Читать книгу The Love Islands Collection - Jane Porter - Страница 17
ОглавлениеTHE KISS CHANGED EVERYTHING.
Georgia had thought they’d formed a tentative friendship, but that was gone. Nikos avoided her like the plague—including skipping drinks at sunset—and even dinner for two nights after the kiss.
After two more days of punishing silence, Georgia went in search of him, which wasn’t easy. He wasn’t in his bedroom or the library. She circled the house, visiting each of the patios and terraces, as well as the pool. She returned to the house and checked all public rooms before going back to his bedroom. The staff said he was here; he hadn’t left Kamari, which meant he was somewhere else on Kamari.
Georgia went out for a walk, determined to track him down. She finally found him on one of the more rugged paths that circled the mountain.
He’d been running, and his gray shirt clung to his damp chest. He was breathing hard as he drew to a stop on the gravel path. “What are you doing out here?”
She shrugged, not about to tell him that she’d been looking for him for almost an hour. “Getting some air.”
“This isn’t one of the garden paths. You shouldn’t be this far from the villa.”
“I’m less than a fifteen-minute walk from the house.”
“But no one could hear you if you needed help. You need to stay close—”
“Stop it. I’m not going to do this with you.”
He shoved black hair back from his brow. A ruddy flush colored his cheekbones, and his dark eyes sparked. “I didn’t know you had an option.”
She was fed up with his behavior. “I’m beginning to understand why you required a surrogate to provide you with an heir. No one else would have your baby.”
He wagged his finger in front of her face, nearly tapping her lips. “Is your mouth good for nothing but insults?”
She would have bitten his finger if she could. “Who do you think you are?”
“Your host and home for the next trimester.” He leaned toward her, and his head dropped, his voice a deep rumble in her ear. “So I would try a bit harder to be cordial.”
Heat radiated off him and she could smell the salt of his skin, and somehow on him, it was a good smell, but she didn’t like his attitude and wasn’t about to be scolded by him when he’d all but abandoned her for the past four days.
She shoved her hand against his chest to back him off but only managed to gain a couple of inches. “Please tell me that not all Greek men are as barbaric as you.”
The corner of his mouth lifted. His eyes, with that curious ring of espresso, glowed hot. She wasn’t sure what she saw there—frustration, yes—but there was something else, something powerful and seductive.
“I’m not asking you to be a submissive.” His deep voice rumbled from his chest. “Just work with me.”
“I’m trying! Can you not see that? It’s why I’m here now. Why I went looking for you—” She broke off, realizing what she’d said.
He’d heard it, too, and he said nothing, content to just look at her, study her. Georgia felt the energy spark and grow. His dark eyes said things she knew he wouldn’t say aloud. There was a chemistry between them that always simmered but had been teased to a flame now.
He wanted her. He found her attractive. And the attraction wasn’t one-sided. She found him physically desirable, but this wasn’t about love or long term. It was lust, plain and simple.
His word came to her—carnal.
She thought she was beginning to understand. He wanted her, and he’d bed her, and it would probably fulfill every sensual, sexual need, but that was all it would be. He wasn’t going to want a relationship with her after the baby was born. And for that matter, she didn’t want one, either. There was no future.
This...attraction...was potent, but it was only a distraction. It was just something that would pass the time.
But maybe that was a good thing.
Maybe that was the right thing.
Maybe she didn’t want anything from him but this...the sparks, the heat.
From the moment she’d arrived there had been something raw and physical between them. They’d clashed over rules and she’d struggled for control, but she understood now that her struggle was resisting him.
But the simmering chemistry was about to boil over. Everything was catapulting forward, hot, hot and explosive.
“Carnal,” she murmured, her mouth so dry she had to dampen her upper lip with the tip of her tongue.
“You’re playing with fire now,” he answered, his voice just as husky as hers.
A shiver raced through her. Excitement...anticipation. But she was nervous, too. She didn’t want to take him on, wasn’t trying to provoke him or challenge him. She just wanted to be closer to his heat and energy. It was electric. It made her heart race and her blood warm, and it felt so good to feel something strong and powerful, but the desire was also treacherous. It masked their true selves. It confused reason.
It confused her.
She had to remember why she was here. She had to remember who they were and what was happening... There were consequences for everything.
“You’re not sure, are you?” he said, reaching for her, taking her by the arm and pulling her against him, into the circle of his arms.
She didn’t provide much resistance. Truthfully she wanted him to kiss her again. Wanted to see if he still tasted of licorice and honey and him. And standing so close, his body pressed to hers, she felt the hard, taut muscles of his body and his warmth penetrating her clothes and she ached for more skin, direct heat. She longed to lift her top and peel his shirt up and let them touch, skin to skin. But if that happened, there would be no stopping them. She knew that.
Not because he’d force her, but because she’d beg him to touch her and taste her and take her.
She’d never wanted a man the way she wanted Nikos. It didn’t make sense... There was no reason she should want him as much as she did. Maybe it was the pregnancy hormones. Maybe—
And then there was no more thought as he tipped her head up and kissed the corner of her mouth so lightly that her skin prickled and tingled all over. “You haven’t answered me,” he said, kissing the other corner, and then the bow-shaped upper lip. “Which makes me think you aren’t sure this is a good idea.”
“No,” she answered, struggling to speak as pleasure streaked through her. The light kisses were maddening and delicious. She didn’t want him to stop, but she couldn’t lie to him, either. “Not sure at all.”
He stroked her hair back from her face, his thumb caressing the high sweep of her cheekbone. “That’s smart. Glad someone is thinking.”
“Not clearly, though.”
His dark eyes bored into her, the deep cocoa mesmerizing. “Which makes me think we should not be doing this. I will never take advantage of you.”
“You’re not.”
“I’m not convinced.” He stepped away. “We should go back.”
She didn’t know how he did that. Turn the heat on and off. She was still turned on. She couldn’t quite find her off.
It made her want to hate him. Instead she silently walked next to him as they returned to the house.
Nikos left her at her door without a word, and she went inside and locked the door, not to keep him out but to keep herself in.
She practically threw herself onto the bed and grabbed a pillow to pull over her face to muffle the sound of her crying. She didn’t even know why she was crying, but something inside her was cracking, changing, trying to break free.
Emotion. Control. Fear. Grief.
She was losing her mind. He was making her crazy. She couldn’t remember any other man ever getting under her skin this way, and she wanted to think it was because he was arrogant and insufferable, but it wasn’t that at all.
It wasn’t his looks.
It wasn’t the chemistry.
It was him.
The tough, fierce alpha who’d been terribly wounded somewhere along the way and was determined to live alone...apart...
It wasn’t right. Nikos deserved better. And the baby deserved better, too. The baby deserved a family...a mother...
The baby...
Her hand went to the bump, and she stroked the curve of her belly, soothing him. Poor baby...
Her eyes burned all over again, stinging with fresh hot tears. She blinked and blinked again, but the tears were spilling.
What had she done?
* * *
She didn’t go upstairs for drinks or dinner. She couldn’t. She was still so upset, so heartsick.
Everything was coming undone.
She was coming undone.
She’d started feeling, and now she couldn’t stop thinking, and it was overwhelming her reality.
She’d signed dozens of agreements and contracts. Everything had been completely binding. And she’d said she understood, over and over. She said she was prepared, that she was comfortable signing away her rights, comfortable because she was doing something good, she was helping someone become a father.
But now she knew who that father was, and she knew he had struggles and pain and he suffered...
At ten thirty a tray arrived at her door, even though she hadn’t asked for anything.
She left it outside her door, not hungry. But she did go to the bathroom and shower and rinse her face. The shower didn’t hide the puffiness at her eyes or how red they were from crying.
Georgia put on pajamas and crawled into bed with her books. She had to divert her attention or she’d never be able to sleep.
Half an hour later there was a pounding on her door. Only one person would pound on her door. Aware that he could very well force his way in, she opened the door to save him the trouble.
But opening the door to him was just opening herself to more heartache. Her heart did a free fall as she opened the door.
Just looking at him and her heart did another dizzying nosedive, the emotion wild and overwhelming.
He lifted a brow. “You look terrible,” he said, his gaze sweeping over her.
She hated that he filled the narrow hall so well. Hated that he looked intimidating and sexy all at the same time in his wardrobe of black and black. “Thank you.”
“You’ve been crying.”
“Buckets.” She gave herself permission to examine him as thoroughly as he looked at her, and she allowed her gaze to sweep slowly, leisurely taking him in from head to toe. “And why is it you wear black all the time? Are you a rebel or an outlaw?”
He ignored her jab. “You haven’t eaten your dinner.”
“I’m not hungry.”
“Maybe not, but the baby is.”
“No. The baby is fine.”
His jaw tightened. “Don’t do this.”
Her own chin lifted a fraction. “I’m not doing anything but trying to survive here, Nikos. It isn’t easy. You’re not easy—”
“Never said I was.”
“Thanks. That is really helpful.”
He lifted the tray, carried it into her room and put it on the table. “Eat,” he said, pointing to the chair before the tray.
She remained at the door, heart thudding. “I don’t want to eat. I won’t be able to eat.”
His mouth compressed. His chest seemed to widen. “I’m not asking you. I’m telling you, Georgia.”
“That’s not going to help!”
“Then what will?”
“I don’t know, but you playing the heavy won’t. It’ll just make me angrier.”
“Can’t have that.” He pulled her against him, his arm wrapping securely around her waist, locking her against him. She shivered at the hard press of his body, his chest crushing her sensitive breasts, his corded thighs moving between hers.
“Stop fighting me, gynaika mou,” he rasped, his mouth covering hers in a searing kiss. It was a kiss to punish, to establish dominance, to remind her he was the boss, the man, and this was his house. And Georgia knew all this, and felt all this, but it did nothing but flame the fire.
She’d been through far too much in her life to ever be a doormat. He wasn’t going to take anything from her. She would take from him. Use him. She’d turn his aggression into pleasure.
Standing on tiptoe, she wrapped her arms around his neck, fingers dragging through his thick, long hair, welcoming the kiss, opening her mouth beneath the pressure of his.
He widened his stance and drew her even closer so that she could feel the urgent press of his erection through his trousers. His hands were on her hips, and he rubbed her against his shaft, the thick tip stroking her right at her core, finding her where she was so very sensitive.
She groaned deep in her throat, feverish.
As his tongue played with hers, stabbing into her mouth and then sucking on the tip of her tongue, she squirmed and rubbed herself on him, wanting the contact, craving closeness.
To burn like this...
To need like this...
She’d peel her skin off if she could...
“This is insane,” he muttered as one of his hands reached up to cup her breasts and then captured the tight, aching nipple.
The pleasure was so intense her legs trembled. He worked the nipple once more, and she saw stars. She’d never felt anything like this, had never felt any sensation so intense. Her body had taken on a life of its own and she was shuddering as he cupped both breasts, thumbs teasing the peaks. She wasn’t going to be able to stand much longer, wasn’t going to be able to take much more...
And then his hand was at her waist, fingers stroking down to her hip and then trailing over her outer thigh. Every place he touched felt hot and tingly. The kiss was consuming, and yet Georgia was constantly aware of the caressing fingers on her hip bone and thigh, and then the press of his palm against her mound.
He worked the heel of his palm against her, applying just enough pressure to the sensitive nub to draw a muffled groan from her.
It felt good to be touched, and he knew how to touch her. He was making her melt on the inside, and she wanted more...more skin, more sensation, more pleasure.
She arched as his hand moved to her waistband, playing with the elastic band before easing it open. She felt the whoosh of cool air on her stomach and then the warmth of his hand on her skin.
Georgia closed her eyes as he slid his hand down across her belly, fingers light on her tummy, caressing to her hip bone, stroking there and setting fire to all the nerves everywhere.
She hadn’t known her hip bone was sensitive, but clearly he knew something about women’s bodies that she didn’t. He was stroking down her hip and then beneath the curve of her buttock, cupping the cheek, sending shivers of pleasure everywhere. His touch was maddening, the caress stimulating not soothing. She ached between her thighs, her core clenching, and she pressed her breasts to his chest, rubbing the peaked tips across his, craving friction.
She wasn’t wearing anything under her pajama pants and all she could think about was how much she liked the feel of his skin on hers, and the pressure of his hand, and the way his fingertips sent rivulets of pleasure racing through her. And while it was good, she wasn’t satisfied. She wanted more...his hand between her thighs, his fingers on the sensitive nub.
But Nikos wasn’t in a hurry. He seemed to enjoy the slow exploration, discovering who she was, and how she responded. She tried to be patient, tried to savor the feel of his warm palm sliding across her hip and thigh, drawing circles of fire wherever he touched, but she was melting on the inside and aching for relief.
His hand now was there, between her legs, tracing the seam of her, and then parting the soft folds. She began to shake, and she leaned against him for support, her legs no longer steady. Her thoughts were becoming incoherent as her body took over, focused on friction, sensation, satisfaction.
He stroked her, and she could feel how slick his fingers were just from touching her. “You are so wet,” he growled, biting at her neck and then kissing where he’d just bit.
She was, too. She could feel the slippery tip of his finger stroke where she was so sensitive, and she groaned against his mouth. He did it again, this time drinking the cry of pleasure from her.
He caressed her until she dug her nails into his chest, and then he slid a finger inside her, carefully, gently, finding that spot that made sensation even more intense. He worked his hand, in and out, stroking her there, and she trembled against him. He seemed to know what she wanted before she even wanted it, drawing her in, making her ache and arch, yearning for that release that was just beyond her.
“Nikos,” she sighed huskily, clinging to him.
He buried his finger deep, and she rocked on it, but the release wouldn’t come. Hot, frustrated tears burned the backs of her eyes. She ached and wanted and needed.
“Nikos,” she repeated, pleading for what she knew he could give her.
“Agapiméni,” he murmured.
She didn’t know what he said, she didn’t care just then what the word meant, either. She only knew she needed him. She kissed him desperately, hands clasping his face, lips and mouth drawing the very air from his lungs. She kissed him as if he were her last breath on earth, and maybe he was, because suddenly his thumb was there, at her nub, stroking her.
Georgia was already wound so tight, nerves stretched to breaking, that just those couple of flicks of his thumb across her clit made her shatter, climaxing violently. The orgasm ricocheted through her, and she clung helplessly to him, her body shuddering with pleasure.
For a long minute after, she just leaned against him, listening to his heart, feeling the firm, even thud beneath her ear, struggling to catch her breath.
She didn’t know why everything between them was so explosive, but the chemistry was beyond anything she’d ever felt, and just when she thought it couldn’t be hotter, or more electric, he proved her wrong.
She slowly peeled away to look at him. Her pulse still raced and her body felt deliciously weak as she gazed up at Nikos, unable to think of a single thing to say.
He stared back at her, his eyes dark and focused and mysterious in the soft lighting of her bedroom. “Say it,” he ground out tautly, adjusting the waist on her pajama pants and tugging her pajama top down.
She frowned a little, trying to figure out what he wanted from her. His expression was hard. White lines formed at his mouth. He looked almost...heartsick.
“Say what?” she whispered.
“How I disgust you, and how I forced you—”
“But you didn’t, and you don’t disgust me.” She reached out to touch his chest, but he put a hand up, blocking her.
He made a hoarse sound and walked out, the door slamming loudly behind him.
* * *
Nikos avoided her the next day, and the day after.
Georgia told herself that she shouldn’t have been surprised that he’d pulled away. It was the pattern now. But that didn’t make the rejection any easier.
And the closer she and Nikos became, the more the distance hurt.
What had happened in her bedroom was intense—physically, emotionally—and part of her felt raw and rejected, but another part of her told her that Nikos was struggling even more.
She didn’t know why intimacy was so difficult for him, but there was obviously an issue. He lived alone in the middle of the ocean, refusing to even visit the Greek mainland for medical appointments, insisting everyone come to him.
So, yes, she felt rejected, abandoned, but he was also wrestling with demons, and after two days of silence and distance, Georgia had had enough.
She found him on the top of the mountain, running sprints. He didn’t see her there, not at first, and she watched him for almost five minutes, seeing him tear across the tarmac at full speed, running as if the devil himself was at his back.
Her heart ached. He was so tortured. His suffering baffled her.
What had happened? And why?
Obviously he blamed himself.
But this kind of self-abasement wasn’t healthy. The way he handled stress worried her. Was this how he’d raise the baby? Would he handle problems as a father with the same punitive attitude?
She walked onto the tarmac, crossing the broad warm asphalt until she stood right where he was running.
Nikos dragged himself to an abrupt stop. He pulled out his earbuds, let them fall onto his shoulders. She could hear loud, pulsating rock music. It was the percussion-heavy, guitar-blazing, head-banging kind.
He was sweating profusely. His olive cheeks had a dark, dusky glow.
He looked past her, and then returned his focus to her. “How did you get here?”
“I walked.”
“It’s a long, steep climb.”
“I took my time.” She folded her arms over her chest, chilled by the wind. It was a blustery day. She’d been fine while walking, but standing still, she was cold.
Nikos just looked at her, distant, detached. There was no light or warmth in his eyes. She was reminded of the day she’d arrived. He was that Nikos Panos. Icy. Authoritative. Slightly hostile.
Her upper lip curled. It was smile or she’d cry. When she realized he wasn’t going to speak, she did. “I’m worried about you, Nikos.”
“There is no need to worry about me. I am not your concern.”
“The nightmares were worse last night.”
His head jerked up, and he gave her a sharp look. “Am I part of the nightmares?”
“You were last night, yes.”
“What did I do?”
Her chest tightened. It hurt to breathe. “Nothing.” She saw he didn’t understand. “You did nothing, and that was the problem. The baby cried and cried, and you wouldn’t hold him or pick him up and I couldn’t get there and I couldn’t help him—”
“So this wasn’t about your family or you. This was about me and my son?”
Her heart did a painful double beat. “I’m worried about you, and how it will be when I leave. You can’t just run away from things, Nikos. You have to face them—”
“I don’t need the lecture, gynaika.”
She’d found out from the cook what that word, gynaika, meant. It was woman. I don’t need the lecture, woman.
She exhaled in a little puff of sound. He was positively medieval, and when he glowered at her—as he was now—scary as hell, but she couldn’t back down. She had to do this, if not for his sake, then for the child they’d created.
“I am concerned. And you need to know that I’m troubled by what I see. You have moments where you are present and attentive, but then there are times like now, where you’re so detached it’s frightening. Nikos, this isn’t the life I imagined for the baby.” She saw his expression darken, the set of his mouth becoming grim. “It is one thing for you to retreat and detach if you have a wife and family, but you don’t. You will be a single father, and you are so isolated here. The baby will be so isolated here. It’s worrying.”
“Worrying?” he repeated.
She heard the edge in his voice. Her pulse quickened in response. She had to be careful; she was walking on dangerous ground. “You must admit that is not going to be a conventional upbringing, living here on Kamari with just the two of you.”
“I have staff.”
“That is fine, then, if you are comfortable with them becoming extended family...grandparents, uncles, aunts—”
“They are staff.”
She swallowed around the lump in her throat. “Don’t you want your son to have more? Don’t you want him to be loved and have family?”
“I will love him.”
“Love is being present and accessible. But when confronted by something difficult you retreat...withdrawing for days. The child will suffer.”
“You can’t project what is between you and me onto him.”
“Why not?”
“Because it will be different.”
“Maybe. But maybe not. And because I know what I’ve seen here, and felt personally, I worry that when you need time alone, the child won’t have enough love. I worry that he’ll be...lonely. He should have others, Nikos, others in his world, others who will love him, too.”
“I wasn’t raised in a big, traditional family. My son will not miss anything.”
She didn’t say anything. What could she say?
His black eyebrows flattened. “You don’t believe me.”
She shrugged, trying to contain her frustration. “Children need community. They need to feel secure and loved—”
“I will do that.”
“But what if something happens to you? Who will be there for him?”
“Nothing will happen to me.”
“You don’t know that! You’re not God. You’re mortal—”
“I think it’s time you took a step back, Georgia. I am not sure why you are making my business yours. The child is mine, not yours.” He stared at her, expression brooding. “Are you having second thoughts?”
She almost laughed. Second thoughts? Oh, yes, second and third and fourth...
She was consumed with regret. The guilt ached inside her. How could she have imagined she would be able to do this...conceive and carry a child and then just give him away?
“I carry your son,” she said icily, “and I protect him with every breath I take.”
“But he is my son,” he repeated, “not yours, and therefore, not your concern. You waived your rights when you accepted payment. You waived those rights when you signed the fifty-some-page agreement. You waived those rights months ago, and you will never get them back.”
Her fingers itched to slap him. He was hard and hateful, and his arrogant tone matched his arrogant expression.
It was all she could do to stand there and hold his gaze without crying or yelling. She stared up at him, staring hard to show she wasn’t afraid and wouldn’t be cowed. He needed to know that he wasn’t a god. He wasn’t the sun and the moon, the stars and the universe. He was just a man. A flawed man that had been broken and scarred along the way and survived by throwing his weight at the universe, thinking that he could control everything by being tough, cold, mean.
And she wouldn’t shed one tear for someone who was determined to be tough and cold and mean.
She wouldn’t feel anything for a man who was more beast than man. But at the same time, how could she hand a helpless newborn—so tender, so innocent—over to such a man?
“You’re angry,” he said shortly.
“Furious,” she agreed, voice pitched low, vibrating with emotion. “And offended.”
“Because I remind you of the facts? I force you to recognize the truth?”
“Because that kiss in my room, it changed you, and you in turn took something that was lovely and wonderful and made it ugly and sordid. You made me feel so good when you kissed me, and touched me, and then you pulled away and you’ve become hateful. You’ve become a monster...like the Minotaur in the labyrinth. You want to crush me now, but I won’t let you. I might be a woman, and I might not have your size or muscles, but I am stronger than you. I will not break. And I will not let you break our son.”
She turned around and started walking back the way she’d come, moving quickly, almost jogging back to the road, and then once on the road, she kept jogging, running, as if she could escape him, her and the truth.
She loved the baby.
The baby was hers...
* * *
She was grateful Nikos didn’t chase after her. She would have had to run faster, and she didn’t want to fall. She just wanted to get back to her room, to lock her door and hide.
But the moment she reached her room, she felt ill, cold and shaky and nauseous. She dashed into the bathroom, leaning over the toilet, stomach rolling, churning.
Her heart would break if she gave the baby up. Her heart would never be the same. How could she do this?
How could she hand him over and never look back?
It wasn’t just because Nikos was detached and cold and hard. It actually had nothing to do with him, and everything to do with her. She loved the baby. She loved him and talked to him at night, and in her heart she talked to him throughout the day...
Tears streamed as she emptied her stomach.
Afterward, she clung weakly to the toilet, trying to catch her breath, trying to get her stomach to settle.
But her stomach wouldn’t settle. The tears wouldn’t stop. She’d made a pact with the devil. She’d sold her soul to make sure her sister would be financially taken care of, but the cost was too high.
The cost was unbearable.
She’d spent all this time telling herself it wasn’t her baby, wasn’t her son, but it was a lie.
He was hers.
And she loved him.
And it would break what was left of her heart if she left this island without him.
“This isn’t good,” Nikos said from the bathroom doorway, his deep, rough voice echoing in the small space.
She used her sleeve to dry her damp eyes. “Did you break the door down?” she asked hoarsely.
“I used the key.”
“Thank you.”
He disappeared from the bathroom and returned a minute later with a glass of water. He handed her the glass. “Rinse, spit and come talk to me in the living room.”
She did as he suggested, and when she emerged he pointed to the couch.
“Sit,” he said.
She wanted to tell him not to be bossy, but she didn’t have the energy. Instead she sank onto the cushion and curled her legs up under her.
Nikos faced her, hands on his hips. “I don’t like to see you this way. It’s not good for—”
“The baby. I know.” Her chin lifted. “I’m aware of that, and I don’t want to stress him in any way.”
Nikos’s jaw tightened. “I was going to say you. It’s not good for you.”
She didn’t know how to answer. She just looked at him, her heart so raw, her emotions wild.
“What is happening here?” he ground out. “I don’t understand it.”
“Understand what? That you kiss me and then run away...or that I tell you I’m scared and then you tell me it’s none of my business?”
He muttered something beneath his breath. She couldn’t make out the words, wasn’t even sure if he was speaking English.
“What did you say?” she demanded.
“It’s not important.”
“I think it is. I think it’s time you talked to me, Nikos. Not yell, not shame, not intimidate, not berate. Talk to me. Have a conversation.”
“I’m not good at this.”
“You’ll get better with practice, and even if you don’t want to do it for me, do it for your son’s sake. He will need you to talk and listen. He will need you to not close down the moment you feel threatened—”
“I don’t feel threatened!”
“You’re terrified of emotion.”
“That’s not true.”
“You run from intimacy like a little, scared schoolboy.”
“What?”
“It’s true. Conflict isn’t going to kill you, Nikos. Having an uncomfortable conversation is just that—uncomfortable—but it’s not the end. It doesn’t mean we hate each other or won’t still be friends—”
“Are we friends?” he interrupted, standing over her, black eyebrows flattened over dark, piercing eyes.
She had to think about the definition of the word for a moment. “Yes. At least, I think we should be. It’s the only way to get through this. It’s the only way I can possibly manage this last part...getting through to the end.”
“So you do have misgivings now?”
“I don’t know what kind of woman I would be not to feel conflicted. I feel him moving. He’ll give a kick when I talk. When I go to bed, he gets active. It’s like a game we play.” Her throat ached, and the lump she’d been fighting grew. She couldn’t say more. It would be impossible to say more, especially when the emotion was right there on the surface.
He dropped into a chair next to the couch and leaned forward, looking at her intently. “I have been making it harder for you, haven’t I?”
“The whole thing is hard.” She struggled to smile. “I don’t know how we’re going to get out of this in one piece.”
“You make me nervous when you say that.”
“And you make me nervous when I imagine you isolating a child from the world. Promise me you’ll take him on trips and adventures...promise me you’ll expose him to a life outside Kamari.”
He searched her eyes. “I promise.”
She blinked back tears. “Good.”
“I will be a good father to him, too, Georgia. I will love him, and I will protect him—”
“Protect him from what, Nikos? From the world, or from you?”
He shifted, uneasy.
“You are only really, truly dangerous when you detach and disappear,” she said. “I don’t like your rough edges or your coldness when you’re angry, but the distance...that feels like rejection. Abandonment. No one wants that.”
“I pull away to keep from hurting you.”
“You only hurt me when you pull away.”
“I hurt you on the tarmac. I made you run away in tears.”
“Because you’d pulled away! You and I had this incredible moment in my room and then you disappeared completely for days. It hurt. So tell me now, why do you do that after we’re close? Why do you punish me?”
“I’m not punishing you. I’m punishing me.” There was an edge in his voice, and tension washed off him in waves. “I should have had more control. I should have not taken advantage of you.”
“You didn’t take advantage of me. I took advantage of you. I wanted everything you did, and more.”
Heat flared in his eyes, and she nodded. “I loved being close to you. You are so good at what you do...you’re wow. Seriously, wow. You make me feel so good, but then you leave and I feel ashamed because I think my pleasure disgusts you—”
“No.”
She lifted a brow. “Then why do you leave so quickly...and why did you avoid me after?”
“I wanted you. I wanted to carry you to the bed and strip your clothes off and—”
He broke off and dragged a hand over the bristles on his jaw.
She waited, but he wasn’t going to say more. “Forgive me for being bold, but, Nikos, that sounds really good to me.”
“What if I hurt you?”
“You mean, when you make love? Do you choke your partner...hit your partner...throw her around?”
“No!”
“Then what?”
“I am carnal.”
“Is that a bad thing?” She didn’t have that much experience. Sex was pretty much sex. She enjoyed it but hadn’t had unusual experiences or anything particularly erotic. “Is that supposed to shock me?”
“I want you, gynaika mou. I want to be with you. I want to take you to my bed and keep you there for hours, touching you, tasting you, making you shatter with pleasure. But if we do these things, it will complicate us, and we are already very complicated—don’t you think?”
Her pulse leaped in her veins. Her mouth had gone dry. “Yes.”
“And so I try to stay away from you so that I don’t kiss you again and put my hands under your clothes and touch you where I want to touch you, and feel you cry against my mouth as you come.”
Her eyes widened. She swallowed hard. Her heart raced now. She felt treacherously warm and wet between her thighs. “You like sex.”
“I do,” he said. “But I like you even more, and so I fight myself. I try to stay away, do the right thing.”
“So that’s why there is all this tension between us. You’re avoiding me because you want me. And I’m lonely because I want to be with you—”
“You are not lonely for me.”
“Oh, I am. I like you, Nikos. Even when you’re awful.”
“You can’t like me. You barely know me.”
She reached out, tugged on his sleeve. “Then let me get to know you.”
“And how will that help either of us? We know how this will end—”
“Exactly. We know how this will end. There can be no confusion about the end, either. I’m not staying here in Greece. My world and life is in Atlanta. Yours is here. Neither of us is looking for a relationship. We’re just trying to stay sane. Trying to make the best of an incredibly stressful situation.”
“It doesn’t have to be stressful, not if we stay on different sides of the villa.”
She laughed low, but there was little humor in the sound. “Am I the only realist here?”
He looked at her for a moment, his gaze fixed on her mouth. She could feel his desire. Her own body hummed with need. She slipped her hand from his sleeve to the back of his wrist. His skin was firm and warm. She stroked the back of his hand, to his fingers, lacing her fingers with his. “I can’t do this for three more months, Nikos,” she whispered.
His jaw flexed. “We have to.”
Her eyes burned, and her pulse raced. Everything in her felt stirred up. Her emotions were all over the place. She was physically attracted to him—dangerously attracted—and yet he was right. He was everything she couldn’t want. And perhaps he did know best. But at the same time she craved him, and his touch, and the pleasure he could give her. “I’m going crazy.”
He pulled away, stood up and walked across the room. “We’ll just try harder to stay out of each other’s way.”
The lump in her throat grew. “No! I’ll lose my mind, Nikos. I’m already lonely. I already feel trapped. I’m not used to being cooped up. We need a break... A little stress relief would go a long way. Can we please go somewhere tomorrow? And if not tomorrow, then later this week?”
“Have you swum today yet? You didn’t swim yesterday. Get in the pool. You’ll feel better.”
“I don’t want to swim.”
He shoved a hand through inky-black hair, pushing it back from his face. “Then go for a good walk—”
“Like I did today? Climb up the mountain to get a good hike in?” she interrupted fiercely. “Or perhaps I should try running. I only jogged today, but maybe tomorrow I could try a couple hundred wind sprints like you—”
“You don’t need to run.”
“Running won’t hurt the baby.”
“Walking is better, and you know it. Tomorrow it should be mild. Good weather—”
“No!” She jumped to her feet, hands clenched. “I’ve walked miles on your paths and they just go in circles. I’ve climbed this mountain. I’ve done everything I can do here on Kamari, and I need a change now. Please get me off this rock. Please let me see something new.”
“You will be free to explore after the delivery—”
“That’s three months away.”
“I thought you had to study.”
“I do study. For hours and hours every day, but I’m going stir-crazy. I need to get out...go see something, or go do something.”
“There is nothing good happening in the outside world. You are safe here, so I prefer you to be here.”
“If I am truly your guest, treat me like a guest and not a prisoner.” She drew a short, raw breath as the possibility hit her. “Or am I prisoner?”
“What a silly question.”
Her chest suddenly hurt, the air bottled in her lungs. He’d brought her to this island far from everything...
He said he didn’t leave Kamari... He said there was no reason to leave Kamari. Her eyes widened. Was it possible she was his hostage? “Are you afraid I’ll try to escape? Run away?”
“That’s ridiculous. You’re getting yourself worked up over nothing.”
“Then why can’t we go out for part of the day? You said you had a boat. Let’s head to Amorgós, or even better, Santorini.”
“No.”
“Because I need to see people. I need to talk to someone. You’ve shut me out, and I understand why now. We have this—thing—between us and you’re trying to resist it, and I understand that now. But I am lonely. I’m overwhelmed.” Tears began to spill.
She struggled to wipe them away.
He swore in Greek and crossed to her side. “Don’t cry,” he said roughly. “Do not cry.” He wiped her cheeks dry with the pads of his thumbs. “Don’t cry,” he said more softly, his lips near her ear. “Because you make me want to comfort you, and kiss you, but when I kiss you, agapi mou, I want you, and I’m afraid if I claim you, I’ll never let you go.”
