Modern Romance January 2017 Books 1 - 4

CHAPTER SEVEN

THE 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.