Claimed For His Duty (Greek Tycoons Tamed Book 1)(17)

“I’m telling you to leave me alone, Stavros.” She confirmed his suspicions. “I’m telling you that I feel as reckless and deranged as you have always called me. I’m telling you to not dissect my actions today and pronounce judgment.”

Even as her tone rose, she still didn’t meet his eyes.

Had he made it so hard for her to show him anything but that selfish facade? Was he truly such an unfeeling monster then?

Had he always been like that?

He had worked so hard at his grandfather’s small farm, trying to pitch in for his father’s negligence, afraid that they would throw Calista and him out on the streets.

He remembered a strange calm the night his grandmother had said his mother wasn’t coming back; he remembered not shedding even a tear when he had found out that his father was dead. All he had thought of even that day was how he would shield Calista from it.

For as far back as he could remember, it had been about the little girl that had followed him around from the moment she had been able to walk, hugging him, kissing him, and coming to him with tears when she had a bruise, knocking the breath out of him.

She had had such trust in her eyes that he hadn’t known, literally, what to do with it. Hadn’t known how to return those hugs, hadn’t known what he could say to her. So instead he had done what he could.

He had protected her, provided her with everything he possibly—

Theos, no!

The thought that had always brought such comfort to him now flayed him, digging in, making him flinch in pain.

Do you actually miss Calista? Did you ever love her?

Had Leah been right in her cruel judgment of his feelings for Calista too?

After he had lost Calista, he had felt angry, confused, unbalanced. His failure poisoned his very thoughts, so he shoved them away and focused on his actions instead.

Protecting Leah, and punishing himself and her, had provided him with perverse relief.

Now, her words taking root inside him, he felt raw.

He should leave her, every instinct warned him. He should walk away when all she was capable of was piercing him with her acerbic words. He should be done with her, set her free and not look back.

And yet, he couldn’t have walked away if his very breath had depended on it.

Beneath his duty toward Giannis and his sense of responsibility toward her, even beneath his unnerving attraction to her, something very strange had begun to flutter in him for Leah.

He was in awe of that feeling as much as he was wary of it.

“What else do you intend to put me through in this test of yours, Stavros?”

Everything about what he had seen tonight troubled him. “Leah, was your hatred of me reason enough to keep away from Giannis?”

The wariness slowly dissipated as she held his gaze and finished her drink. Something new dawned in her glittering gaze—a satisfaction, and his breath rattled. One long leg stretching in front of her, her stance loosened. Her slender shoulders squared, her nostrils flared.

“I would let you think that if I thought it would hurt you. I would do anything right this moment if I thought it would make you bleed.”

He found himself walking toward her, found himself straddling the lounger to face her. It was as though the combination of pain and fury in her eyes tugged at him.

She looked glorious, infinitely breathtaking.

She had already somehow pierced him, the truth lingered on his lips. The thought of that vulnerability, of sharing that much with her made his gut clench.

Clasping her cheek, he lifted her to face him, his pulse pounding in his veins. The sound of her sharp breath was like a balm to him. “Are you so thirsty for my blood then, pethi mou?”

“Yes.”

Her resounding answer sent a shiver through to his very bones. It was as though seeing Giannis had peeled off that facade of hers.

“Are you satisfied, Stavros? Have I risen in my worthiness in your eyes?”

The thunderous roar of his heart, the curling heat in his muscles made it harder for him to whisper the one question that had been battering at him all day. He felt as if a huge truth was within his grasp, as if the real Leah was within his reach. And in that moment, he would do anything to have it.

To have her, to know her, to feel her...

If he had her, would the strange turmoil inside him stop?

“When has my opinion of you begun to matter, Leah?” he whispered softly, the words burning on his lips.

He felt her instant recoil in the stillness of her form, in the way the very air around her seemed to suspend and freeze.

A violent energy burst from her limbs. Lifting the hem of that heavy, voluminous dress away from her legs, she faced him. A flash of a toned thigh met his gaze and he looked away guiltily, the depth of his hunger for her shredding his control.

Her hair whipped around her face, the swish of her dress adding to the harsh exhales of her breath.

The uncaring mask back in place, she mocked him with that practiced glare in her eyes, with that biting edge to her tone. By hiding from him what he so desperately wanted to see.

“You know what, Stavros? Scratch that answer. I don’t care whether I could hurt you or not. I don’t give a damn about you. I did what you asked of me, I made sure Giannis is happy. I played the part of an heiress and his loving granddaughter to the hilt. Which means I’m one step closer to achieving my freedom. That’s what I care about.

“Tell me what will make the next month go faster so that I can see the back of you. Tell me what is next so that I never have to talk to you ever again.”

A dangerous fire burst in his belly.

How dare she put on this mask again? How dare she deny him even the merest hint of the real her? How dare she sink under his skin and yet deny him the same satisfaction?

How dare she turn him into this man teetering on the edge of his control, and walk away so blithely?

Before she could get to her feet and escape, because he had no doubt that she was about to escape, he clasped her wrist and tugged her down.

She fell onto her haunches, her shoulders knocking against his chest. For the first time in his life, Stavros gave in to every irrational urge, every desperate want. “What are you afraid of, Leah? Me or yourself?” he taunted.

Primal satisfaction pounded through him, the increasing frenzy of her movements telling him he had hit the mark. “I’m not afraid of you,” she said, twisting her upper body to get away from him. Ended up torturing him further with the slide of her body against his.

“Then face me, Leah,” he whispered, driven by some reckless urge to prove that his opinion mattered to her, that he mattered to her.

Just as she was beginning to matter to him...

* * *

She couldn’t let him touch her, she couldn’t let him kiss her.

If she let him touch her tonight, if she let him hold her tonight, something inside her would break. She would pour out the whole wretched truth, she would blurt how lonely she had been...

If she let him see the real her, she would have no shield, no armor against him. And even in the fragility of her emotions, Leah knew she couldn’t let Stavros close.

“Why are you acting like this?”

Her arms ached with the effort it took to hold herself so stiffly in the circle of his body; every inch of her hurt to stay unaffected in the warmth of his rough embrace.

“Like a man acts with his wife?”

She fought back stupidly hot tears, knowing that she didn’t stand a chance against that claim.

When she pushed against his wrists again, he grabbed her hands this time. Laced her fingers through his and pulled her forward. Her hip touched his rock-hard thigh and she bit down on her lip.

Giving up her struggle, she leaned her forehead against his shoulder. “What do you want from me?”

“All I’ve ever wanted is the truth, pethi mou.” His fingers circled her nape with a possessively delicate touch. Her heart thudded as if it would thunder out of her chest as she raised her head. Molten heat filled his eyes. “But you won’t give me that. So, I will claim what I can of you.”

Somehow she shook her head, even mesmerized by how low and silky he sounded, by how astonishingly expressive his face was.

How had she always seen only one facet of Stavros?

There were so many sensations—the rough texture of his hands against hers, his bruising grip on her wrists, the sudden heaviness of her breasts as they jutted against him, the beckoning hardness of his thighs against her hips—she should have expired from so much sensory input. It was as though her body was one pealing, pulsing mass of sensation...

He was everything she ever wanted and yet she couldn’t give in. “I don’t want this. I...”

“In this, you’re not a good liar.” He placed a finger on the pulse at her neck, feral satisfaction filling his gaze. “Your pulse betrays you...your darkening eyes betray you.” With every word he said, his accent became thicker, her breaths came faster. “Even your mouth betrays you...” His long fingers framed her cheeks, pulling her closer.

Her hips nudged his thighs apart, and the hottest sensation zigzagged through her. His thighs were so hard and powerful, his touch possessive and potent.

How was she supposed to resist him when he looked at her like that?

“I will not be your wife soon. I won’t—”

He smiled then, and the sinful curve of his mouth, the dark laughter in his eyes undid the last layer of her willpower. “Now, tonight, in this moment, you’re still mine, yineka mou. One kiss for all the trouble you have caused me, Leah, one kiss for everything you deny me...”