He was captivating and filled with conviction and Eleanor was caught between a rock and a hard place! She loved him, she lusted for him, and she knew that she’d wronged him and hurt him. She couldn’t even blame him for viewing her as he did.
She’d spent the last five years being sensible. She’d got a job to care for her sister and Joshua and she’d taken on any and all assignments she could. Freelance journalism allowed her to be home as much as possible, to help Elizabeth with the demands of a very exhausting, very energetic three year old.
Eleanor was no martyr, but even she could see that she’d backed herself into a sensible corner, she’d sacrificed the life she’d wanted, the career she’d wanted, and now? The man she wanted. And why? Because he said they’d never be more than this?
A sexy seduction on a stunning Greek island in the middle of a pristine, private ocean? So what if that was true? So what if this, right now, was all she’d ever share with Apollo? Wasn’t that better than nothing?
Wasn’t it worth it for Eleanor to take what he could give her, so at least she’d have some memories to cherish?
And what if he was wrong? What if they slept together and something shifted between them? What if intimacy replaced estrangement and they found their way back to the happiness they’d once enjoyed?
With a muttered, uncharacteristic curse, Eleanor spun on her heel and, before she could yet again flip-flop on her intentions, she moved quickly back down the hill, almost running by the time she reached Apollo. He’d turned back to his task, and was sawing another low-hanging branch.
He didn’t hear her approach and, pushing all doubts aside, she put a hand on his shoulder, feeling the heat of his skin, letting it warm her right up.
“God, Apollo,” she whispered, knowing he heard it, because he’d stopped sawing and was standing as still as a monument of marble, his head tilted on an angle, his breathing irregular. “I thought I was over you.”
He threw the saw to the ground, some few feet in the distance, and turned to her warily.
“Did you?”
“I thought three years was enough time, but…”
“The fever,” he said with a nod, reaching for her hand and lacing his own through it.
“I don’t know…” The words trailed off into nothing but he nodded, understanding.
“Nor do I. But I can’t not want you, agape.”
She didn’t know if he moved or she did, but their bodies cleaved together and she tore out a bitter, confused, “It’s the same for me,” before his lips sought hers, hard, confident, desperate.
She was lost in his embrace, her eyes sweeping shut as he tilted her head back, deepening the kiss, plundering her mouth with his tongue, his hands curving around her hips and holding her to his body.
“I should take a shower,” he muttered into her mouth before dragging his stubbled jaw lower, finding the sensitive flesh of her throat and kissing her there, nipping her with his teeth.
“Don’t,” she groaned, allowing her hands to complete their own inspection. Tentatively at first and then with the passion he inspired in her soul, she dragged her nails down his back, finding the waistband of his pants and slipping her fingertips inside, to curve around the warmth of his arse. “You’re so hot and salty,” she said on a fragile laugh as she kissed his shoulder, tasting him and wanting him.
Thinking was impossible; she could only feel.
He understood. His kiss intensified and with the pressure on her mouth, he guided her gently to the ground, laying her backwards on the grass that formed an aisle between the rows of trees. The fragrance was divine – freshly cut branches emitting a sweet citrus aroma that was as intoxicating as the man bracing himself over her.
“You are a witch,” he muttered, dragging his hands down her body, finding the hem of her long dress and slowly pushing it up her smooth, soft legs, his palms running over every inch of her until he reached her thighs. She quivered at the unfamiliar touch, at the newness of this, but said nothing. She propped up on her elbows, watching as, with utter reverence, Apollo slid the beautiful silk underwear down her legs, his fingertips light on her flesh, leaving goosebumps in their wake.
“A beautiful witch,” he amended, and now it was his lips that traced their way along her limbs, pausing to worship the hollow behind her knees, then softly, gently, torturously slowly, moving up and up, until at the apex of her thighs, he placed a single kiss against her quivering womanhood, sending shards of awareness throbbing through her body.
“Apollo,” she cried out, the intimacy of the contact almost more than she could bear. He lifted his head and grinned at her, then pushed the dress higher, his mouth continuing to taste her flesh – her flat stomach, the soft skin beneath her breasts, then the underside of first one breast and then another, before homing in on her dusky nipples, running his tongue over them until she was whimpering beneath him, begging him for an answer she couldn’t even suggest a question to.
She knew only that the incantation of his name and the word please were tripping from her tongue over and over again, so fast and so loud, burning with all the need and heat she felt for him.
“We should have done this three years ago,” he said darkly, with an intensity that coiled inside of her and threatened to break something vital.
“Yes,” she agreed huskily, pushing at his jeans, impatient to feel him now, though she hardly knew what she was asking for. Ancient, primal rhythms drove her and she answered fearlessly. In that moment, with her back on the grass, the sun on her face and Apollo above her, she feared nothing. She was powerful, she was empowered.
He undid his jeans just enough to free his erection and though she couldn’t see him from where she was lying, she felt the way he nudged between her legs, teasing the flesh at the opening to her most feminine core and promising her everything she had ever wanted.
Almost.
She pushed that thought aside. Her heart wasn’t involved in this decision. It was lust and libido, all rolled into mad acceptance.
She lifted her legs, digging her heels into the ground and tilting her head back, almost wild with her needs.
“I know,” he laughed, kissing her, and then a hand pressed to her thigh, and he was pushing her legs wider apart, and tasting her mouth as his arousal poised to take her.
It was the time to tell him, to warn him of her innocence, but Eleanor was so lost to the moment that she barely recognized that for herself. Desire flooded her system, and she needed to answer it.
He swore into her mouth and then pushed up on his elbows, his eyes boring into hers. “I’ve never wanted anything as much as I want this.”
She nodded desperately. “Me too.” There was no intrusion of reality. She didn’t need it. She accepted that this – he – was her destiny.
He didn’t thrust into her gently, nor slowly. He drove his arousal hard, claiming her like he’d been imagining doing so for three decades, not just three years. He took her virginity without having any idea that she’d possessed it, and then he froze.
“Jesus Christ, Eleanor!” The curse was uttered through tightly pressed lips, his eyes sparking with hers not with passion now so much as shock. Blame. Denial. “What the hell?”
And the passion she’d felt dimmed, just enough to know he was angry, but at the same time, the pain she’d felt was disappearing as well, so that pleasure was sparking inside of her, surging forward once more, demanding fulfilment.
“Don’t stop,” she begged through gritted teeth, lifting her hips to welcome him deeper and moaning at his possession.
“You’ve got to be kidding me.” He dropped his head forward to her shoulder, his breathing ragged, his expression grim. “I have to stop.” But he stayed where he was, buried deep inside of her, his head in the crook of her neck, his breath mingling with hers.
He swore softly then, and pulled away from her, rolling onto his back and staring up at the same sky that minutes ago had seemed to be burning up in response to their exploding passi
on.
“You’re – you were – a virgin?” The words were spat from his lips with a darkness she couldn’t understand. But it hurt nonetheless, cutting her pride to ribbons. She turned to face him. It was a mistake. His arousal was very, very visible. With a groan of mortification, she stood up, immensely grateful then that he hadn’t removed her dress, grateful that he’d only pushed it up her body, so that when she got to her feet, the dress fell to the grass, providing her with some dignity.
“So?” She asked fiercely, but she was shaking all over, trembling in a way that was as inexplicable as it was unstoppable.
“How the hell were you a virgin?” He got to his own feet, turning his back to her for a second so he could zip his pants up. When he spun around to face her, his arousal was still very evident.
She groaned, spinning away from him, lifting her fingers to her temples and massaging them in an attempt to lock her brain into gear.
“I just didn’t sleep with anyone. It’s not rocket science.”
“Come on, Eleanor. You’re --,” His sentence trailed off into nothingness.
“What? Do virgins have a certain look? A demure quality you think I’m lacking? Do you think virgins are all sitting in towers waiting for the day some prince comes along and proposes to them? God. This isn’t a big deal.”
“I was going to say,” he interjected softly. “That you’re in your twenties. You must have had opportunities…”
“I…” she shook her head. “No. Yes. I’ve been busy with Joshua and apart from you, no one’s ever made me want … to…”
“Who the damned hell is Joshua?” He snapped, his hands on his hips, his eyes boring into hers.
He was jealous, and of her three year old nephew! With a shake of her head, and a ridiculous laugh curdling low in her throat, she thought for a moment about lying to him, about pretending there’d been some other man who’d kept her very busy but refused to touch her, but it was a childish instinct, not worthy of her, nor what Apollo meant to her.
“My nephew,” she answered. “Elizabeth’s son.”
“Your nephew.”
“Yes.”
“Why are you busy with your nephew?”
Eleanor huffed out a breath and wrapped her arms around her slender mid-section, looking mournfully towards the house. If only she’d ignored this stupid impulse and gone back inside! A perfectly good book was languishing on the foot of her bed, if only she’d been wise enough to seek it out instead of Apollo!
“Because Elizabeth moved in with me when she found out she was pregnant. And she had a terrible pregnancy and a difficult labour and Joshua is non-stop and she’s all alone so I help her. I have always helped her, okay? Which hasn’t really left much time for looking for romance or love, and my experience with men – namely you – has left me a little too burned up to even think about repeating the experience.”
His eyes narrowed, frustration throbbing between them.
Did she expect an award? A word of encouragement or a smile to show he was impressed by her self-sacrificing?
She got none.
“You should have told me. No man wants that kind of surprise, for God’s sake.” And then he switched to Greek, swearing loudly, his eyes showing his fury.
“I’m sorry it’s such a disappointment to you, but you never asked!”
“Asked? If you’re a virgin?”
“Yes.” She snapped, taking a step back and catching her arm on the edge of a citrus tree. She muttered a response under her breath and turned away from him. To her added misery, tears seemed to be accumulating in her throat and she knew it wouldn’t take them long to find their way to her eyes and threaten to drop down her cheeks.
“Why would that ever have occurred to me?”
“Well, we never slept together…”
“Because of me!” he said, tapping his fingers to his chest and shaking his head in disbelief. “I seem to recall you wanted to.”
“Yeah? So? We didn’t.”
“I know that.” He dropped his head forward, and his chest moved hard and fast, with the force of each ragged breath.
Eleanor was still shaking, her insides tense and her face pale and drawn. She had to get away from him, to get back to the house. “It’s not a big deal,” she groaned, bending down and grabbing her underwear at the same time he did. Their fingers grazed and she jerked back, straightening and spinning away from him.
“It’s a big damned deal, actually.”
“Why?” She groaned. “Why can’t it just be two people sleeping together? That’s what you wanted, isn’t it?”
“I wanted meaningless sex with a woman I’ll never see again, after this week is up. I wanted simple, uncomplicated, meaningless…”
“Don’t say meaningless again,” she demanded hotly. “I get it. You don’t need to keep banging me over the head with how little this all means to you.” How little I mean to you, she amended inwardly. “Let’s just forget this happened, okay? It was a stupid, stupid idea.”
“I can’t forget it. I don’t want to forget it.” He reached for her wrist, pulling at her, turning her around to face him. But she tore herself free of his grip and pushed at his chest for good measure.
“Your virginity should mean something – and it can’t to me. I told you before, this can never be more than just sex for us. I thought you were experienced or I would never have propositioned you like that. God, I wanted a mistress not…”
He was making it so much worse, and the only way to keep her heart safe was to rein in her aching, pulsing hurt. To look at him with such ice in her expression that he didn’t see the pain that was eating her alive.
“You didn’t know I was a virgin, but I did. I chose to do that, Apollo, so don’t go flattering yourself that I want anything more from you than you wanted from me. I was a virgin. Now I’m not. And that meant nothing, just like you wanted.”
She stalked away from him then, knowing she needed to put some distance between them and what had happened before she burst into tears. They were cloying at her throat, and she was going to give into them, just as soon as she was back in her room; in privacy, alone.
Alone with this pain and this ache and this sense of rejection.
She hadn’t expected him to follow, but when he caught her on the terrace, she was more resigned than surprised. Apollo Heranedes was not a man to be walked out on.
“I wasn’t your first boyfriend,” he said throatily, walking beside her without touching her, but his expression had changed. He was thoughtful now, watchful, too. Remorseful?
She didn’t care.
“No. I’d seen a couple of men. Not for long and never anyone I wanted to get to know beyond a few perfunctory dates.”
“Why not?”
Her lips twisted. “You’re trying to solve this riddle so you feel better.”
“Yes,” he agreed swiftly. “But I also just want – need – to understand.”
“I told you – Elizabeth had Joshua…”
He absorbed this for a moment. “How come you never told me about him?”
Eleanor’s cheeks glowed pink. “She hadn’t even told the father. Our parents, when they found out she was pregnant, kicked her out, and she was so terrified if they knew that the dad was just a one-night stand, she thought it better just to hush the whole thing up.”
“A baby?” He lifted an eyebrow, his voice mocking. “And how exactly did she plan on keeping it secret?”
“It’s not funny,” she intoned flatly.
He sobered, nodding. “I’m sorry. But how did she..?”
“I don’t know. I just know she loved her baby, fiercely, from the moment she learned about him. My parents wanted her to give ‘the child’ up for an adoption, and I think Ellie considered it for a few seconds. Not because she wanted to but because she was worried about how she’d cope as a single parent. She was studying law and doing so well, one of the top in her year level. Anyway, the pregnancy went on, she felt the baby moving and she knew
she couldn’t let him go. When he was born, it cemented it. Josh was ours. We loved him.”
“That’s why you needed money? Why you need money?”
She nodded. “Mum and dad still haven’t spoken to Elizabeth. The father – whoever he might be – isn’t in the picture at all.”
“Did she go back to university?”
“No.”
“And does she work?”
“No. Childcare costs a fortune and Joshie is a hard little guy, at times. Adorable but strong-willed and fiercely determined. Elizabeth is exhausted, just looking after him –,”
“While you do what you can to support her,” he nodded.
“Right.” She pushed the door to the villa open, grateful to be back, so close to her room. “Leaving very little time to chase after meaningless sex. Or even meaningful sex, for that matter,” she tacked on.
“And your sister’s relationship was a cautionary tale to you,” he said gruffly.
“It wasn’t a relationship.”
“You know what I mean. She’s been let down by a guy, and you don’t want that to happen to you.”
“Who does?” She snapped, making light of his observation when he was, in fact, absolutely right.
A muscle jerked in his jaw and now he grabbed her by the wrist once more but pulled her slowly, gently towards him. “This doesn’t change what I want from you.” His eyes probed hers. “But I do want you, Eleanor.”
“You didn’t seem to want me down there…” She hitched her thumb towards the orchard.
“I was surprised. Shocked, actually. And I was angry at you for not telling me. But believe me, it doesn’t change how much I want you to be mine. Properly, this time.”
She looked away from him, her breath held, her eyes seeking anything familiar or comforting to which she could cling – a barometer of normality from him, in the midst of this madness.
The Greek's Virgin Captive: She was wrong for him in every way but one... (Evermore Book 2) Page 8