by Lucy Monroe
She stubbornly clung to it, staring up at him, her gray gaze unreadable.
“We will both enjoy our shower more if you allow me to wash you.”
Her luscious lips twisted in an unhappy moue. “That’s what I’m afraid of.”
“Why be afraid?”
“You would not understand.”
It was she who did not understand. “There is nothing to fear here, Kayla. Trust me.”
Their gazes locked, hers weighing his, and he felt his very soul was being weighed in the balance. Finally, she released the loofa, but the wary expression on her beautiful face bothered him more than he wanted to admit.
Kayla had always trusted him. Why suddenly was she doubting his intentions?
He washed her body with infinite care, not being overtly sexual, but incapable of being purely platonic either. He stopped using the loofa and soaped his own hands to wash/caress every inch of her. No question. Her body was everything tempting to him.
It always had been, but now that he’d tasted her skin again, had lain between her legs and known the ultimate pleasure, there was no way he would ever look at her again without feeling at least a tinge of desire. He didn’t know how he’d managed the platonic relationship for six years, looking back on it.
When she gave a breathy little gasp and sagged against his body, he didn’t even try not to touch her intimately. She wanted more pleasure, it was in the very air around them. He could do nothing but give it to her.
He pulled her against him, nestling her bottom against his renewed erection, and cupped her generous curves. “You are so perfect here. I love your breasts, pethi mou.”
He tweaked her nipples and she cried out. The sounds of her pleasure went through him, setting off a chain reaction in his libido, telling his body to ready for claiming her body yet again. He had not been a teenager in years, but damn, he was hornier than a mindless adolescent getting his first taste of sex. He craved her like a drug.
“Again?” she asked breathlessly.
He let one hand slide down, his middle finger dipping between her legs, pressing against her clitoris, rubbing against the slick folds. “Yes, again. Say you want it.”
“I want it.” No hesitation. She didn’t demur or tease.
And he was damn grateful.
He spun her around and lifted her, pressing up into the warm, tight wetness of her body with as much eagerness as if they had not just made love twice already in his bed. Her arms and legs latched around him, the hot water cascading around them as once again their bodies joined in that ancient rhythm that brought forth primitive pleasure nothing else could duplicate.
Afterward, he carefully washed away the evidence of their lovemaking, cleaning both their bodies while she acquiesced with a sweetness born of sexual lethargy.
He nuzzled her neck as he reached around her to turn off the water. “We are perfection together.”
“Yes.” She didn’t sound particularly happy about that truth.
He did not understand why, but then he’d understood very little of her actions since she walked out of the meeting with him and Genevieve.
He tugged her from the glassed enclosure. “Come, let me dry you.”
“I can dry myself.” But she made no move to grab a towel.
He smiled, inviting her to join in the pleasant afterglow, rather than wherever her thoughts had taken her. “I know, but you know how much I enjoy this.”
“You don’t seem like the kind of guy who would enjoy pampering his lovers.”
“You are the only one.” He had never showered with another sex partner, much less dried her off afterward in an effort to care for her needs.
Kayla went still. “I am?”
“Yes.” He began drying her delectable body. “So beautiful.”
“So you keep saying.”
“Then I guess you should believe me.”
“We both know I’m not one of those supermodels you date.”
“You are you, which is far better.”
“If you say so.”
“I do.”
She shook her head.
Once he’d wrapped her in the large bath sheet, he made quick work of drying his own body. “I have a proposition for you.”
All the relaxed lethargy drained from Kayla’s countenance and body, her mouth setting in a firm line, her body going taut. “I don’t want to talk about business. I’m still on vacation.”
“It has almost nothing to do with the company.” He couldn’t say nothing because if she had fallen in with his plans to move on to his next venture with him, Andreas was not sure his eyes would have been opened to how their future was supposed to go.
“Almost nothing?” she asked with clear distrust. She shook her head again. “No. I told you, you wouldn’t sex me into your way of thinking.”
“Since when have I earned your suspicion like this?” he demanded, an unfamiliar feeling gripping at his impenetrable heart.
It might have been hurt.
“Don’t be disingenuous, Andreas.”
“I am not. We have always been able to trust each other, Kayla. That has not changed.”
Clear pain twisted her features. “Hasn’t it?”
“No.” Could she doubt it?
“We just made love.” She said it like an accusation. “Three times.”
“It was fantastic.”
She rolled her eyes. “Yes.”
“Do not roll your eyes at me. How many people in the world do you think have sex as good as what happens when our bodies are joined?”
“You think what we have is so special?” she asked with patent disbelief.
“You don’t?” he demanded.
“Then how could you just turn it off six years ago?”
“I explained that.”
“Yes.”
“I made a mistake.” He’d been looking for the wrong kind of permanence with her, but then he hadn’t been ready for this step in his life then. Taking a wife wasn’t on his agenda six years ago, taking a business partner had been.
“What? What are you saying? You made a mistake?” She sounded and looked shocked.
“Come. We’ll have this discussion in the comfort of the bedroom.” He didn’t wait for her agreement, but led her to one of the armchairs by the window.
Once she sat, he knelt on the pristine white carpet beside her, unbothered by his own nakedness, but absurdly grateful her delectable body was covered by the bath sheet. They would never get this discussion off the ground if his libido didn’t take a break, and an entirely naked Kayla would be too much of a temptation to deal with.
“I’m not discussing business. I mean it, Andreas.” Oh, she sounded cranky.
He almost smiled. “I believe you. Now, will you believe me that what I wish to talk about is more personal than business?”
“Personal?” Her voice came out in a funny little very un-Kayla-like squeak.
“Yes, personal.”
Kayla pulled her legs up so her arms could wrap around her knees in the large armchair, a very self-protective pose, if she knew it. “Okay, I’ll listen.”
“That is all I can ask.”
She gave a bark of laughter. “Don’t kid yourself, Andreas. We both know whatever it is, you’re going to expect my cooperation. I’m just warning you, I’m done being a pushover where you are concerned.”
“I have never considered you all that malleable.” If anything, she was the one person who could check him, whom he would listen to criticism from.
She didn’t answer, just made a proceed motion with her hand, before clasping it with the other tightly around her curled legs once again. Oh, she might listen, but this wary Kayla was certainly in a different place than the friend he was used to.
“One of the reasons you were so upset about my hiring Genevieve was because you believed you would of necessity be pushed from my life. Is that correct?” Despite her actions of running off to New York to make some kind of subdeal with Sebastian Hawk, Andrea
s and Kayla’s friendship was important to her too.
Realization of that fact was very comforting to him.
Kayla’s lovely full lips twisted. “Yes.”
“You believe I should spend my off-hours with my wife.” If that wife was not his best friend, he still wasn’t sure he bought the premise, but it was clear Kayla did.
“Yes.” Definitely cranky again.
And why that should spark a renewal of his libido, he had no idea, but then Kayla had always affected him differently than other women. What he would normally have no patience for he found absolutely essential in her.
Kayla noticed, her eyes widening and then narrowing with a frown. “If we’re going to have this discussion of yours, could you put something on, please?”
“Of course.” He went to get one of the hotel’s lavish terry robes.
It did not bother him a bit that his nakedness was as distracting for her as hers would have been for him. It gave him hope.
Belting the robe, he said, “Even now you do not trust me not to allow you to be pushed aside.”
“You’ve got your plans.” Shrugging, Kayla looked away. “You’re on a schedule.”
“Plans that include marriage and a family.” Was she still not getting it?
“Yes.” This time the word sounded torn from her, not annoyed, but pained.
Again. Still. It did not matter which.
He wanted that pain gone. Now. “There is a simple solution to both our dilemmas.”
“You think so?” She was looking at him again, her eyes molten silver and blazing with anger.
Anger he did not understand, but was just as determined to extinguish as the pain. “I know it.”
“What is this simple solution?” Her concrete disbelief in him having any solution that would appease her was written into every lovely aspect of her face.
He would prove his problem-solving skills were up to the task. “Marry me.”
CHAPTER TEN
KAYLA’S LIMBS WENT KERSPLUNG, her arms flailing of their own accord, her legs shooting off the chair, nearly taking the rest of her body with them. Shock deprived her lungs of oxygen as the towel she was covered with fell away at her body’s jerky movements.
“What?” she demanded, absolutely sure she was hearing things.
Deep emerald eyes widened at her reaction, Andreas dropping to his knees beside her chair again. “It is the only thing that makes any sense.”
Even fully covered by the luxurious robe, he was still a risk to her equilibrium. If the topic of their conversation hadn’t been so shocking, she would have lost her train of thought with his nearness. Andreas Kostas as a friend was dangerous to her heart and sanity, but this close? This intimate? He was pure kryptonite.
“No... You don’t know what you’re saying.” She grabbed at the bath sheet, pulling it back around her, pulling her knees back up, curling into herself and staring at him with near hatred for making her hope when she knew he didn’t mean it. “You’re not being serious.”
“Believe me.” Warm, masculine hands covered her now-cold fingers and squeezed. “I have never been more so.”
“But, Andreas, Genevieve would never approve of me for you.”
“I fired Genevieve.”
“That’s not the point.”
“What is the point?” His thumbs caressed her chilled hands, seducing her with warmth.
“You don’t want to marry me.” If he had, he would have done so six years ago. Right?
She’d finally come to terms with the truth of their relationship. He couldn’t turn everything on its head. Not now.
“But I do.” His smile was as close to self-deprecating as she’d ever seen on this arrogant Greek-American’s features. “I think you’ll realize if you consider it that you will find marriage to me a good thing.”
Was he kidding? He was the one person she’d always wanted to call family, but this made no sense. And she said so. Again.
“On the contrary, it makes all kinds of sense.”
“Oh, really?” she managed to snark past her very slowly dissipating shock. “How is that?”
His smile was devastating. “We are already family. This would simply make it official.”
Did he really believe that? The expression of sincerity in his emerald gaze said he did.
She shook her head. “But you wanted a bride pimp. For the perfect wife.”
“You fulfill every one of my requirements.”
“Requirements?” He had requirements? Wasn’t that kind of clinical? Did he think marriage was a business contract?
Clearly, the answer was yes.
“Preferences. However you want to put it.”
Yes, to Andreas, any preference he evinced, he would consider in reality to be a requirement. Kayla almost had it in her to pity Genevieve if she’d kept the position of matchmaker for such an exacting client.
“I don’t see how.”
“How what?”
“Focus, Andreas,” she said with some asperity. “That I could fulfill your requirements. I don’t have social position or family standing.”
She didn’t have any family at all, except him apparently.
He jumped up and crossed the room, coming back for the second time that day brandishing his phone. “It’s all right there.”
She looked down at the screen. It was opened to an interview intake form for Genevieve’s matchmaking service. He’d already scrolled to the question that asked Andreas to list his top-five preferences for his future partner.
He had made a neat, succinct list.
Practical, not given to emotional displays.
Must have own career.
Must have post-high-school education.
Not Greek.
Must want children.
Kayla shook her head. “Why not Greek?” was the first thing she thought to ask.
Andreas made a sound somewhere between disgust and anger, averting his gaze for a moment before meeting her eyes again, his a window into an old torment. “When I was in Greece, forced to live with my father, forced to take his name, forced to do so many things, I heard over and over again how one day I would marry a good Greek girl, someone who would do the Georgas name proud.”
There was so much old pain in his taut body right now, she couldn’t have stopped herself reaching out with one hand and sliding it into the opening of his robe to press against his heart. “Your mother was a good Greek girl.”
“I know, but even after he decided to acknowledge me, Georgas was never going to acknowledge that, or his part in her downfall with her family and community.”
“So, you are determined not to give in to even the least of his demands.”
“Exactly.”
Lucky for Andreas he’d never fallen in love, particularly with some beautiful Greek woman. It might have broken him. But then, maybe that was lucky for Kayla too, she was finally beginning to realize.
“You weren’t ever looking for someone with social standing, a family that dated back generations.”
“No. Those would be Georgas standards for measurement of a person’s worth, not mine. I am a Kostas, my own person.”
“I can be emotional,” she pointed out. She wasn’t going to pretend to be an automaton after all this time.
“You are eminently practical.” Andreas sighed and smiled. “When you aren’t haring off to New York and refusing to tell me where you are.”
“I have emotions, Andreas. I am capable of love.” She knew her social awkwardness was often interpreted as a lack in that department, or any kind of sentiment, but the truth was nothing like that.
“Good. Then you will love our children.”
She hugged her knees tighter as a thrill of hope went through her that even six years of practice tamping it down didn’t seem able to diminish. “I want to adopt out of foster care.”
“I know.”
She’d told him her dreams of doing so six years ago, but assumed he’d forgotten. “That’s
not a problem for you?” she pressed.
“No. Though I am hopeful your willingness to forego birth control today indicates an openness to trying for children with our DNA, as well. I want Melia Kostas to live on in my children.”
It was such a sentimental, emotional thing to say, Kayla was flabbergasted. “I did the math, the chances of pregnancy during this time in my cycle were astronomically low.”
“There’s that practical side to your nature showing itself.” His lips quirked, his green eyes filled with amusement.
“Do not laugh at me, Andreas.”
“I’m not, pethi mou. The fact is, even a one-in-a-thousand chance remains a chance and you would not have taken it if you were unwilling to have children with me.”
“I know.”
“So?”
“Would you treat all our children the same?” His answer mattered, enough she would turn him down if he gave the wrong one.
Kayla had spent her entire childhood standing on the outside of the families she lived with, looking in. She would never allow that for her own children. Not if she could help it.
And she was determined to help it.
He curled both hands over hers again, scooting farther into her personal space, his body heat surrounding her. “Any child we bring into our home, any child who has reason to call me Papa, will enjoy every ounce of my protection, my support and my love. Adopted, natural or born to us within our marriage, no child of mine will ever doubt their importance to me. How can you doubt it?”
Kayla’s heart just melted. Was it any wonder she’d loved this man since she knew him? Despite his corporate-shark side, he understood what really mattered.
“I guess I don’t.”
“Good.”
She wanted to give in, but part of her still wondered how this could be real. “Why now? Why not six years ago?”
“Six years ago, I was not ready to marry.”
Right. It hadn’t been part of the plan right out of graduate school. “Now you are.”
“It is time.”
His words served as a cold reminder that Andreas was not asking her to marry him in some grand romantic gesture, but because he had a plan to prove to his overbearing father that Andreas Kostas was every bit as good, or better than he ever would have been as Andreas Georgas.