One Week in Greece

by Demi Alex

  “Yes, he unleashed the beast in Miss Prim and Proper,” Justin said, shaking his head. “He gets her, identifies with her uppity upbringing and history, and knows how to deal with her in order to make her realize what she wants.”

  “They’re a perfect fit,” Paul added, considering how well the couples complimented one and other.

  “Like us,” Justin said, settling his arms around Paul’s waist and pressing his torso against his chest. “We fit.” He leaned in and touched his lips to Paul’s in a soft but strong kiss. “Fuck, I love you.”

  “I love you,” Paul echoed, pulling him closer and deepening the kiss, wanting to reassure Justin that he was with him in every step of life. He had his back. Would always have his back. No matter what came their way.

  Broad shoulders lifted and Paul felt Justin’s smile against his lips. “Maybe I’ve already found love—”

  “Or love found you,” Paul offered, running his palm down Justin’s chiseled bicep, all the way to his hand, and interlacing their fingers.

  “Doesn’t matter. The point is I have love,” Justin said. “So maybe I can do a spin-off of the girls’ articles and try my hand on writing a piece featuring Mykonos as a romantic getaway? This place has magic. The light. The energy. Love pulses in the damn air here.”

  “Yeah, that’s rather poetic,” Paul said, hesitant to encourage Justin, even if it kept his focus off what looked like a doomed rekindling with the woman he wanted back in his life. He went for easy-going and carefree. “Maybe you should keep to your spreadsheets, number magic, and leave the writing to the professionals?”

  Paul had seen his man’s attempts at writing, and either the articles were flat and boring, or embellished with imagery and big words. It would be professional suicide and City Wings would take a huge hit. The readership would tear them apart for publishing flowery prose and have a field day with it on social networks. He shook his head and prayed he didn’t need to elaborate.

  “Whatever,” Justin grumbled.

  Paul touched his lips to the side of Justin’s neck in order to hide his smirk and keep from making a smartass remark. He knew this newfound desire to write about romantic getaways was because of Bethany. Their reunion had done a number on him. He also knew what the woman had once meant to him. No need to poke at old sores.

  The ferry entered the port, and he singled out the quaint homes, with brightly painted wooden doors, occupied by friends. The labyrinth of narrow whitewashed streets in town held some of Paul’s favorite places on Earth, and he was itching to get on land and start convincing his uncle to keep the resort, but first he had to address Justin’s pain.

  “I’m sorry Bethany hasn’t shown,” he said, tempering his own concerns.

  “Kind of expected. She was spooked. We’ll wait for her at the café. Hopefully, she’ll come and we can drop her at her hotel on the way to the resort. We can even go to the bakery together.” Justin searched the deck again, just like he had for the past hour, but Bethany was nowhere to be seen. “She loves honey, so she’ll love the Mykonos cheese pie. You know, the special one that sweet grandma makes for us with the honey inside. And she’ll fall in love with freddo cappuccinos.”

  “What’s wrong with a classic frappé?” Paul was relieved, but at the same time concerned, that Justin was talking about it, so he tried to keep the conversation light. He chuckled and stepped around Justin, giving his shoulders a playful squeeze. “I promise we’ll stop at the bakery on the way to my uncle’s.”

  “Good,” Justin said. “But you know it’s not as cool to drink a frappé as it is to have a freddo cappuccino. Need to get with the times. Frappé is passé.”

  Frappé is passé? Since when did his traditional and ultra proper man speak in rhyme? “Screw that. If I want a classic frappé, I’m having it.”

  Justin laughed and shook his head. “You’ve always liked what you like.”

  “That’s true,” Paul agreed. “I like my frappé, and I like this place. I get to share the two with you. What else could I ask for?”

  “I can’t believe Kosta is considering giving this up.” Justin’s face turned sad, and Paul knew that in spite of spewing all that stuff about supporting his uncle, Justin really didn’t want the resort sold either.

  “He won’t,” Paul mumbled. “I won’t.”

  “Land of hot sun, hotter sand, and hottest opportunities. I’m going to miss it,” Justin said.

  “We’re not going to miss anything. We’re going to remind Theo Kosta how much he loves this place,” Paul said, knowing that his uncle Kosta had an insane love affair with the resort. The man had built buildings with his own hands, landscaped the grounds, and poured his heart into every nook and cranny of the physical structures.

  “I’m sure your theo remembers,” Justin said.

  “The first step is to get him to admit it. Then we’ll implement new practices that will allow the resort to run with a minimal amount of overseeing. There are devoted and capable employees that can step up to more responsibilities with the proper training. Once all that’s done, he’ll forget about letting a huge conglomerate ruin our place.”

  “You can’t dictate his future. It’s not right, so don’t force it,” Justin said.

  “Sounds familiar,” Paul retorted, recalling what he’d said about forcing Bethany to accept them. “Good advice.” Advice Paul knew neither of them would follow.

  Since he’d only just met her and his instant attraction for her was physical—fuck it, it was pure lust—he’d been able to think with his brain once she’d left them alone. And once the long-term reality of the tempting Bethany had really sunk in, he’d made a conscious decision to dismiss the possibility of what he knew would be a very satisfying tryst.

  It was unlikely that he’d be hurt by a fling. But he didn’t want her hurt. He didn’t want Justin hurt. If she ever did show or call, they’d need to find a way to be friends.

  Caution played in his mind, and his thoughts meandered back to the resort.

  “Look at the hustle on the port,” Justin said, seemingly calm and collected. Maybe, just maybe, he really did believe things would work out.

  Trucks backed up to the loading area, island shuttles lined the street, and the cafés emptied of the local innkeepers waiting to collect new guests.

  “It’s amazing how Chora can have so much traffic around it and still look so picturesque,” Paul said, deciding he had to trust Justin on Bethany and not obsess on how he’d handle it. Justin was smart, strong, and rarely wrong. Paul would concentrate on what he was good at: their business, the local industry, and family. “I know it’s one of the most popular party destinations in the world, but there is something so comforting and homey about it.” The ship bumped against the dock and he widened his stance to brace himself. “It has a unique energy.”

  “I feel it,” Justin agreed, rubbing his hands up and down his arms. “And I’m not just talking about the wind whipping into my pores.”

  “It’s extra gusty today.” Keeping an arm around Justin, Paul leaned down and reached for his backpack and heaved it on to his shoulder. It held both of their laptops and a booster for the WiFi, just in case. But he still felt the wind at his back. “The meltemi winds are the reason the windmills were so genius and successful throughout history.”

  “The Venetians were smart to harness that energy. Made life easier,” Justin said, leaning over the railing and peering into the water. “And today, damn if the meltemi doesn’t make the heat on the beaches enjoyable, gusty or not. The sun sizzles on your skin. The breeze cools you down.”

  History and meteorology aside, Paul knew he was coming home. He also knew there was no way he’d let his uncle sell the resort. “I spent many summer afternoons on those winding paths,” Paul said. “Good memories.”

  “Paradise for sure.” Granted, Justin hadn’t enjoyed the place to the degree that Paul had, but they’d spent hot and sultry afternoons on the beach—Paradise, Super Pa
radise, and “their” beach. The nights were even better. Justin rubbed his tight butt against Paul’s groin in an obvious attempt to get his mind off the sad possibility of the sale. “You going to promise me at least one night of hedonistic pleasure before we lose ourselves in work?”

  “Promise,” Paul replied. “Tonight is all ours. No resort talk. Just you, me, and the beach bar of your choosing.” He tightened his hold around Justin’s finely sculpted abdomen and held him against his chest, pressing his mouth to Justin’s neck. He inhaled the familiar scent and closed his eyes.

  “Justin, I’m sorry that things didn’t go as smooth as they could have with Bethany. Are you okay?”

  “She’ll come around,” he said. “I know she will.”

  What was Justin expecting from the woman? She’d jumped at his touch and shrank from his attention. She’d even looked to him, a stranger, for understanding. And Paul hated to admit it, because he felt like he’d betrayed Justin, but she’d found it. He felt the tension. He even felt the attraction. Trying to establish a new type relationship would be awkward.

  “Are you okay?” Paul repeated.

  “I really am. I’m not worried about Bethany, if that’s what you’re thinking. It’ll work out,” Justin said. “I just wish we were here on vacation and not to help facilitate the sale of the resort. It’s not going to be fun. You’re not going to be in a good mood. And there will be stress galore with your uncle if you push it.”

  “I’d never push anything on him he doesn’t want. But I will try to help him remember why he chose to make a life here in the first place. And we’ll come back.” Paul said. “Maybe later in the summer. He won’t sell. So we’ll be back for more fun, and next time, under better circumstances.”

  “I didn’t hear that.” Justin turned and curled firm fingers over Paul’s shoulders. “You’re going to make yourself sick trying to make it happen when we both know that it’s going to be difficult. Plus, the timing is bad. We have too much going on in New York, and we can’t stay past the next release of City Wings. This summer is too close for a return trip.”

  “I didn’t really have a say in the timing. I had to come for Theo Kosta. He’s always been there for me, and it’s my turn to be there for him.”

  “I know. I get it,” Justin said. “And it’s not about the short timing. I’m concerned we left things up in the air. We have a business to run and a magazine to get out.”

  A life to live.

  In spite of Justin’s attempt to minimize his objection, Paul heard the unspoken words and wanted to argue for a life, a summer life, on the island. But they’d had that discussion before they’d left home. Justin, even more so than Paul, didn’t want to change their life. He liked the carefree existence that allowed them to grow professionally and enjoy personal time. In truth, they had it good.

  “The July issue is ready to go, and August’s is under control. Plus, we have a competent staff,” Paul insisted, thankful Justin was back to business mode.

  From the looks of what was going on, he was going to have a bad case of emotional whiplash over the next few days.

  “We can do all of our daily tasks electronically, and we can oversee production from anywhere in the world. I’ve already checked to make sure the internet connection at the hotel is up to par. It’ll be okay.”

  Encouraged by Justin resting his linked hands in the small of Paul’s back, Paul rubbed his thumb over the dark stubble shadowing the handsome face he loved.

  They needed a break, and they needed each other.

  The rapid growth of the millennial-based travel publication had consumed too much of their time, placing their international travel plans on the back burner. It had taken his uncle’s call for help for Paul to book the flights. The hotel needed to be properly presented to the Luxury Homes Away From Home executive—regardless if Paul didn’t want the sale, Theo Kosta was more than considering it. And if Paul couldn’t convince his uncle to hold on to the property, he’d damn well do his best to protect his uncle’s interests.

  Since losing his wife, Kosta Lallas carried the weight of the world on his shoulders. Paul would see if new procedures were needed for the operation of the resort. Then maybe his uncle would not feel it necessary to sell. The resort, Vaso’s Dream, would still be his…theirs.

  “Don’t think so hard. It’ll be okay.” Justin consoled Paul.

  Whiplash.

  “I’m over the bad timing. I’ll get Bethany to come around. All will go well. We’re here, and it’s sinfully gorgeous, so let’s get to your uncle, settle our asses in the room, and deal with the rest as it comes.”

  “That’s why I love you, Justin. You see the light in every situation. You’re so fucking good for me. You being here means everything to me.” He made a silent promise to schedule their return for a real vacation as soon as possible. “I’ll make it good.”

  “I know you will. And no matter what you’re thinking, I do want to be here,” Justin said, giving him a handsome grin.

  “Because of Bethany?” Shit. That sounded catty.

  “No. And yes. I’m happy she’s here.” Justin kept grinning, clearly having grown comfortable with the situation. “Trust me when I say you’ll like her. And no, because you’re kind of stuck with me…always. I go where you go. I’ll take advantage of your determination to win your uncle over and set up the office while you try to convince him. When the sun goes down tonight, I’ll hold you to the promise of a hedonistic night. Actually, we could spend the majority of our time here in the same pattern. Work in the daytime. Party at night.”

  “I’ll do my best.” Paul immediately regretted saying that, because it bordered on one of those lies they never told each other. He feared doing his best wouldn’t be enough. They’d be too exhausted to party much. He met Justin’s gaze and once again silently vowed to make the most of their situation. “Any special requests?”

  Justin’s fingers held tight and he leaned into Paul, sealing their lips in a long passionate kiss with a different kind of promise. Paul immediately reacted, grinding himself against Justin and deepening the kiss.

  “Thank you,” Paul said, sucking Justin’s tongue into his mouth and swirling his own over it. “I’m going to thank you properly the moment we get to our place.”

  “Holding you to that,” Justin said, bringing his mouth to his ear. “By the way, I like your appreciation best when you’re on your knees.”

  “Fuck me.” Paul groaned, adjusting his jeans as his erection swelled.

  “That’ll work, too,” Justin said, surprising Paul. “I live to please.”

  Damn. Sweat beaded on Paul’s brow and his heart hammered in his chest. “Babe, anything you want.”

  While their sex life had always been good—phenomenal actually—Justin rarely made the first move or took control. When he did, he commanded complete surrender. It was one of the few times Paul was able to lose himself. He relished the times he bottomed.

  “Remember you said that, Paul.”

  “Anything,” he repeated.

  “Good.” Justin inclined his head toward the staircase, which led into the ship’s belly. “You get the car. I’ll check the cabin for anything left behind. Meet on the pier.”

  Chapter Four

  “This is absolutely nuts.” Justin glanced over his shoulder at the motorcycle that swerved past the produce truck at a ridiculous speed. “They’re driving like maniacs.”

  “Yes they are.” Paul downshifted into second and beeped the horn before taking a hairpin turn, immune to the vehicles barreling down the opposite side that didn’t seem to take into consideration they were sharing the road. “Relax. You’re going to pull the handle off the door. They know this road like the back of their hands. Know every pothole, every twist and turn. They drive it all the time.”

  “I know. I can’t get used to it, though.” Justin looked down the angry-looking serpentine road, then glanced back at the serene and hypnotic blue of the w
ater. “I give you mega credit for keeping your cool. I can’t drive here.”

  “You can’t drive back home, either. You can’t drive period. But you don’t have to worry,” Paul said. “That’s why you have me.”

  Another NASCAR-worthy turn, and Justin welcomed the comfort of Paul’s hand on his knee. He rolled down his window, letting the crisp morning air soothe his nerves, then leaned back in his seat.

  They were back on Mykonos, and no matter the reason, Justin couldn’t deny the excitement of visiting the beautiful island and having the chance to reconnect with Bethany. And he would, just as soon as he found her.

  “Office concerns and work for the hotel aside, I’m really glad we’re here.”

  * * *

  Twenty minutes later, they walked into the small office Kosta used just off the resort’s main dining terrace. The man, a total workaholic, had devoted himself to building a magnificent hideaway for all types of travelers. Unfortunately, he’d lost his zeal for the beautiful place when he lost his wife to a quick battle with breast cancer.

  “Theo? Where are you?” Paul called.

  Kosta was stretched out on a sofa, watching the early afternoon news.

  “Kalispera, good afternoon,” a slightly grayer-haired version of Paul’s uncle replied, bracing beefy hands on his knees to rise from his place. “I wasn’t expecting you so soon.”

  “We managed to catch the early ferry,” Paul explained, closing the space between them and embracing his uncle. “Happy we made it before lunch.”

  “So am I,” Justin added, accepting the tight hugs and pats on the back like the converted Greek he was.

  During his first trip to Greece, he’d learned that Greek families were more touchy feely than his own. He’d also learned to accept and welcome the hugs and kisses from everyone. There was no question or discomfort over the loving attention bestowed on them by the loud and boisterous uncle.