She sighed and visibly relaxed. “Thank goodness.”
He moved closer and she raised a hand to stop him, but didn’t touch him again to his disappointment. “That doesn’t mean it’s right. Yes, we’re attracted to one another, but if we weren’t living together, we’d go on dates and take things slow. Get to know each other. I’m afraid we’ll fall into bed together and things will turn ugly, then we’ll be stuck together for another three months.”
He considered the points she raised and decided to take the loophole she’d unknowingly provided. “Okay.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Okay?”
“We’ll take it slow.”
“That’s not what I meant and you know it,” she said, trying but failing, to sound outraged.
He lowered his head to whisper in her ear. “What I know is there’s something between us and I’m not going to walk away from it. I’ll give you space, but I’m not giving up. We’ll get to know each other and take it slow, like you said.” His hand brushed across her lower back. He raised his head, not surprised to see her crimson cheeks. Pleased by her flared nostrils and shallow panting, he gave her a smile and left her alone in the ballroom to wonder what he’d do next.
From the church, they marched through the village, led by a violinist with silver hair. The setting sun’s rays reflected off the sea and the first star appeared in the sky. Arriving in the town square for the celebration of their marriage, she and Ryan joined hands and stared in awe at the bountiful feast their families had prepared.
The violinist, her Uncle Alexander, kissed her cheek and wished them well. He smiled at them, pride shining in his eyes.
He deserved that pride.
After all, he’d helped unite them.
Uncle Alexander shook her husband’s hand and joined the village guests, leaving them to their marital dance.
With the stefana crowns decorated with ribbons on their heads, they bowed to one another for their first dance as husband and wife.
The music began, a ballos, for the two of them. Her body swayed to the notes of the flute and lyre, enticing, flirting, and attracting her husband to represent their courtship.
Desire for her husband bloomed when his fingers splayed low on her back, moving lower in unspoken promises. The music stopped and they breathed heavily. He cupped her chin in his palm, slowly rubbing his thumb over her lips, and bent down to take what belonged to him.
The sun shone warmly on her face. Confused, Portia opened her eyes. Where had her husband gone? What was she doing in this bed? She rolled over and came face-to-face with a gray ball of purring fur.
It was all a dream.
Zeus’s hair tickled her nose, so she tossed to her back and threw a hand over her forehead.
It had seemed so real, almost like a memory.
She watched Zeus licking his paw. “It’s not possible that Ryan and I loved each other in another life, right?”
He stopped his cleaning and fixed his gaze on her.
“I hope you’re not waiting for him to reply,” Ryan said as he sauntered into the bedroom wearing only jeans.
Had he heard what she’d told Zeus? Her heart pounded with embarrassment.
Damn, he looked good for—she turned to read the clock—seven-thirty in the morning. He must have gotten up early and showered. And something smelled heavenly.
“Is that coffee?” She sat up and rested her head against the headboard.
“It is.” He took a blue sweatshirt from a drawer and yanked it over his head. “I made a fresh pot and picked us up warm bagels and cream cheese.” He looked down at his chest and smirked at her. “I spilled coffee on my shirt, so I threw it in the wash.”
Sure he did. She caught one last glimpse of his washboard abs before he covered them with his shirt. “You’ve been busy.”
“I’ve been up for a few hours. You were dead to the world.” He stood at the foot of the bed and stared at her, his brows crinkled as if he was pondering something. “Why don’t you throw on some clothes and meet me downstairs for breakfast? I found a couple pictures in the basement that might look good in the kitchen. I thought I’d hang them up.”
As she stared at him, she couldn’t get the dream off her mind. Her love for him was so strong that bits of it lingered now that she was awake, and the urge to pull him down on top of her to christen their marital bed nearly overwhelmed her. Speaking of beds . . .
“When will your bed arrive?” she asked, tossing off the covers and getting out of bed.
His gaze shot to her bare legs then up to her face. “Bed? Oh, I paid extra so it should get here soon.” He put his hands in his pockets and shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “I’m going to let you get dressed. I’ll meet you downstairs.” For a second, he didn’t move. Just stared at her as if he were waiting for . . . something. When she opened her drawer and pulled out undies and a bra, he exhaled and spun on his heels, exiting the room as if she had lit him on fire.