Читать книгу Greek Mavericks: At The Greek's Pleasure - Maisey Yates - Страница 17

CHAPTER SEVEN

THE PAST TWO weeks at Apollo’s villa had gone surprisingly smoothly. It was strange to coexist with him and not fight. It actually reminded Elle of a different time. A simpler time. Back when they had actually liked each other. When she had looked up to him. When he had—apparently—had some sort of attraction to her that he had buried.

Of course, maybe they had coexisted so peacefully because their lives had been essentially separate. Unless they were making love. Which had not been confined to evenings, or to bed. She was certain that at this point, Apollo had taken her on every surface in the entire villa.

She was not complaining. It had been... Well, it had been the culmination of her most heated fantasies. It was strange. Like she was living a life borrowed, one that she could not possibly have in the long term, but one that was in many ways preferable to the one she had been living. She was still seeing to her responsibilities. Sometimes working in his office, sometimes from the office in his home while he was out.

She couldn’t complain about the vacation. Of course, it was also difficult to justify the fact that she was sleeping with the enemy. Though, not literally, since they didn’t sleep together. They had sex, and then he left.

“It’s how I do things, agape,” she said, amusing herself with her poor imitation of Apollo’s voice as she paced the length of her bedroom.

A knock on her bedroom door startled her. She wondered if she had summoned him just by thinking about him. But he had just gone out to work a couple of hours ago, so she doubted he was back already.

She opened the door, to see one of his servants, Maria, standing there holding a package. “This is for you, miss,” she said.

“Oh,” she said, her whole body getting warm when she realized what it was. “Thank you.”

After Maria left, she closed the door and opened the package hurriedly. Inside was a hot pink bikini. She had been planning this for the past few days. Maybe it was juvenile. But she wanted a chance to recapture the moment that both of them had missed. One that seemed to linger in both their minds.

She didn’t waste any time getting into it, examining herself in the full-length mirror, watching as her cheeks flooded with color. She didn’t make a habit out of wearing things that were so revealing. Though, honestly, after spending so much time naked with Apollo, she shouldn’t feel self-conscious.

Still, she did.

That was different. That all happened during the heat of the moment. This was...premeditated. She had never staged anything quite like a seduction with him. And that’s what this was. But she was aching for something, searching for something more. She couldn’t deny that what she felt for him wasn’t hatred at this point. It would be so much easier if it was.

She felt... Well, she felt a lot.

She took a deep breath, opening her bedroom door and heading down the hall, down the stairs and outside to the pool. She was intent on being there when he got back. Intent on giving him the chance to make a different decision this time when he saw her in the bathing suit.

She slipped beneath the warm water, paddling over to the edge of the infinity pool, looking out over the view of the ocean. It was beautiful here. She hadn’t thought it was possible to feel so at peace in Apollo’s lair. Certainly not when she had first arrived.

She couldn’t say they were growing closer, not exactly. But...it was more than it had been. For one thing, they could be in each other’s presence for a full five minutes without screaming at each other. Sometimes they could go that long without tearing each other’s clothes off, too. But only sometimes.

The thought made her smile, she lifted her face up to the sky, bathing herself in the warmth of the sun.

“What are you doing out here?”

“I finished work early,” she said, turning, her heart slamming hard against her breastbone when she saw Apollo standing there, still dressed in the suit that he’d worn to work.

“Come here,” he said, his jaw set, his dark eyes intent on her.

Elle draped her arms over the back of the infinity pool, arching her back slightly, thrusting her breasts up out of the water. “I’m enjoying the water.”

“Elle,” he said, his tone warning. “Do not make me come in there and get you.”

“I think I would like for you to come in and get me. It’s what you should have done nine years ago.”

He smiled, a genuine smile. It wasn’t one that was tinged with cynicism, neither was it mocking or laden with barely contained rage. It made her heart turn over in her chest, made it expand.

He began to remove his suit, starting with his jacket, then his tie, then slowly undoing the buttons on his shirt. There had been ample time over the past couple of weeks for her to become familiar with that gorgeous male physique, but familiarity hadn’t made him seem commonplace. Not in the least.

He arched a brow, slowly placing his hands on his belt buckle, working the leather through the loop. Her mouth went dry and she fought to keep herself from moving closer to him. She was going to hang back. She was going to force him to come to her.

He undid the closure on his slacks, pulled the zipper down slowly, his eyes never leaving hers. He pushed his pants down his narrow hips, exposing himself to her. He was everything. Absolute perfection. Everything she had wanted a man to be and then some. No, there was no chance of him ever becoming commonplace in her eyes.

Slowly, he made his way to the pool, climbing down, the water rising up and concealing his body from her.

“You took my show,” she said, just as he leaned forward, his sleek, athletic body slicing through the water effortlessly.

“I thought I would bring it to you,” he said, approaching her, wrapping his arm around her waist and drawing her up against him.

“Oh,” she said, “I guess I can appreciate that.”

“I think you can more than appreciate that,” he said, looking pointedly down at her breasts, at her tightened nipples, pushing up against the thin fabric of the bathing suit.

“I make it too easy for you,” she said, not sounding even remotely regretful.

“I’m not complaining,” he said, sliding his hand down her waist, resting his hand on her butt.

“Of course you’re not. You’re so certain of yourself, and all I have done is make you even more certain.”

“I was named after a god. I came into the world with a rather inflated view of myself.”

“Of course you did. How could I forget?” She lifted her hand, resting her palm on his chest. “I ordered this bathing suit for you.”

Heat illuminated the darkness in his eyes. “I thought you might have.”

“We have a chance to make a different decision.” She traced the water droplets that were trailing down his chest, rolling into the grooves of his muscles. “I wish that I had done something differently then. Been a little bit bolder.”

“You were young. You shouldn’t have done anything. I shouldn’t have done anything.”

“I was young, but I knew what I wanted. And it hasn’t changed.” She looked up at him. “I still want you. I wanted you all this time, even when I was angry at you.”

He wrapped his fingers around her wrist, lifting her hand to his lips, pressing a kiss to her palm. “Yes, I know you did. Believe me when I say the feeling is mutual.”

Those words, those husky, delicious words, sent a little shock of pleasure through her. It wasn’t strictly physical. It went deeper than that.

Unfortunately, all of this went much deeper than the physical. Much deeper than she wanted it to go.

“I do.”

A smile curved his wicked mouth. “Listen to us. We have managed to converse for several minutes without fighting.”

“A miracle.”

“Perhaps. Though, I imagine we are skirting the edge of sacrilege assigning anything divine to the nature of things between us.”

“Perhaps.”

He had a point. What they shared was carnal, lustful.

No, not only that. Beautiful. Altering.

Impossible.

He was her stepbrother, he was her enemy. Truly, it was the enemy part that made it most impossible. The stepbrother issue would hardly mean anything. They hadn’t been raised together. They shared no blood.

There’s no affection, either. Not from him.

She squeezed her eyes shut, unable to look at him while she had thoughts like that. He closed the distance between them, pressing his lips against hers. And she just let it wash over her, warmer than the sun, more refreshing than the water they were standing in.

Desire assaulted her, her stomach tightening, a pulse beating low and hard at the apex of her thighs.

It had been just over a month since their first encounter in his hotel room in New York. Just over a month since she’d been with a man for the first time. It hadn’t taken long for her to grow accustomed to it. For her to know exactly what she wanted. For her to learn his body, and to learn what hers desired of him.

He slipped his hand beneath her bikini bottoms, taking hold of her with his large palm. She loved his hands. Loved the feel of them on every inch of her. Loved looking at them. Spent a great deal of time fantasizing about them.

But then, it was like that with every single inch of him.

So many things did not live up to the promise. Did not live up to the hype. Apollo was not one of them. He took her every fantasy and superseded by leaps and bounds. In comparison with the reality her fantasies of what sex with him would be like seemed childish. Simple.

She had known it would feel good, she had known she would find him attractive. She hadn’t realized it would be so raw, so exposing. Hadn’t realized it would strip her bare of everything, not just her clothes. She had thought it would just be physical.

That was such a simplistic thought. His body was the missing piece of hers. He was everything she ached for in the dead of night, the reason that she felt hollow sometimes. It was because she was desperate to have him inside of her. Only him.

She parted her lips for him, expecting him to conquer, expecting him to invade. Instead, he was gentle, his tongue sliding slowly against hers, the slick glide sending a sharp pang of need through her. So acute it was almost painful.

She forked her fingers through his hair, deepening the kiss, pressing her body as firmly against his as she could. She knew that if any of his staff members walked out now they would get a bit of a show. But honestly, her brain was too foggy with desire to really get a handle on that reality. She couldn’t care. Not for her modesty, not for anyone’s sensibilities. There was only this. Only him.

She lost all sense of propriety, all sense of loyalty, all sense of...everything when she was with him.

She became a new person. A different version of Elle.

She had to wonder what might have happened if she had taken the steps to close the distance between them nine years ago. If they would have forgotten about decency back then.

It didn’t matter. They were doing this now. She tried to shove aside the thoughts of everything else that had happened in the ensuing years. The wedge that had been driven into the family.

Her father, his mother and her, all on one side of the gulf, with him on the other.

She didn’t want to think about them. Not now. Didn’t want to think about the father she could never be good enough for. The father who had preferred her stepbrother to her.

Probably still did, in truth. Even though Apollo had taken a chunk out of David St. James’s empire, he probably privately celebrated his stepson’s ruthlessness.

Apollo might have betrayed them. But Apollo never acted like he wished she were someone else. Apollo never made her feel like she wasn’t good enough. He gloried in her body, in the attraction between them. It was more than she had ever had from...anyone.

The thought filled her with a sudden, intense swell of emotion. Whatever they had, whatever this was, it fed her soul in a way nothing else did. Because it was about her. It wasn’t about the business. It wasn’t about performing to his satisfaction. He cared about performing to hers. They were in this together. They wanted each other.

For once she wasn’t striving for approval. Wasn’t trying to live up to an expectation she simply never could.

Her father had seen Apollo as his hope. The son he never had. The heir she could never be.

Then he had trusted Apollo to bail him out, never speaking to her about anything. Never consulting her. He had always trusted Apollo above her.

And Apollo had betrayed him.

But that didn’t stand in the way of her and Apollo. He didn’t look at her and see the unfulfilled promises of someone else. He wanted her. In spite of everything.

It was balm for her soul.

He swept her into his arms, lifting her as though his arms were created to cradle her close. As though she was the perfect weight and size for him. As though this moment had been fated from the beginning.

He carried her up from the pool, striding right into the house, clearly just as unconcerned as she was about being seen. She had a feeling his staff was paid to look the other way when he was conducting affairs in his home. She shoved that thought to the side. She wasn’t going to think about other times, other women.

Right now, she was the only one. That would have to be enough.

He started up the stairs, and she put her hand on his cheek, tracing the fine lines on his face. Additions to his features, new and fascinating. She remembered his face so clearly as a teenage boy. Smooth, pretty. Full perfect lips, amusement in his dark eyes, a kind of irreverent quirk to his brow.

He was no longer smooth. Dark stubble covered his jaw, his chin. Deep grooves bracketed his mouth, marred his forehead. The face that had once been pretty was now more rugged, more distinguished. The laughter in his eyes was gone, replaced with a kind of intensity that burned her from the inside out.

The irreverence was still there, though. It was one of her favorite parts of him. That dry, sardonic humor that would make her laugh in the strangest moments. That would take her from anger to entertainment in only a few moments. That would see her kissing him instead of screaming at him thanks to one well-timed comment.

He was one of the few men who had ever stood up to her. Who had gone toe to toe with her and made her feel like she just might lose.

Not for the first time she wondered at the ground they had covered since then. Wondered about what had happened.

But she didn’t have time to turn it over anymore, because they had reached the top of the stairs, and only a second later, her bedroom.

He set her down, water dripping down her body, pooling down around her feet. “I’m going to get the carpet wet.”

“I can’t say I am very concerned about that.”

“Well, it’s your carpet.”

“Yes, it is,” he said, one side of his mouth curving upward.

He regarded her for a moment before taking a step toward her, tracing the line down the edge of her bikini top, the tip of his finger only barely delving beneath. “This is the stuff of my darkest fantasies.”

“A fluorescent bikini?”

He chuckled. “You. In this bikini. So much of that beautiful, pale skin on display. Your hair... It should look ridiculous with this color. Instead, you’re simply everything bright. I wanted you then. I consider this my reward for good behavior.” His smile turned wicked. “You know, I only wish I had known you were a virgin.”

“Is that so?”

“Yes. Had I known you were a virgin I would have relished my prize all the more. I was obsessed with having you first. With teaching you about pleasure.”

“You did,” she said. She had held the words back from him two weeks ago. Because she had not been ready to share that with him. Had not been ready to confess just how much he had meant to her. What it had meant that he was her first lover.

Or why he was.

But there was no use in protecting herself now. She didn’t want to.

“It was always you that I wanted,” she said. “That was why even though I said I hated you, even though I was so angry at you the first time I kissed you, it went as far as it did. Because it was always you for me, Apollo. No matter how many years have passed, no matter what ugly words were spoken between us, it was always you.”

* * *

Apollo knew he did not deserve the words that Elle had just spoken. He was using her. For these past two weeks he had been using her. To satisfy his need for her. Biding his time until he could get his revenge, filling the hours with the pleasures of her body knowing that in the end he would betray her.

There was nothing else to do. This thing between them could not last. And he could not deviate from his course of revenge against his stepfamily. Not now.

He had made up his mind. There would be wreckage.

Collateral damage.

But he wouldn’t think of it now. Instead, he would take that unearned compliment. Savor it. Hold it close. He would consider this the satisfaction of a desire born years ago. The revenge would be a satisfaction of a different desire, but it was a separate issue. In his mind, she wasn’t a St. James. Not now. Now, she was his lover. As he had long fantasized.

When he was finished he would end his association with her and continue on, viewing her again as the daughter of his enemy, rather than his mistress.

He could barely tear his gaze away from her, away from her pale, delectable curves, so effortlessly displayed by the flimsy material of the bikini.

That she had done this for him... It was strange. It created a shifting sensation at the center of his chest, made him feel as though the earth had tilted slightly. This shared memory that they had of this time when they had wanted the same things... It was strange to have it here in the present.

Just take it. It is a gift.

He would. Whether he deserved it or not. Because, as he had already told her, he was the villain here. Nothing would change that.

Slowly, ever so slowly, he untied the top of the bikini, peeling it away from her luscious breasts, baring them to his gaze. She was pale everywhere except for here. Here, she was pink. Pink and perfect and everything he desired. He leaned in, tracing the edge of her puckered nipple with his tongue before sucking her deep into his mouth.

“So sweet,” he said, his voice rough and unrecognizable to his own ears. “Better than honey.”

She shivered beneath him and he recognized his pleasure coursing through her body. He was learning to read her. Learning to understand what made her moan, what brought her close to the edge. Had learned how to tease her. How to hold her on the brink of climax without giving it to her completely.

He had never kept a lover for this length of time before. Always, he was finished with them after a couple of nights. A couple of weeks was unheard of. There was something...intoxicating about it. Something singular. To know one particular woman’s body in such an intimate fashion. Of course, he was well-versed with the female body, but that was different. This was...

Well, this was Elle.

He imagined it would never be the same with another woman, no matter how long he was with her. Elle was a fiery, living fantasy come to life, everything he had ever imagined she might be and more.

It was a damn shame. He wished she was a disappointment. Wished that she was something he could despise. Wished that she could have done something, anything to confirm that he was right to carry out this revenge plot, and use her as he’d planned.

He wished he had left her as the brittle, buttoned-up woman she had seemed in his mind only a couple of weeks ago.

But now he knew her. Knew her body. Knew her soul.

That’s ridiculous. You cannot know someone’s soul. You haven’t one of your own.

He pulled her close, taking hold of the tie on her swimsuit bottoms and tugging the thread roughly, then the other side, letting it fall to the ground. Trying to break the spell that she had cast over him with this bright, insubstantial piece of fabric. It was insane. And yet it was so...

He had advanced no further with her than where he had been nine years ago. He was still a slave to his desires. And now he was old enough to know that going out and getting any redhead at any bar would not suffice.

Now that he had had Elle, he knew that there was no substitute. Ever. There had never been another woman like her, and there never would be again.

He dropped to his knees in front of her, suddenly overwhelmed with his desire. He buried his face between her thighs, tasting her, deep and long, relishing the flavor of her desire as it spread over his tongue. He was insatiable for her. Desperate for her. He pushed one finger deep inside her slick channel, then another, loving the way that she bucked against his hand, the needy cries for pleasure that escaped her lips.

She was desperate. Like he was. She was in this with him. He needed it proven. Needed to know for sure. He felt like he was losing his mind. He did not know himself now. Never in all his life had a woman made him shake. Never in all his life had a woman owned him in such a way. Never had a woman successfully erased visions of any other.

But she had.

He gripped her hips, holding her tightly against his mouth as he continued to pleasure her, until she shook just as violently as he did. Until she was on the verge. Until she was whimpering, crying out for release. Begging for it.

He loosened his hold on her, sliding the flat of his tongue over her as he rose upward, tracing a line to her belly button, up farther, until he was standing. Until he could capture her mouth with his. He pulled her up against him, let her feel the hard, insistent thrust of his arousal against her stomach. Kissed until he was dizzy. Until she was pleading with him to take her.

He rocked his hips against her, relishing the raw sounds she made, the feeling of her fingernails digging into his skin. It was always like this with her. Desire tinged with violence.

And he loved it.

He backed her up against the bed, and they fell onto it. He positioned himself between her thighs, pressing the head of himself to her slick entrance. He pushed into her easily, her arousal easing the way. She was so hot, so tight. She was made just for him.

As he seated himself fully inside her he had the strongest sensation that he was home. That he was complete for the first time in years.

A deep, strong emotion tugged at his chest, a sense of déjà vu that he didn’t want to place. This was new and familiar all at the same time. And he rejected it. Didn’t want it. But as his arousal built, as she flexed her hips beneath him, meeting his every thrust, he found he could not hold on to his control and keep the emotions at bay.

She wrapped her legs around his hips, and as she gave herself up to her own release, as his own climax crashed over him like a wave, those feelings crashed through him, as well.

And as he was tossed violently in the surf, he could think of one thing. Elle. That she was the port in the storm. That she was the constant. The North Star by which he had been guided for years. A star he had turned away from.

The realization left him feeling like his chest was full of broken glass. As though he had been wounded, invaded by sharp, shattered splinters he could never hope to remove.

He looked down at Elle, at her lips, flushed with desire, swollen from his kisses, her eyes, slumberous, satisfied. Looking at him as though he held answers.

He had no answers. At this moment, he had nothing but questions.

“Stay with me. Tonight,” she said, “could you stay with me?”

And as terror tore at him like a rabid dog, he could do nothing but nod and pull her into his arms. But it did nothing to stop the hemorrhaging in his chest. Did nothing to stem the flow of pure, unmitigated fear pounding through him.

But Elle had asked him to stay. And so he did.