He’s still yelling...or talking very passionately? I don’t know. I throw my hands up in the air. “Nicolai? What is wrong?”
He squeezes his eyes shut and then, with a shake of his head, he turns and strides to the en suite bathroom and slams the door.
What the fuck?
There’s nothing like an outright refusal to sober a girl up. As I listen to water running in the other room, I sit in the middle of the bed and replay the events of the last few hours over in my head. Dinner, the erotic play at the fortress, the walk home, Nicolai asking to kiss me...
He did ask me, right? I didn’t force a kiss on him, did I?
An awful thought materializes.
What if...what if he was just going to give me a little goodnight air kiss, the way the Europeans always do—kiss-kiss—and in my inebriated state, I misinterpreted it? Oh God! He’d been trying to tell me all along, albeit in Greek, but judging by his body language, he was trying to tell me that he wasn’t into me. He totally wasn’t into me!
Did I listen? No. I tore at his clothes like a rabid animal. I pulled him into my bedroom and pushed him onto my bed and stripped him and jumped him. I basically didn’t give him a choice.
Covering my face, I groan because I realize that I have just acted like the cougar I swore I’d never be.
Oh shit! Shitty, shit, shit, shit.
I jump off the bed and wrestle my shirt back on. The last thing I want is to be sitting here, half-naked, looking like a dejected cougar. My stomach roils with embarrassment and my head pounds from an early-onset hangover.
I rush out to the kitchenette, pull a bottle of water out of the refrigerator and press the cool plastic to my forehead, rolling it back and forth.
When Nicolai reappears a few minutes later, I wonder if I look as awkward and embarrassed as he looks. His face is red, his hair is totally wild, as if he’s pushed his hands through multiple times and his eyes are dark and...angry? Is that what that black look means?
As if reading some bad script we both open our mouths and the words, “I’m sorry,” come tumbling out in unison.
I laugh—uneasily.
Nicolai’s nostrils flare with some grim emotion.
Oh my God. How could I have screwed this up so badly? I long for a rewind button on my life. I’d take myself all the way back to meeting Nicolai on the street this evening. What did he say? “You are eating in this evening, aren’t you?”
But instead of going back with Nicolai, I’d apologize and explain that I'd changed my mind. Instead, I’d go out to Molly’s Taverna, like I’d planned. I’d have a nice meal, meet a nice, thirty to forty-something single man. A tourist probably. We’d talk, we’d laugh, we’d dance, and then...we’d either agree to meet again tomorrow or we’d go back to his hotel and I’d throw all my unspent arousal at him.
Not Nicolai.
Dammit! Why didn’t I do that? Why did I have to follow Nicolai, with that fine round hiney of his, all the way back to the guesthouse? It was tempting fate and I should have known better.
“Nicolai,” I say, cringing because the simple act of uttering his name is painful. “I’m so sorry.” I take a step toward him but he hastily retreats as if I’m about to attack again.
I put my hands up to show him I mean him no harm.
He shakes his head and shoves a hand through his thick curls. “Don’t apologize. It’s not your fault.”
A cynical laugh bursts out of my chest. “Not my fault?” The laugh, that’s not really a laugh, erupts again. “I jumped you. Attacked you. I nearly made you...God! Who does that?”
I can read his expression now. He’s perplexed. And, for the first time since we’ve reconnected, I recognize Medea’s young grandson in his expression. The way he’s looking at me now is exactly the way Nico used to regard me when I was here seven years ago.
“Is that what you think?”
“Uh, yeah.”
Letting his head fall back, Nicolai groans at the ceiling. “Fuck.”
Am I still drunk? Because his response to my apology is not making sense.
“It’s okay, Nicolai. You don’t have to lie. If you’re not attracted to me, I understand. I’m a lot older than you and I took advantage of—”
“Tessa.” My name shoots out of his mouth like a bullet from an assault rifle.
“What?”
“It’s not you. It’s me.”
I laugh because the line is so clichéd and so overused, I can’t help it. “Nice try.”
“Jesus.” He paces the length of the room. “I’m attracted to you, okay? Very attracted to you.” By the way he cringes when he says this, it’s as if he doesn’t want to be attracted to me or he’s embarrassed by his attraction.
“Did I do something to embarrass you?”
His reply is a deep growl at the back of his throat. After pressing his hands to his temples, he gives me one last pain filled look and makes for the door.
“Wait,” I shout, running after him. “Where are you going?”
“I’m sorry. I have to leave. I should never have come up here.”
Before he can open the door to my suite, I grab his shirt tail. “Oh no you don’t. Not before you explain yourself, buddy, because I’m at a loss here. On the one hand, you’re telling me I was correctly reading your come-on signals.”
“You were,” he says to the closed door.
“But...your body language is screaming that you’re repulsed by me.”
I’m not prepared for how swiftly he turns around to face me. His face is flushed, his full lips are pulled back in a snarl and he’s breathing really hard.
“Repulsed? Are you fucking kidding me?”
He grabs my arms and slams me against the closed door. He’s right up against me. Snatching my closed fist, he forces my hand against the rigid flesh covered by his fly. “Is this the reaction of a man who’s repulsed?”
“I don’t know what the hell this is.” I wrench my fist out of his grasp and try to push him away but he doesn’t budge.
His nostrils flare as he regards me as if he’s having a very hard time keeping himself in check. Though he’s clearly aroused, he doesn’t do anything about it. He doesn’t gyrate against me, he doesn’t use his knee to force my legs apart. He just stands there, pressed up against me, staring at me, breathing hard.
I’m breathing hard too.
Finally, he closes his eyes and bows his head. He whispers something, I think it’s in English, but it’s too quiet for me to make out.
“What?” I whisper back.
“Tessa, I don’t know what the hell I’m doing.” His beautiful eyes open and I can see some emotion, but I don’t know what it is—anger maybe?
His nostrils flare wider. His breathing becomes more labored. Little muscles tick along the side of his jaw. Suddenly, he slams his fist into the door beside me and I hear wood splinter.
“Fuck!”
He moves away, shaking what must be a very painful hand. But apparently there are other things going on with Nicolai that are more painful because his hand is soon forgotten as he paces the length of the room from the kitchen to the door and back again.
“I thought I could do it,” He mutters. “I thought it’d be okay. With you, of all people.”
He turns to look at me.
Umm, what’s that supposed to mean? With me, of all people?
“But I...I can’t do it. I can’t fucking do it!” He slams his hand against the kitchen cupboard and grunts in pain.
I rush over because two crushing blows with the same fist have left his knuckles split and bleeding. “You’re hurt,” I say, grabbing his hand and running it under cold water. I open the small freezer compartment and pull out a tray of ice cubes to make a cold compress.
Once I’ve got his hand wrapped in a tea towel full of ice, I grab another bottle of water out of the fridge. Indicating the French doors that lead out onto my private terrace, I say, “Let’s go sit outside, okay?”
His expression sa
ys that’s the last thing he wants to do, but I don’t care what he wants to do. I’ll lock him in, if I have to. He’s not leaving before he tells me what the hell is going on.
With obvious reluctance, he follows me out onto the terrace. Once we’re seated in a pair of comfortable lounge chairs, facing the ocean, I say, “Do you want to tell me what ‘it’ is?”
He takes a drink of water.
“You thought you could do it. You don’t know what to do about it. Nicolai, what is ‘it’?”
After a lengthy silence, he says, “It’s not important.”
I watch him as he’s staring out at the lights of the town below. “Obviously, it is.”
When he still doesn’t answer, I say, “Can I make some guesses?”
He groans.
“You’re attracted to me but you don’t want to be because I’m too old for you.”
“No. You’re not too old for me.”
“Do you know how old I am?”
“You’re thirty-six.”
“How do you know that?”
He glances my way. “I Googled you.”
“What? Why?”
“I saw your name on the online registration and I wanted to make sure you were the same person who was here before.”
“Why would you do that?”
He doesn’t answer and I continue trying to figure him out when a sudden thought occurs to me. “Oh my God, are you gay?”
“I’m not gay.”
“It’s totally okay if you are. I can help you come out if—”
“No, Tessa. That’s not it.” He makes an exasperated sound.
“Then what’s wrong?”
He shakes his head and stands. “I need to go.”
Suddenly the truth dawns on me. “You’re in a relationship, aren’t you?” It’s more of a statement than a question.
He stands still. I hear him swallow so I figure I must have guessed right.
“I’m sorry,” I say, standing, putting my hand on his arm. “If I had any idea you were in a relationship, I never would have...well, I wouldn’t have attacked you like that.”
He turns to me, his face pinched as if he’s in pain. “That’s not it.”
“Then what is it?”
He looks down at me, blinking. I can practically see the wheels turning inside his mind. Finally, he sighs and sits back down, elbows on knees and head in his hands.
I sit too. Waiting. Watching.
Very softly, he says, “I’ve never been with a woman.”
His words don’t compute. “But you said you weren’t gay.”
“I’m not.”
“So you’ve never been with a man either.”
“No.”
“So, you’re a...oh. Oh!” I cover my open mouth. “Oh my God. Tell me you’re not saying what I think you’re saying.”
Even in the dark, his posture says it all. “I’m a virgin, Tessa, and I need your help.”
Chapter Four
I stare at the man sitting beside me, unable to believe what he’s telling me. “You’re lying.”
“Unfortunately, I’m not.”
“But...that’s not possible. I mean, look at you.” I wave my hand around in his general direction. “You’re all fucking gorgeous. How can you be a virgin?”
He inhales, then exhales rather noisily before replying. “I think I mentioned that I went to boarding school in London, right?”
“Yeah.”
“It was an all-boys school.”
“Okay. But you came back when you were, what? Fifteen? Sixteen?”
“Right. Then, it was just me and my grandmother.”
“Okay. So...?”
Big sigh. “I was...” he shrugs again and looks my way, but his head blocks the outside light and in the darkness I can’t make out his expression. “You met me. I was shy.” He rubs his forehead and continues quietly. “Then grandmother got sick and I had to take care of her and run the guesthouse while the Greek economy fell apart. I didn’t have time for anything else, least of all women.”
Holy shit. No wonder he seems so much older than his years. I contemplate his confession. It seems completely impossible. Yet, it goes a long way to explaining what just happened inside.
“What about this past year?”
He makes a noise deep in his chest. “There are only two options for me.” He indicates the lights of the town with a sweep of his hand. “Someone local.” He shakes his head. “Bad choice. Even if I was interested in someone, which I’m not, it’d be impossible.”
“Why?”
“Molyvos is a very small town. I’m related to half of the people here. Then there’s the issue of my parentage. Or lack of parentage.” He pauses and rubs his jaw. “I’m the no-good-bastard-son of Medea’s slutty daughter.”
“Is that what people think?”
He nods. “What makes it even worse is my mother didn’t know her father either.” Shrugging as if growing up without a father, losing his mother and then being ostracized is no big deal, he says, “Immorality runs in my blood, apparently. No mother wants me near her daughter because they’re all convinced I’ll get her pregnant and bolt.” He laughs without humor. “I’ve been shunned for even looking at a girl the wrong way. So, I stay far away from locals.”
I’m starting to see Nicolai through a new set of eyes. Holy hell, it must have been hard growing up being an outcast in his own home. Molyvos might be quaint, but these antiquated attitudes leave a bitter taste in my mouth.
However, equally unpalatable is his explanation. “But, Molyvos is a tourist town. Surely you’ve met your share of available and willing female tourists?”
He looks at his hands. “I have no experience. Any woman I want expects that I do.”
“That’s not true.” I place my hand on his knee. “There are plenty of young girls who would give anything to have a little vacation tryst with the likes of you. With or without experience. Trust me.”
The muscle beneath my hand flexes and I notice he’s staring where my hand is resting on his leg.
“I’m not interested in young women.” His gaze sweeps up to my face. “I’m interested in experienced women. Like you.”
“Like me?”
“Yes, Tessa. Like you.” He lifts my hand off his leg and drops it. Then he gets up and stalks off to stand at the railing of the terrace, staring into the darkness. From where I’m sitting, he looks every bit like a god of Olympus scowling upon his mortal realm below.
I give him a few moments alone before joining him at the railing. “So,” I say. “You like older women.”
“Yes.”
“And they expect you to know stuff.”
“Yes.” He looks at me. “But I don’t, so I never make a move.”
“But you made a move tonight.”
“You’re different. At least, I thought it would be different with you.”
“Holy shit,” I whisper more to myself than to him. “You were about to lose your virginity to me.” I don’t know why this thought has taken so long to sink in, but once it does, I feel like I’ve been clocked on the back with a sledgehammer and it’s hard to breathe. “My God, Nicolai. You can’t just do that. You can’t pull something like that over on an unsuspecting victim. How did you think I’d react when I found out?”
“You weren’t supposed to find out.”
“Of course I would have found out.”
“How?”
“By...I don’t know how, but I found out, didn’t I?”
He shakes his head and scowls. Staring out at the darkness, it’s obvious he’s upset. But so am I.
He turns to me, looking down at me. The outside light shines across half of his face and I can see the burning intensity in those startling eyes. “I need your help, Tessa. I need you to change this for me.”
My body—traitorous bitch—is saying, ‘hell yeah, let’s go!’ But I’m sober now and I am finally able to access the reason center of my brain. Waving my hands in front of me, I say,
“Oh no. No, no, no. I’m not going to take your virginity, Nico. I can’t do it. I’m sorry.”
“I’m not asking you to take it. I’m asking you to change it.” His nostrils flare as he leans closer, still not touching, but close none the less. “Please, Tessa.”
Oh man. His body is less than an inch from mine. I can feel his warm breath on my face and smell the hot scent of his skin. It fills my senses, consuming me with desire. Overwhelming desire.
Despite everything that’s happened, I still want him.
I need him.
I want to say yes.
He wants me to say yes...
I shake my head and back away. “No. Nico. No.”
***
Considering how tired I was after the long day of travel, I barely sleep. Now that it’s morning, I sit out on the private terrace, enjoying the cool morning breeze, wishing that the tranquility of the setting could settle the disquiet within me. But it doesn’t. Of course I stayed up half the night thinking about what happened and thinking about Nicolai’s request.
And yes, I’ll admit it, I imagined all kinds of crazy, wonderful, x-rated scenarios involving my handsome young host. The fantasies went on and on and on. I must have eventually dozed, because the scenarios became much more dreamlike, though still excruciatingly vivid—with tastes, touch, sexual sensations that lingered long after I woke up. I dreamed Nicolai and I were starring in the play, Daphnis and Chloe, up at the fortress. He’d forgotten his lines and the blocking for the threesome sex scene, so I had to coach him through it. ‘Touch her there, yes that’s right,’ I whispered in my dream. ‘Kiss me here. Move down. Stroke my clit. Tongue my cunt. Now hers.’
I rub my knees together in an attempt to quell the never-ending need pulsing through my body, made worse by the fact that Nicolai, a young Adonis, is basically asking me to be his own personal Lycaenion: initiator, teacher, tutor, lover. It’s been a fantasy of mine since as long as I can remember. Even if it weren’t, Nicolai’s plea for help is compelling. Completely compelling. I know I should refuse him, but...I am only human.
When I hear a firm rap on the door to my suite, I experience the strangest sensation of hot and cold coursing simultaneously through my body. It’s no secret who is standing on the other side and I know that I am about to not only open a literal door, I’m about to open a figurative one as well.
Seduction in the Sun: Adult Romance Box Set (9 Sizzling Tales with BBW, Billionaires, Bad Boys, and Alpha Males) Page 41