’t do that to her. He wouldn’t make this hard and fast, he wouldn’t make it about his satisfaction.

He would give to her. He would control his own need. He would master it.

It was Jessica who changed the game. Jessica who moved her hands over his chest, down to where he was hard and ready for her. She was a mass of contradictions, his Jessica. So confident in giving pleasure. So hesitant to receive it.