One Week in Greece

by Demi Alex

  “I’m sorry, Bethy,” he said as he steadied her and stepped back. Her lips were full and swollen, but she wasn’t scratched by any of the hanging branches. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that to you.”

  “I liked it,” she said, staring up at him with a bewildered look.

  “So did I,” Paul said, walking up behind her, stroking a hand down her arm, and pulling her back against his chest.

  “It’s not happening,” Justin said, realizing Paul held her safe and stepping farther away. “It can’t.”

  He’d gotten caught up in the emotions of the past. His body had remembered. It had been a mistake. A temporary lapse in judgment.

  He saw her swallow, saw the way her chest quivered, and wanted to reach for her and pull her back into his embrace. But he didn’t. Thankfully, Paul dropped his forearm across her chest and kissed the side of her head. She leaned into him.

  “It’s okay, baby. It’s him, not you,” Paul whispered against her hair.

  She still didn’t speak, but Justin saw the hurt in her eyes and knew he’d put it there. He’d lost control, given in to a desire he shouldn’t have, but fuck him, if it didn’t burn deep inside him. He wanted her, and all he needed was to know he could have her for good. This one kiss or temporary shit didn’t work for him.

  “Fix it,” Paul demanded, annoyance flashing in his eyes, but his hand caressed her upper arm and he kissed from her hair, to her temple, and back to the top of her head. He held her tight, her back still to his chest, and cradled her close beneath his chin.

  Justin acknowledged how good they looked together, and not only was she good for Paul, Paul was good for her, if only he’d hold her forever. She wasn’t temporary.

  All Justin needed was for Paul to give him a sign that their temporary-only understanding didn’t apply to her. But Paul didn’t. He stared at him, waiting for him to make it right with her.

  Justin inhaled and ran his palm down his face. He returned to her and rested a hand on the side of her waist. Then he brushed his lips over her cheek and placed what he hoped passed as a platonic kiss on her soft skin, breathing in her scent, and recommitting it to memory.

  “Bethy, my body goes into overdrive around you.”

  “I like the way this sounds,” Paul said, extending his free arm and cupping Justin’s shoulder.

  “But it can’t happen. No more hurt,” he said in a low voice. He wouldn’t ever hurt her again. “Forget that kiss. It wasn’t appropriate.”

  “Appropriate?” She finally spoke, but her confusion was laced with anger. “You’re mad, Justin Bentley. Nauseatingly mad. And if you kiss me like that ever again, get my panties hot and bothered, then drop me like it doesn’t count, I’m going to twist your balls into a tight and tiny knot, and you’re going to scream like a little girl.”

  Shocked by her announcement, Justin dropped his hand and pulled back.

  “Fair enough,” Paul said, laughing and pushing on Justin’s shoulder. “But don’t feel obligated to wear panties for our benefit. Now let’s blow this joint.”

  Paul turned her around, stood between them, and draped an arm over each of their shoulders. He started walking.

  “The car is the other way,” Justin said.

  “Yeah, but the best view of the windmills is this way,” Paul said, urging them on. “Our first date together is ending on a sweet note. I’m taking you for ice cream.”

  “It’s not a date,” Bethany said, echoing Justin’s thoughts.

  “You two BFFs keep telling yourselves that,” Paul said. “I say it’s a date.”

  Bethany sighed and settled her arm around Paul’s waist. “I warned you to stop being nice to me. But I will gladly take the ice cream. Truthfully, I’d do almost anything for some ice cream after dinner and that failed kiss.”

  “I hoped you’d say that,” Paul teased, and Justin couldn’t believe how they’d both let go of the drama and were chatting like old friends. “Prayed for it.”

  “But Paul,” she continued, “no matter how good that ice cream is, I’m still going after Vaso’s Dream. Even if you don’t like it, I’m going to make this deal happen. It’s a very fair price and it’s what your uncle wants. So you getting me ice cream is not going to change my mind on acquiring the resort.”

  “I know, baby. I heard you.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Careful not to wake Paul, Justin turned on his side and looked out the window precisely as the morning light filtered through the sky.

  Paul followed and wrapped his arm around Justin, throwing a leg over his and breathing softly against his neck.

  Justin hugged the muscled arm to his chest and counted his blessings for Paul. He then closed his eyes and counted his blessings for Bethy. He sighed in guilty regret, because he was lying to both of them. He wanted more.

  He wanted Bethany in his arms and Paul at his back. Or Bethany in Paul’s arms and himself at Paul’s back. Or Paul in Bethany’s arms and himself at her back. Fuck. He didn’t care on the order. He wanted them both in his bed. He didn’t want a BFF in Bethany. He wanted a forever lover.

  “What’s wrong, babe?” Paul asked in a morning rasp.

  “It wasn’t a date,” he said. “It wasn’t.”

  Paul didn’t reply. Instead he kissed up Justin’s neck until he reached the sensitive spot below his ear. “Justin, do you know why I asked her about the breakup?”

  “Why?” The mention of the breakup countered the effect of the kisses. His morning hard-on relaxed.

  “Because the sexual tension was off the charts,” Paul said, sliding his hand down Justin’s chest and to his abdomen. “If she would have answered any other way, and her answer hadn’t revealed how hurt she was as well, things would be different right now. If she didn’t truly love you, I would have pushed for a fling. She’d have accepted. And she’d be here with us. You’d fill her mouth, as I’d feast on every inch of her lovely body.”

  Justin closed his eyes, playing the scenario in his mind, and, hello, morning wood was totally back.

  “Fine. We’re all physically compatible. But we can’t.”

  “I know, babe. You were right. She’s the real deal,” Paul said. “We need to keep her heart safe, so we can’t have her body. I understand. But that doesn’t mean I can’t fantasize about my new friend.”

  Justin did enough fantasizing, so it was only expected for Paul to do the same.

  “I will make her scream my name as I sink into her, watch her ride you to heaven as I jack off, take those pretty tits into my mouth and suck until she comes, but only in my dreams,” Paul said, playing his fingers through the fine line of hair below Justin’s belly button. “I won’t touch her. You won’t touch her. We will not hurt her. She’s too good.”

  “You do get it,” Justin said, turning to hug him and pressing against his hard warmth. “But are you okay with having her in our life?”

  “Of course I am. She’s a dream.”

  “Then can I ask you one last thing?” Justin settled a thigh between Paul’s and stroked his chest.

  “As long as I get the same opportunity to ask you a question.”

  “That’s fair,” Justin said. He looked at the big, muscled man, seeing more than his powerful body. He saw his kind and caring heart. “Are you really going to make her fight you for the resort?”

  “I am.”

  “Why?”

  “I don’t want her father to get his hands on this place. Not only would he destroy everything we stand for, but he doesn’t deserve such beauty in his life. Look what he did to you and Bethany.” Paul kissed him, taking his time and chasing away the remnants of negative thoughts. “I’m not letting him hurt either one of you again.”

  “It’s Bethany who wants the resort, not her father. She told me.” And he knew why, but he had said he wouldn’t get involved. Wouldn’t take sides.

  “If you feel stuck in the middle and don’t want to prepare the financial
presentations, you don’t have to,” Paul said, offering to let him off the hook and make things easier for him. “I can do it.”

  “Nope,” Justin said. “All I have to do is present numbers. I already said I’m not taking sides. I won’t discuss what you want with her or what she wants with you. She mentioned that the acquisition of the resort was her idea to Kosta and made it public knowledge, so I don’t think it’s wrong to discuss it with you. She wouldn’t hide that from you.”

  With his arms tight around Justin’s back, he tapped a hand on the curve of his ass. “My turn. You ready?”

  “Shoot.”

  “If you’re so okay with this new BFF thing, and you don’t love her—”

  “I didn’t say I don’t love her,” Justin interrupted. “Of course I love her. I may not be in love with her that way, but I love her. She’ll always have a special place in my heart.”

  “At least you’re admitting that much, but you’re still in denial,” Paul said.

  “I’m not in denial.”

  “You don’t kiss a friend the way you kissed her. You still want her.”

  Justin didn’t reply. That was a normal physical reaction. He’d wanted to connect with her, to soothe away past pain, and fine, he was justifying his desire with bullshit.

  “How are you going to feel when she walks into a room on some other man’s arm? Or it’s not your tongue down her throat making her moan so sweetly?”

  Fuck! Paul knew him completely. “Not fair. This is still all so new.”

  “The woman has needs. She’s not going to wait until you’re ready to meet them or be okay with her getting them met elsewhere.” He cupped Justin’s ass and tilted his hips to grind his groin against him. “You got laid yesterday, but she didn’t.”

  “Are you saying that I flaunted our sexual satisfaction in her face?”

  “No. I’m saying you got laid yesterday afternoon, and you were ready to go again when we got home.” He slid a finger through his ass cheeks and pressed it against his sore opening.

  Justin trembled at his touch.

  “I gave you what you needed. Took what I needed. You rode that wave of pleasure for a long time last night. And when you couldn’t hold it, you came in my hand. The only way she came last night was with her own hand. How long do you think that’s going to last?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “How are you going to feel when someone, not you or me, makes our beautiful and sexy friend come?”

  * * *

  Bethany quietly opened the shutters and marveled at nature’s beauty spread before her. Across the crystal clear blue water, varying hues of pink, yellow, and blue haloed the island of Delos in the light. She inhaled the fresh scent of the island, mixed with the sweet perfume of the flowers, and she physically ached to sit at the little table outside her window and enjoy the morning sun’s dance on the sea.

  Peeking to the left, she noticed Justin and Paul’s shutters latched, not closed, which meant they’d probably slept real well, snuggled together in their big bed, with the windows open and the sound of the sea serenading them. A pang of something—what she wasn’t sure—hit her, and she blew out a long breath.

  She’d slept with the windows closed and the air conditioner on, and she hadn’t slept well. The night had proven long and difficult.

  She kept telling herself they were friends, but the way they looked at her, spoke with her, and touched her didn’t feel purely friendly. Oh, and of course there was that way Justin had kissed her. How was it put in romance novels? He’d plundered her mouth and made her dizzy with need.

  Jerk.

  It wasn’t that he didn’t care, but he cared too much. He thought she’d be hurt if they didn’t take her into their loving little family. And maybe he had a point, because she was falling for them both, but she wasn’t stupid. She knew the world didn’t work like that. There was no real room for her in their relationship.

  Their hearts were full, so she couldn’t ask for that romance novel kind of love. She could dream about that stuff you read about in other kind of novels, the one you read in private, with no cover showing. Earth shattering, body rattling, kind of fun. Like Paul had said, they had something, they all wanted it, and it wasn’t going away.

  But instead of trusting her to know what she was getting into, Justin had decided for her. In a moment full of emotion and passion, he’d gotten her hopes up and then had changed his mind.

  Jerk.

  Still. She was screwed. She couldn’t turn her back on them because she did care, more than she wanted to, but she could focus on her original goal rather than think about getting naked with two gorgeous, handsome, panty-melting men.

  She’d come to Mykonos to assess the resort as a business venture and to familiarize herself with the lifestyle of the island. And she knew a few things about denying life desires by burying her head in work.

  No more dreamgasms.

  No more being stuck in the middle.

  She had work to do.

  “Get going, girl. Go and make your dream a reality.” Long summers. Simple pleasures. All in the lap of luxury of the Cyclades. “Go make Mykonos your summer home.”

  Bethany grabbed her tote off the window seat, gently opened the door and stepped into the crisp air, inhaling deeply as she pulled the door closed behind her. Avoiding the temptation of looking in on them, she circled to the right and walked to the covered terrace where breakfast was being served.

  Impossible to settle on only one item off the buffet, she requested a serving of kopanisti, the mouthwatering cheese thing from the night before, a toasted slice of country bread, and some plump olives.

  “Rather traditional,” a male voice sounded behind her. “You should add a sweet Greek coffee to the selection.”

  She turned and looked up at a grinning Christo, bright and cheery before seven in the morning.

  “Should I order it for you?”

  “Thank you. Yes.” She laughed, thinking how wrong Paul had been about the timing where Christo was concerned. “Join me for breakfast?”

  “Of course.” He ordered two doubles and took the plate from her hands. He stopped in front of the fruit station, spoke with the attendant, then moved to the omelet station and did the same, handing a server her plate. “They’ll bring everything to the VIP table. Let’s go.”

  “VIP table?”

  Clearly, Paul was wrong. Christo was not a morning grump. He smiled, and the smile reached his eyes, and chuckled. “Maybe I’ve christened it the VIP table because it’s my favorite spot on the beach to enjoy Apollo’s work. He did a good job of harnessing that chariot and positioning the sun in the sky. Agree?”

  “Agree,” she said, recalling the mythology lesson on the handsome Greek god. “It was like seeing a painting when I looked out my window.”

  “Tell me about it. Many beautiful things here.” He winked and swept out his arm, shaking a finger. “Don’t tell anyone about our secret location. Noise would spoil it.”

  “In that case, I’m honored to share your table.” She fell in step beside him as he walked across the terrace.

  He stopped to greet guests and ask about their stay. The guests knew him by name, and they repeatedly invited them to join them. With four of the six tables he’d introduced her to, he’d added how lucky he was going to be to have the smartest and most beautiful boss lady in all of Mykonos. He put a smile on everyone’s face, including Bethany’s.

  “You know everybody staying at the resort,” she said as they reached a staircase, which looked like nature had carved into the rocky cliff side. It led to the beach. He unlatched the gate across its landing and removed the red sign.

  “Not everybody, but these are our early risers.” Taking two steps down, he turned and offered her his hand. “Please. The path is a bit steep.”

  “The sign said to keep out. Danger.”

  He laughed, and shook his hand at her. “Come on, koukla. There’s no
danger. I wouldn’t put you in danger.”

  So much like Paul, her breakfast accomplice had attitude. Polite, but cavalier, Christo’s confidence and demeanor made her feel safe. She took his hand and stepped on to the path. He motioned for her to continue to where he stood, and then latched the gate behind them and replaced the sign at its original place.

  “Hold my hand. The railing isn’t the best,” he said, moving ahead of her. “Step where I step and don’t look down.”

  “You’re kidding, right?”

  “Maybe a little,” he said, chuckling as he descended. “But you can’t blame a man for some heroic drama. You’ll agree the end result is worth it.”

  She held on to his hand, looked from the span of his broad shoulders, down his muscular back, perfectly toned ass, and to his feet, and stepped as he’d instructed. She counted thirty-three steps before he stopped, turned back, and flashed another smile.

  A slightly older version of Paul, at most ten years, it was easy to see how he’d gained his lothario status. With his good looks and killer accent, women would willingly throw themselves at him for a night of physical pleasure. Because, holy smokes, the man had a body that was made for pleasure, and his dark gaze promised he delivered.

  “Are you okay?” Christo asked, tapping his fingers on her hip.

  “Yeah,” she whispered. “I’m just taking in the view.” She let her gaze travel over the sandy beach to the little alcove nestled in the curve of the cliff. On the sand, only a few feet from the water, there was a solitary table with one chair pulled up to it. Three more chairs were stacked behind it. “Is that the VIP seating?”

  “It is,” he said, tapping his hand on her waist. The man did a lot of finger waggling and tapping. “Lean on me and raise your foot. You should take off your shoes before walking on the beach, otherwise they’ll ruin.”

  Damn, these Greek men were panty-melting charismatic, built sexy-as-hell, and rather touchy-feely—in a nice, real nice, way. How was a woman supposed to keep a clear mind in the presence of testosterone overload?