Xenakis's Convenient Bride(24)

She sighed and propped her head in her hand. It was too heavy for her neck.

"Then we went to Athens for my birthday and he took me out to dinner and  proposed. I was stunned. Didn't see it coming at all. And when he told  me he wanted to make a baby... I fell apart. It all came out and he was  so shocked, but he tried to help and..."

"Didn't get very far," Stavros finished softly.

"You're sorry you picked me now, aren't you?" He had to be, which made  her sad. "I should have told you. I just don't like talking about it. It  hurts."

"I know."

The concern in his expression undid her. It took those passionate,  deeply fascinated feelings she had for him and made them flower into  something more poignant and permanent. Love. She had probably been in  love with him for a while now, but this was the moment where it  blossomed and became real. He knew her deepest secret and didn't judge  her for it. He wanted to help her.

She dropped her gaze, trying to hide the glow of yearning that dawned in her heart and swelled to suffuse her whole being.

"Come here." He leaned to gather her up, then shifted them onto the sofa  so she was in his lap. "You worry me when you're looking so vulnerable  like that. We're going to find him, Calli. I'm going to do everything I  can to make this right for you."

She wanted to believe him. She believed he believed it, which was deeply  reassuring. Sliding her arm around his neck, she buried her face in his  throat, moved beyond words. Her throat closed, trying to hold back  revealing how much his support meant to her. How much he meant to her.

She turned her lips against his skin instead, telling him with her  openmouthed kiss and the small shift of her body how she felt about him.

He stilled and she felt him swallow. He drew back to look down at her,  thoughts unreadable when his eyes were slitted like that, his lashes a  forested line.

He usually made the advances, but she took the initiative, pressing her  mouth to his, letting him know she was interested. Receptive.

He kept the kiss brief, pulling back a little to keep staring down at  her in that inscrutable way. "You don't owe me anything, if that's what  you're thinking."

That's not what this was, but-Oh, God, now she felt like a fool. Perhaps  her messy personal life had completely turned him off. "You don't want  to?"

She drew her arms from around his neck, tucking them protectively  against her chest. She must look like hell, too. What was she thinking?

"Calli." He adjusted her position in his lap so she felt the hardness of  his erection against her butt cheek. "That happens when you're not even  in the room. All I have to do is think about you. It's inconvenient, if  you want the truth. I always want you. But I don't take advantage of  women when they're at a low point."

"Stavros-" She dropped her head against his collarbone. "I'm not trying  to compensate you. I want to feel something besides pain." She let her  head fall back. "Do you mind?"         

     



 

He snorted and gathered her high against his chest as he stood. "In that case, I'm your man."



Stavros was at a loss as he set Calli on her feet beside the bed. Sex  was a playful pursuit for him. A sport. Not the game-hunting kind. More a  good-natured set of tennis. He liked to control the play, definitely  kept track of how many points he scored and he was always willing to  take instruction and hone his skills.

With Calli, a new bar had already been set in terms of intensity and  endurance, not to mention sheer level of enjoyment. Plus, given how  frequently they came together, he knew exactly how aggressive he could  be while keeping her with him through the whole act. It was mind-blowing  how great the sex had become with her.

But this was different. There was no room for dominance when she was so  completely defenseless. She needed healing, and he was capable of  gentleness, but he didn't know how to be tender. Not without opening his  heart.

That shift terrified him. He was a man who thrived on risk, but he was  taking a huge one here. He couldn't turn away from her, though. If ever  there was a time to be selfless, this was it.

A strange instinct guided him, something that had its origins near last  night's jealousy, but wore the flipside of it. Humble gratitude, maybe. A  sense of privilege that he could be the man to touch and heal.

His hands moved of their own accord to carefully sweep her hair. As much  as the need to consume her gripped him, he ached to absorb her in  smaller ways. Savor her. He found himself lingering with his lips  against her cheek, appreciating the softness of her skin and the  delicate scent that reminded him of Greece.

As he turned her to help her shed her top, he pressed tiny kisses  against her nape. They were small stamps of reassurance. He wouldn't  rush her. They had all the time in the world.

They didn't, he acknowledged distantly, gut knotting with tension, but  in this moment, time was at a standstill. He smoothed his lips against  the warmth of her shoulder, murmuring how lovely she was.

She chuckled softly and reached to cup his jaw, turning her head so they were nose to nose, lip to lip.

"We've been speaking English so much I didn't understand you right  away," she said in Greek. "I like it when you use our language." She  pressed her mouth to his, lips clinging in the way that went straight to  his head.

He tamped down on the animal that rushed up in him, turned her and drew  her slender form into his front, forcing himself to keep the kiss from  raging out of control.

It was incredibly powerful regardless, fracturing all the walls inside  him. He tasted the emotion on her lips. The enormity of all that she  was, all the expansive feelings she hid within that sweet, calm exterior  she showed the world.

He was the only one she showed this side of herself, he realized with a  fresh rush of dizzying excitement. This passion of hers, these depths,  they were all his. No one else caught more than a glimpse. It made him  that much more possessive, yet careful, as he unwrapped the gift that  she was. And when they were naked on the bed, he let her press him onto  his back and slither her soft form and flowing hair over his skin.

"You're making me crazy," he growled, cradling the sides of her head.  Her hair spilled from between his fingers, forming a tent around them as  they kissed. The rest of him was a line of primed muscle, holding  still, acutely aware of her straddling him, teasing his shaft with her  nest of curls, breasts swaying lightly against the plate of his chest.  He was damned near levitating, wanting so badly to be in her.

"I want to make you crazy," she told him, smiling the sly grin of a  woman exalting in the power of her femininity. She was both beautiful  and terrifying. He swelled with pride at being the man who gave her this  confidence while he feared what he had unleashed.

He had stopped worrying about his mortality years ago, but in that  moment of glorying in the goddess that held him in thrall, he was  petrified. At some point, this would end. Not just their faux marriage,  but their lives. They would age and die, and this woman was far too  precious not to live forever. He was far too greedy not to demand an  eternity with her.

If only...

He tamped down the thought. Rather than grow urgent, he slowed his  movements even more. Drew out every caress and cherished every  sensation. He tasted her gasps of pleasure and listened for the music  beneath her skin as he stroked her. He gave himself up to whatever she  chose to take, watching, experiencing her wrench of climax like it was  his own, even though he held back, stunned by her glorious release as  she rode his hips.

Then he rolled her beneath him and gave more. More of himself, more  attention and assurance and assuagement. Everything in him was hers. And  when he finally gave up the last piece of himself and poured himself  into her, as she clenched and cried out her own joy, it was not only the  most potent and satisfying climax of his life, it was worth all that it  would cost him when he had to let her go.         

     



 



As if Stavros hadn't already pulled her apart and put her back together a  million times, he did it again when he asked her to go to the  anniversary party for his friend Sebastien.

"Antonio and Alejandro will be there. They're all good friends. I'd like to see them."

He wasn't saying he wanted her to meet his friends, precisely, but it  seemed significant. Although he had introduced her to his family despite  their marriage having an expiry date. Maybe he was just as blasé about  bringing her into his social circle.

Things had shifted since she had told him about Dorian. Stavros was the  same dynamic man who didn't stop working unless it was to make love, but  he scaled back their appearances to a few smaller dinners with people  she had already met. When Friday came, he drove them out to Galíni,  where much of the weekend was spent lazing by the pool with his family,  talking about everything and nothing.