by Julia Devlin
With a tilt of my chin, I reached into my small evening clutch and pulled out a business card, handing it over to Jonathan. “I’m available Friday for lunch.”
Triumph lit his brown eyes and he couldn’t resist greeting Christos with a mocking curve of his mouth. My card slid into his breast pocket, and my stomach sank to my toes. “I look forward to it, Juliet.”
I gritted my teeth, instantly regretting my actions. Where was the satisfaction? I searched but couldn’t find any.
Christos’ fingers stroked over my hip and then his lips dropped to my ear. “There’s no way in hell you’re going anywhere with him.”
Dizzying pleasure sped through my blood as his hot palm branded my flesh. Claiming me in a way as old as time.
My skin flushed as my heart pounded.
The possession in his voice, the confidence in his words, I liked it. Craved it. Words of indignation died on my lips.
I wanted him so bad. Too damn bad.
The truth hit me. It was only a matter of time. One way or another I’d succumb to his wishes, his desires. He was going to win.
And when he left—and he would leave—I’d be shattered.
I needed to get away.
I wrenched from Christos’ grasp. Plastering a smile on my lips, I nodded to the two men. “Excuse me.”
Throat tight, I turned on my high heels and walked away.
This time, I was the one who didn’t look back. I weaved through the crowded room, nodding to acquaintances, my gaze roaming for a place to find some privacy.
Off to the right, I spotted a darkened corridor, a strand of thick red rope blocking passage. As quickly as my four-inch evening shoes would carry, I made my way to safety.
After all the time I’d spent waiting for him, now I couldn’t escape fast enough. His presence unnerved me as every emotion I’d experienced over the past week welled to the surface and vied for attention.
I reached the rope and undid the large silver clasp, slipping through before refastening the meager restraint. My fingers stalled on the cold metal. All my carefully assembled defenses, that had so long been effective in keeping me safe, were as meager and useless as this rope in the face of Christos’ determination.
I began walking down the deserted corridor, my heels clicking on the smooth marble floor.
Even with the expansive ceilings, the walls felt tight.
What was I doing here? I need to go home. Climb into sweats, wash away my makeup, put my blonde hair in a ponytail and curl up on the couch.
But what really waited for me there?
An empty, lonely townhome that reminded me of a time when what I’d had in my life had been more than enough. Anger welled inside me. I wanted that back, damn it.
Somewhere amidst the rubble, my prior comfort and contentment hid, but for the life of me, it continued to elude me.
“Juliet.” Christos’ voice echoed down the corridor along with his pounding footsteps.
This was all his fault.
I’d been fine before. Fine.
Yes. Anger. I embraced it. The fury blocked out the need better than any other piece of arsenal I carried. I whirled to face him.
“How dare you.” My voice shook as I jabbed a finger in his direction.
In a flash he was on me—gaze blazing—jaw set in a hard line. Long fingers encircled my wrist in an iron grip, and he hauled me forward.
I stumbled, losing my balance. He caught me around the waist and pulled me close.
His mouth claimed mine before I could say another word.
Oh yes. The icy anger melted into warm, hot liquid.
His lips moved over mine. Our tongues met. Breath mingled. Our bodies pressed together like missing puzzle pieces.
A low moan spilled out of my throat and he caught the sound with his lips. His fingers dug into the curve of my spine. My breasts flattened against his chest.
I struggled against him and he held me fast.
Even I, in all my vehement denial, couldn’t pretend I was trying to break free. Not while my hand gripped the back of his neck and my palm curled into the lapel of the tux.
He walked me backward, swinging me around until my bare back pressed along a cold marbled surface.
His head angled, deepening the kiss.
I rose to tiptoe. Wanting closer. Needing closer. My god, it wasn’t enough. I moaned in frustration as I strained to somehow seep into him. This kiss—it had to be enough. Eventually I’d have to pull away.
But for now, I surrendered. I liked to believe that it had been my choice to do so, but I couldn’t be sure.
A low growl vibrated in his chest. Then his hand was at my thigh, pulling the fabric up and up. I flexed the muscle, raising my leg so it slipped through the side slit. His fingers brushed bare skin.
I jerked as sensation radiated from his palm. Wanton and crazed with long-denied lust, I hooked my leg at his hip. I wanted his cock to fill me right here. I rose up to meet his erection, which nudged the cleft between my thighs.
I needed to be filled. Claimed. Taken.
He tore his mouth away. The cool air hit my swollen, wet lips.
I wanted him back.
He dipped his head to my neck, licking and sucking where my pulse beat a frantic rhythm. He bit the lobe of my ear. “Mine. Juliet. You’re mine, goddamn you. Don’t you see how you belong to me?”
Yes! The word screamed in my head. My fingers bit into the black fabric as I fought the tide of lust and fear raging inside me.
The words he wanted to hear hovered on my lips, desperate to get out. But I couldn’t say them. Couldn’t admit the truth.
Couldn’t admit that he had all the power.
Instead, I pressed my lips to the line of his jaw and squeezed my eyes shut to keep the tears from slipping out.
“He can’t have you,” he whispered in a hard, uneven rasp. “Tell me you won’t go.”
Reality returned like a rush of a tidal wave.
All I craved was the oblivion only his touch provided. I wanted to rage at him for ripping it away so cruelly.
If I gave this to him, I’d be giving him everything. And we both knew it.
I shook my head as I fought to control the foreign desire to give him whatever he wanted. Fought to control my body’s response that wanted to devour him like a glutton’s last meal.
“It’s business.” My heart broke as soon as the words left my lips.
He stilled, his muscles tensing and bunching.
I loosened my grip.
He raised his head.
My hands fell away.
He stepped back.
The loss was crushing.
Throat tight, I swallowed past the lump trapping all of my air. I wanted to say the words. The need to say them beat a pounding rhythm in my chest, desperate to break free. If I let them go, maybe they would free me too?
But my lips pressed firmly closed. And I hated myself for it.
I’d known it would be over all too quickly.
As hard as I kissed him, as hard as I tried to memorize his touch and the way he felt under my hands, as hard as I tried to imprint the weight of him against me, it hadn’t been enough. With him, it would never be enough.
He met my gaze, his green eyes turbulent. “Why?”
I shifted my attention, staring at the blurring work of art on the wall over his left shoulder.
He gripped my chin and jerked my attention back. “At least look at me while you lie through your teeth.”
I steeled my expression and met his stare. “Leave me alone, Christos.”
His fingers tightened along my jaw. “I can’t do that.”
“Why?” My chest squeezed.
“How else can I prove to you that I’ll keep coming back?” He lowered his head and licked at the seam of my lips. “How else can I prove it’s not a game?”
My ribs constricted. Why couldn’t I believe him? People thought I was a risk taker, but I wasn’t. Where it really counted in life, I was a cowa
rd. The cold, hard truth was I’d been guarded for so long I no longer knew how to be any other way. I almost cried as my stubborn pride refused to give him what he needed to hear.
And I felt it—his need for me, his desire—the problem was I didn’t know how to trust it. To trust him.
He sighed. His mouth curved down as his expression set in resignation. “Will you ever give an inch?”
“I-I don’t know how.” The truth of my words vibrated through the empty corridor.
“I know.” He stroked my cheek. “You’re not a game, Juliet.”
I frowned. So badly I wanted to ask the question—how could he want me? It didn’t make any sense. There were a million women out there better than me. Soft, willing, happy women who would be able to give him everything—so why would he want me? When I’d never be whole enough? The desire to know the answer burned in my stomach, but I didn’t ask. I was too afraid it would make me look weak.
He tilted my chin, leaned down and brushed his lips against mine. It was sweet and tender. A kiss of promise, of truth.
It made me want to sob. To sink into it and never come up for air. Our mouths hovered until I was leaning into him, desperate for more.
“Tell me how to make you believe?” His words whispered across my sensitive skin and sank into my bones until I ached.
I didn’t know how to tell him I was too afraid to believe. I pulled away and a bitter cold replaced all the heat he’d generated. I looked behind him again and willed myself not to cry. At least for a couple more minutes. My chest was so tight, so constricted I felt as if I might snap. I shook my head. “You can’t.”
Chapter Four
A whisper along skin.
A rush of tingles exploded down my neck, pushing me into wakefulness when all I wanted was to float along in that place between dreams and consciousness. I squeezed my lids tight, desperate to recapture the sleep that had been eluding me.
“Juliet.”
His voice. I sighed in contentment, relaxing into the warmth of that low, deep rumble.
Fingers ran through the strands of my hair.
Reality rushed over me. I jolted awake, my head jerking as it fell off the palm it rested on. I blinked my desk into focus. Sucked in a breath and held it tight in my lungs. For the third time that week I’d dozed off in my office.
Insomnia did that to a person.
I’d been dreaming of him. Again. He’d invaded my dreams just as he’d invaded my life.
“Sorry I woke you.” Christos. I tilted my chin up and there he was.
Gorgeous in a light camel-colored causal sweater and jeans, he smiled down at me, his finger tracing the line of my jaw.
I released the pent-up air. It had been six days since I’d seen him. An eternity. Although I hated my weakness, hated how much I wanted him, my heart sang in joy. “You’re here.”
“Katherine let me in.”
Later, I’d think about if I should kiss her or kill her.
He nodded, glanced the clock on my desk. “You didn’t go.”
I didn’t have to ask what he meant. I knew.
When Jonathan had called, I’d declined the invitation. In the end, it had been the only choice. The denial that Christos had anything to do with my decision sat poised on my tongue—I sighed, a long deep breath that sounded as weary as I felt—I couldn’t.
I was too tired to fight, to struggle. I cleared the sleep and the protest from my throat. “No, I didn’t.”
Something flickered in the green depths of his eyes. “Why?”
I couldn’t deny my happiness in seeing him, but I hadn’t become a different person overnight. If he expected me to voice the confession of what we both already knew, he would be waiting a long time. With a shake of my head, I bit the inside of my cheek.
One corner of his mouth tilted up. “That’s all I’m going to get?”
“I didn’t want to,” I said, shrugging one shoulder.
A chuckle vibrated from his chest. “I’ll take it.” He held out an outstretched hand. “Come with me to the couch, I bought you something.”
Unable to resist, I glanced over my shoulder and what I saw made my chest squeeze tight. My vision blurred as my eyes welled with sudden, unexpected tears. They’d been doing that a lot lately. Once the dam broke, I didn’t seem to be able to stop. It made me remember why I stopped crying in the first place, and I longed to find that numb place again. But it eluded me.
My fingers trembled as I pressed them to my lips. I blinked rapidly.
On the square coffee table in front of the couch he’d set out a picnic. Spread over the white tablecloth was two crystal goblets, a couple bottles of wine and a tray of cheese. Large red grapes and lush strawberries overfilled a bowl. A platter of sandwiches filled a plate. In the center of the table was a low glass vase packed to the brim with blood-red roses. No leaves, no filler, just a tight bunch of flowers. A beautiful slash of color across the white linen.
It was the sweetest, most romantic gesture anyone had ever done for me. I’d believed I hated romance, hated the soft gooeyness of it—but I was so wrong. Pleasure swelled in my chest until it felt as though it might burst.
I glanced over at him, he watched me with that intent expression he wore. Trying to peer inside my head and learn all my secrets. I swallowed back the lump in my throat. “Y-you…” My voice came out as a strangled croak and I cleared it. “You did this for me?”
He shifted his large frame so he faced me, raising his hand, his strong fingers curled over my neck. The weight of his palm so right, and I didn’t know what to make of it.
I should feel suffocated, not safe.
The sense of security washed over me so powerful and intense, I had to force myself to stay upright. As if he read my mind, his fingers tightened and his other hand slid along my waist.
Steadying me. He anchored me like my own personal port in the emotional storm. His thumb slid over my bottom lip. “I would do anything for you, my Juliet.”
My jaw tightened. The truth of his words shining in his eyes. He was winning. Slowly but surely, each time he came back, each time I saw him, he chipped away at my defenses and I found myself believing.
“Thank you,” I said, my tone shaky. For the first time in my life, I wanted to talk, to spill those secrets he seemed to want. But the feeling was so foreign, so out of my comfort zone, panic washed over me, making my blood rush through my veins and a low buzz fill my head.
He smiled then, a heartbreaker of a smile that melted some of the ice I kept around me like a second skin. “You don’t owe me anything, except to eat until you’re full.” He glanced down, his lips curving wider, making him look almost boyish. “You’re looking a little scrawny.”
“That’s a lie!” The tension broke and I laughed a little, the sound rusty. I wasn’t heavy, but I wasn’t anywhere close to scrawny.
He cocked his head to the side, and his expression flashed with something purely male. “You’ve lost weight.”
I shrugged. Maybe a little. The stress of the last few weeks had had an effect on both my appetite and my ability to sleep.
“I like you better with some meat on your bones.”
I opened my mouth to say something scathing, but he chose that moment to swoop down and capture my lips with his.
The kiss was searing. Liquid heat poured through me as our mouths fused together. It was like coming home. Exactly where I was supposed to be.
I pressed close, desperate for the feel and taste of him. He kissed like no man I’d ever known. Taking and demanding yet so fully focused on me it was impossible to resist. Impossible not to surrender and give him everything he wanted.
I lost myself in him. And the thought both thrilled and scared me.
How did I stay whole when another person consumed me?
He broke the kiss, his breath ragged as he pressed his forehead into mine. We stayed like that for long, silent minutes, exchanging air as we both struggled to control the desire between us.
&
nbsp; “I want you, Juliet. But I’m not going to fuck you on the floor of your office.” A strangled-sounding chuckle rumbled from his chest. “At least not until I’ve had you a few dozen times.”
A couple weeks ago I would have protested, but my mouth stayed firmly shut. There didn’t seem to be any point in denying the obvious. Christos would be inside me, and I didn’t just mean his cock. I meant him. And I wanted him there. Despite every single argument, rational thought and belief I had, I still didn’t want to say no to him anymore.
For at least this brief moment in time.
He nipped at my lower lip and a piercing pleasure shot through me. “Let’s go eat.”
Moments later, he nestled me into the couch, tucking me into the corner. To my surprise, despite the wary, uncomfortable feeling sitting in the pit of my stomach, I let him. For the simple reason that I wanted to make him happy. From the second I’d met him I’d been nothing but a prickly pain in the ass, and I wanted to show him at least a glimpse of the woman I could be.
I wanted to show us both a glimmer of the woman I wanted to be.
He sat beside me and trailed his hand down my bare thigh and over my knee, leaving a path of goose bumps in his wake. He reached lower and encircled my ankle with his long fingers, drawing my foot onto his thigh. The sharp heel of my shoe poised on his jeans, forcing my legs to part ever so slightly as my skirt rose up. I stared down at the picture we presented.
The angle of my leg. The slope of my calf. His dark fingers wrapped around my fair skin. Warmth rushed to my belly at the image we presented, erotic and intimate.
I met his eyes. The green depths blazed with heat and hunger. His fingers stroked over my ankle. “Let me take care of you.” His words were a husky plea.
I fell. Gave in. Surrendered. For now.
With my heart pounding in my ears and fear rushing through my veins, I nodded.
Relief and sheer pleasure flashed over his expression. He lifted my foot and dipped his head. The thick black hair like silk as it brushed along my skin. I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from crying out.