Читать книгу Irresistible Greeks: Unsuitable and Unforgettable - Эбби Грин, Jane Porter - Страница 15

IF POUNDING her head against a wall and repeating the “you are an idiot” mantra would have made any difference to the outcome of her morning conversation with Stavros, she would have done it. Unfortunately, no amount of self-recrimination would fix the fact that she’d vomited her emotional guts up for him to dissect whether he wanted to or not.

Yes, he’d asked. But he hadn’t known what he was asking.

I did some research on endometriosis.

Replaying those words in her mind made her eyes sting, made her skin feel tight. When had anyone in her life done that for her? Her mother, her husband, her friends? When had anyone cared enough? Or been brave enough? As far as everyone in her life was concerned her condition only mattered in terms of how it affected them.

Only Stavros had asked. Only he had made that extra effort. Why? Why did he care for her at all? It didn’t make sense.

The commanding knock on her door could only come from Stavros. She knew it by now.

“Come in,” she said. There was no point in avoiding him. He wouldn’t go away. He was like that.

The door opened and Stavros walked in, closing it behind him. “Why don’t you let me decide what’s too much work?”

She blinked. “What?”

“Can I be the one to decide if you’re too much work? Because you keep telling me you are, and that I don’t want to deal with you but … the thing is, I do.”

He looked so sincere, so deadly serious, and she couldn’t help but laugh. “Why? It doesn’t make sense. Go … have a fling if that’s what you need before you get married. There’s a whole lot of women in bikinis down on the public beaches. Or hurry up and marry Victoria, so you can get to your wedding night. But why would you want to waste your time with me?”

“I want you. And if you don’t want me, that’s fine, but I’m pretty sure your actions last night mean that you do. So if you want me, take some time with me.”

“I … I don’t think I understand.”

“Four weeks. Four weeks and I’ll ask Victoria to marry me, and until then, I want you.” He looked down. “I understand it’s not the world’s most romantic proposition, but it’s all I can offer.”

Her stomach seemed to be cold inside, and she knew that wasn’t possible. “Yes, I know. I’m over twenty-eight, I can’t have children, I probably have an annoying laugh. The reasons why I’m wrong for you are many and varied. Those are just the obvious ones.”

“Yes,” he said, the word flat, honest. “But that hasn’t stopped me from wanting you.”

“I … I don’t know whether I’m flattered or insulted. Actually, scratch that, I don’t know if I’m supposed to be flattered or insulted. I think I’m flattered, I’m just not certain I should be.”

“Because it’s a temporary offer?”

She lifted her thumb to her lips and gnawed the corner of her nail, nodding.

“I would never insult you by pretending I could offer something I couldn’t. My responsibilities won’t change. They are what they are. But I can’t get you out of my head. I can’t force myself to want Victoria when it’s you that I see every time I close my eyes.”

“No one’s ever said things like this to me,” she said, looking up at him, trying to see some hint in his expression that he was joking because … it didn’t seem real.

“Not even your husband?”

“No. He uh … he was a college student when we got together. So was I. Young and stupid and very sincere, but not very poetic.” She cleared her throat. “It didn’t last, either, for all that we thought it would.”

“Neither will this,” he said.

She nodded. “But we won’t pretend otherwise, will we?”

“No. I won’t pretend with you, ever. Promise to do the same with me?”

“Yes,” she whispered, not sure if she was agreeing to his last request, or his request for the four weeks. She was lost anyway. No matter how much she pretended she was undecided, she was lost to him. To her desire for him. Her curiosity. Yes, she was afraid, but she wanted him more than she wanted to keep hiding.

Because that’s what it really was. She wasn’t afraid of the pain of sex. She wasn’t even as afraid of failing as she’d thought. She was more afraid that she would have sex, and that it would be good. And then she would lose her excuse to hold men at arm’s length. She would lose that thing that kept her from seeking out another relationship.

She swallowed, trying to push her fear down. Fear she didn’t want. Not now.

“I need you,” he said, the words raw, lacking charm, flirtation, any kind of artifice. “I’m not sure if you realize how much. I’m not sure you could, as it’s something I don’t entirely understand. But I need … you. This. I hope you want me.”

She did understand. She needed him, too. As much as she needed to escape from the confines she’d put herself into, as much as she needed to move on. He felt like a necessity.

She hadn’t ever thought of herself as a temporary kind of woman. But then, when sex was such an ordeal it was hard to think of it as something she might do recreationally. Still … Stavros made her want a taste of the illicit.

Of something she’d never really had, first because she’d met her husband at such a young age, and then because she’d developed endometriosis. And after that, because clinging to the past, wrapping herself in the memories of the pain, had become a shield against any sort of future hurt.

It also kept her tied to her old life. Tied to who she’d been.

She needed to be free of it. She finally felt ready to be free of it. It was all well and good to wish she could fully embrace her new reality. But she wasn’t. And that was no one’s fault but hers.

“Yes,” she said again. “I want you, too. And now that you’ve given up on that fake flirting business I actually find you a lot more irresistible.”

“What fake flirting business?”

“You know. That’s not you, Stavros. This is. This is the man I can’t resist.”

He swallowed visibly, a muscle in his jaw twitching. “As long as you can’t resist me.”

“I could. But I’m not going to anymore.”

He laughed, the sound as raw and ragged as his expression. “I couldn’t resist you. That’s why I’m here.”

Her stomach contracted, her heart pounding faster. To have such a big, strong man admitting he couldn’t fight his attraction to her was … it was beyond her. And it restored something in her. Something she’d thought was so mangled beyond recognition it could never be fixed.

“This is stupid,” she said, laughing, because if she didn’t she thought she might cry.

“I know,” he said, taking a step toward her, cupping her cheek in his palm. “I know.” He rested his forehead against hers, his eyes closed.

She tilted her face and touched her lips to his, a gentle kiss, a question. One he answered with his own kiss, stronger, more certain. His tongue teased her, and she parted her mouth for him, sliding her tongue against his, the friction igniting a wave of heat in her stomach that spread to her breasts, down to her core.

“Wow. You really are an amazing kisser,” she said, a shiver sliding down through her.

“And you are very honest.”

She shook her head. “I’m not usually. I just do my very best to seem tough all the time and no one questions what I do or say too closely. They don’t want me to kill them with snark. And that way I don’t have to be honest. But for some reason, I am honest with you. I’m not sure why.”

“You have the same effect on me,” he said. “I can’t fathom it.”

“It’s the lust thing. It’s scrambling our brains.”

A smile turned up the corners of his mouth. “Is that it?”

She nodded. “I’m not familiar with it on quite this level, but I remember feeling this way in college a couple of times.”

“Yes, that sounds about right. You’d think at our age we would be impervious.” He smiled slightly and it made her knees feel a little weak.

“Hey, watch it. No age jokes.”

He kissed her again. “You are a beautiful woman. I cannot imagine you being any more attractive to me. Your dress today is lethal.”

She looked down at her demure yellow dress. “This?”

“It has buttons,” he growled. “And all I can think of is undoing all of those buttons.”

Her face heated. “Really?”

“Oh, yes, really. I want to do it now, but I don’t want to move too quickly.”

“It’s not even noon.”

“So?”

“Isn’t there a no-sex-before-noon rule?”

He laughed. “Sex isn’t like alcohol. And if that’s been your experience with it, I can tell you, you need your experience broadened.”

She swallowed. “I’m a little nervous. A lot nervous.” She wasn’t sure what he would do to her, and that fear wasn’t rooted in the fear of physical pain, but over how complete the loss of control might be. Over whether or not she would be able to hold onto her defenses.

He smoothed his thumb over her cheek. “Tell me, is there a specific act that causes worse pain?”

She nodded, finding that focusing on the physical was helpful. “Orgasm can cause pain, which … sucks.” She breathed the last word with a shaky laugh. “The worst of it always came from … penetration. In the end at least.”

He nodded slowly. “No sex. Not now. I want to take your dress off. I want to touch your breasts. Taste them, too. Nothing more. Nothing more until you’re ready.”

She could hardly breathe. His promises, so husky and sensual and perfect, had her body wound so tight she was certain she would break. “You really do have a way with words.”

“Funny you should say that. My speechwriters usually handle my words. I pride myself on being a man of action. What are words if you can’t back them up?” He slid his hands down to the first button on her dress and slowly slid the little fabric-covered bead through the hole, letting the neck of the dress gap.

She wished she could capture the bravado she’d felt last night. But then, last night had been her game. She’d been in control, in her element. She’d been giving pleasure and feeding off of the residual. Here and now, Stavros had command of her. A reverse on last night, and she found she actually liked it.

He moved to the next button, then the next, pressing a kiss to her neck for each button. When he reached the button just beneath her breasts, he slid his tongue along the line of her collarbone, then down a fraction. He paused at her belt, sliding it through the buckle slowly, then letting it drop. He continued down, until her dress hung open, until his tongue was curving around the line of her bra, teasing her sensitive flesh.

She shivered as he pushed the dress from her shoulders and let it fall to the floor, leaving her in her white pumps and matching bra and panties.

“You are amazing,” he said, dropping to his knees to press a kiss to her stomach. Tears filled her eyes and she couldn’t stop them. She didn’t want him to take her panties off, not this time. He would see her scars and she wasn’t ready. Not yet.

She tugged on his shoulders, urging him up, and he complied, his hand on her back, toying with the catch on her bra, teasing them both. He took a step, his arms wrapped around her still. She stepped backward. They made a slow, smooth dance to the bed and he undid her bra as he laid her down, pulling it off and casting it aside.

He was half over her, his breathing harsh, his eyes on her bare breasts. Thankfully, she knew they were one of her best features, so this was the easy part. It was made even easier when she caught the feral light in his dark eyes. “You are so much more beautiful than I imagined. Much more beautiful than I could have imagined. I have never seen a woman as exquisite as you.” He cupped her, slid his fingers gently over her tightened nipples.

She arched into him, pleasure making her breath catch.

“Tell me if I do something you don’t like,” he said. “Tell me, and I’ll stop.”

She didn’t want him to stop. Not ever. She reveled in his touch, in the feel of his rough, masculine hands on her tender skin. And when he replaced his fingers with his mouth, with the slick friction of his tongue, she felt a sharp tightening in her core, waves of pleasure, of pending release, rippling through her.

She gripped his hair, arched her body. She was close. She’d never been so close, so fast. She couldn’t remember ever wanting anyone this badly, either.

“Oh, yes.” She sighed, letting her head fall back.

He raised his head. “More?”

She nodded, biting her bottom lip. “Yes.”

He moved his hand down her stomach and she was certain he would feel the line of scar tissue that ran just below the waistband of her underwear, but she was past caring. Past caring about anything. About the future. About possible pain. Even about the loss of control.

How could something that felt so amazing end in pain? Any kind of pain was worth it, surely.

He slipped his fingers beneath her panties, grazed the scar and continued down to where she was wet and ready for him. He teased the entrance to her body with his fingers, before sliding them over her clitoris. The sensation was like fire, burning heat from there throughout her body.

She gritted her teeth, her breath getting sharper, uneven. She curled her fingers into the sheets as he continued to touch her there. Soft, even strokes that brought her closer and closer to the edge.

He leaned in and kissed her mouth as he increased the pressure of his touch, and everything in her seemed to release at once, a flood of pleasure roaring through her, drowning out thought and sound. She cried out, not caring if she was loud, not caring that it was daylight, not caring that their relationship would only last a month.

Because there was nothing else. Not in that moment. There was Stavros. And there was what he made her feel.

Only when reality started piecing itself back together, did fear assault her. But there hadn’t been any pain yet. Still, she waited. Waited for the low, dragging sensation that rivaled stories she’d heard about childbirth to begin.

And there was nothing. Nothing but a feeling of being replete. Nothing but a feeling of total bliss and satisfaction. She didn’t feel as though she’d given her body away, didn’t feel as though she was lost. She felt as though she’d gained a part of herself back.

A sob shook her body and she felt a tear slide down her cheek. The tears she couldn’t find earlier. Tears she hadn’t been able to find for a long time. Something in her shifted, changed. Like a dam had been broken inside of her, one she’d walled up to protect herself. One she felt she didn’t need. Not now.

Stavros cupped her face, his expression fierce. “Did I hurt you?”

She bit her lip and shook her head. “No. You didn’t. I can’t … I can’t remember the last time … Thank you.”

He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her to him so that her head was rested on his chest. “Don’t thank me.

I can’t accept thanks for that. I took far too much pleasure from it for that.”

“Realistically,” she said, trying to escape from some of the moment’s intimacy, impossible when she was mostly naked and cradled in his arms, but worth a try, “you have to see Victoria a couple more times before you propose.”

He nodded. “All right.”

“I know that will run during our … relationship. But I suppose as long as you don’t …”

“I will be faithful to you, you don’t have to worry about that. And I will be faithful when I am married,” he said.

She swallowed. It was the right thing for him to say, the right thing for him to do. He should keep his vows. She believed in marriage, respected it. For all that she and Gil had screwed up their marriage, neither of them had cheated.

Still, a part of her died when he said it. “I’m glad. For all of that.”

“This might not be the best idea. But I don’t regret it.”

“I can’t, either,” she said. It was the absolute truth. How could she regret what had passed between them? How could she regret the loss of a fear? There were others, of course. But she was free of one, too. And that wasn’t a small thing.

“So, tell me,” she said, attempting a subject change, in a bid keep things from getting too heavy, “what does a woman expect when she signs on to be your temporary companion?”

“I’m not sure. I’ve never had a relationship quite like this. Of course, I’ve never met a woman quite like you.”

“What do you normally do?”

“There’s that sort of coyness to it that one employs in a sexual relationships. Gifts, shallow conversation, references only to the here and now, nothing said of the future one way or the other. And with you, there’s no coyness, that’s for sure.”

She smiled. “I don’t do coy.”

“I noticed.” He tightened his hold on her. “All of my life has been devoted to fulfilling the needs of others. Right now, just now, I want to meet my own.”

So this was for him, as much as for her. She liked knowing that. Felt empowered by it. Because there was something he needed to, and maybe she could provide it. Maybe she could be the one to give him moments of bliss. Moments that were purely his own, so that he would have the memories years later when his life was no longer his at all.

“What do you want?” she asked.

He sifted his fingers through her hair. “I want to sleep with you tonight. Just sleep, if that’s all you want.”

“That’s too easy. What else?”

“To go to the beach. Which should be easy, since we’re on an island. I am a man with the world at my fingertips in terms of the material. The thing I often find myself lacking in is a companion who makes life interesting. Who makes it fun. You be you, and I will simply enjoy it.”

“Really, you’re too nice. I feel outmatched.”

“I like your prickles,” he said. “Even more now that I understand them.”

She sat up and wrapped her arms around herself. “I should get dressed.”

“I’m in no hurry.”

“I have some work to check on, just real quick, and then … and then we can do whatever we want. Because that’s what we’ve decided to do, isn’t it? Whatever we want for the next month.”

He smiled at her and her heart felt like it tightened in on itself. She could do a month. A month was short enough. Short enough that he wouldn’t start wishing she could be a million things she could never be.