by Marian Tee
And now that she was—
And it had to be Stavros Manolis—
Oh my God, were those her nipples slowly coming to life for the first time?
She wrenched herself away from his hold. It didn’t matter if she practically sprained her wrist as she did. All that mattered was to be free of him and before he discovered her body’s humiliating response to the muscular hardness of his own.
Their eyes met.
Shiiiiiit.
She saw it on his face. It was too late. He knew.
“If you ever say anything about what you’ve seen here…”
She raised her chin. “You’ll what?” Pride had always been her greatest strength and downfall.
“I’ll make you beg me to fuck you, and the whole world will know about it.”
Stavros was breathing hard in front of her. His nostrils had flared, and a feral glitter blazed from his dark gray eyes.
Shiiiiiiit. His face said it all. He knew what she had been thinking. His gaze dropped to her chest. The one bad thing about wearing a loose gown was that it showed more of her breasts than she was comfortable with.
He stared at her breasts for so long that to her horror, she could feel her nipples slowly coming to life again, as if they were slaves to his gaze.
No! Stop! Down!
But her nipples were pebble hard now, and even her breasts were aching like they had never ached before.
Her eyes jerked back to his, and seeing Stavros slowly smirk at her made Willow so mad her mouth ended up running away from her again.
“Loser.”
Stavros stilled.
Willow whitened.
People around them gasped.
Shiiiiiiiit.
She hadn’t meant for the others to hear!
“Don’t you have any manners?” he demanded under his breath.
The words stung, reminding her of past and repeated instances where the same words had been used to shame her.
It hurt, so much more than she expected it to, when he was no one in her life.
So she said it again.
“LOSER.” Deliberately loudly this time.
People around them began to whisper.
Stavros shook his head in disgust. “I see.” He leaned back against his seat.
She bristled at his tone. “See what?”
“You’re that type,” he drawled.
She bristled even more. “I’m not any kind of type.” There was nothing more she disliked than being forced in a box. So many had done it to her before, and it was always the same damn box that she had ended up making her home in it.
“Yes, you are. You’re the type who likes to defy authority for the sake of it, probably because you want to prove something, but you don’t have the guts to actually make the first move.” Stavros’ eyes bored through hers. “I don’t know what it is with that chip on your shoulder—”
She interrupted sweetly, “Whatever it is, it probably looks like the one on yours.” When a cold mask fell over his face, she knew he was remembering the last time they had met.
“You don’t know anything.” Stavros’ voice was tight.
She knew she was being unfair, knew she should put a stop to everything now and for once take the higher road.
But she couldn’t.
Looking at him, knowing everyone around them was thinking he was so damn perfect and she was so damn flawed, Willow wanted his mask to crack. Wanted the people to realize what she had seen in the courtroom.
“You’ve got a type too, you know,” she said casually. “The type who tells himself he’s in love with a woman, even when he’s not, because the truth is, he just lacks the guts to risk his heart.”
“This conversation is over.” Most people would have shut up at the ominous note in Stavros’ voice, and most people would probably have peed in their pants at the look of icy fury in his eyes.
But…she had never been most people, much to her father’s dismay. Willow had always wished she was, but she just wasn’t.
“I’ve done my research on you, Stavros Manolis.”
His face remained unreadable.
“I had to, since you were one of the major subjects in the latter chapters. And you know what I came to understand?”
He still didn’t speak, but she didn’t mind. She didn’t need him to.
“You’ve taken a lot of risks in business. Once you’ve set your eyes on the prize, you don’t stop until you have it. So I thought to myself, isn’t it a little strange that when it came to the woman you supposedly love, you just…stepped aside, like…” she did quote marks in the air with her fingers. “– a gentleman?” Willow snorted. “I don’t think so. I think in the end, you’re just one big damn coward—” She wasn’t able to say the rest, Stavros catching her unawares as he suddenly leaned forward, forcing her to inch back instinctively.
Willow’s chair almost fell back, and it would have if not for Stavros’ quick reflexes. One yank, and her chair was upright. Another quick soundless yank, the chair’s feet sliding noiselessly against the carpet, and she was right beside him, hip to hip.
Shiiiiiiiit. The way Stavros was gazing at her right now made Willow realize she might have just bitten off more than she could chew.
And when he asked in a silky voice, “Are you done?”
She was even more convinced. He was going to kill her now.
Even so, she somehow found the strength and enough false and silly pride to lift her chin up aggressively. She opened her mouth to answer, but her voice died when Stavros suddenly reached for her face, his knuckles ever so gently running down one pale, unmade-up cheek.
Shiiiiit.
Did he want to see how stupendously easy it was to break her jaw?
“My turn to tell you about yourself.”
Willow almost jumped when Stavros spoke again, and she tried not to stiffen at the way his mouth was so damn close to her ear. She started to move away before she realized there was nowhere to go, his hands gripping each side of her chair, effectively locking her in between.
Her eyes jerked up to meet his. There was a treacherously reckless air about him now, and it wasn’t right, wasn’t to be trusted. The Stavros Manolis the world knew was predictable outside business. But this one right next to her, looking at Willow like he could chew her to pieces and spit them out anytime?
Utterly unpredictable. In a bad way. Really bad.
“G-get your hands off my chair!” But the way her voice shook in the end completely ruined it.
His lips curved in a humorless smile, and they both knew he knew she was starting to be afraid of him. “Not until you hear what I have to say. It’s only fair, don’t you think?” She opened her mouth to speak, but he didn’t let her, drawling, “You see, Mairi’s also talked to me about you.”
Willow shrugged. “So?” She worked hard to maintain a blasé tone, telling herself this was just like one of those times. People always talked about her. Always. And every time they did, it was usually ugly…and real. It was why she loved working behind books so much. As an editor, she had the power to prevent the truth about herself from coming out.
“She told me how she was worried about the way you kept getting into trouble. That you had so much going for you, but every time an opportunity came up, you just had the worst of luck because you end up doing something to miss it.” His lips curved. “But you and I both know it’s not that, is it?”
She wasn’t stupid. She knew now where this was going. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she rejected feverishly.
“But I can see in your eyes that you do. We both know that you don’t end up…” It was his turn to do the quotation marks. “– doing something to mess up. We both know you deliberately mess up because you don’t want to give yourself the chance to actually succeed…or fail.”
When she turned towards him, Willow’s face was pale, eyes a little blurry, and lips tight.
Stavros said softly, “Crybaby.”
Willow whitened even more. “Fuck off.” Her voice shook. Every word he said was true, but he had no right to say it. This time, she didn’t care about not making a scene.
Stavros muttered an expletive when Willow suddenly pushed him away, taking him by surprise. The moment his arms fell back, she got up and practically ran towards the exit.
For a long moment, he hesitated, his jaw clenched tight as he told himself she deserved every word he spoke. She had brought this on herself.
But the words didn’t stop the guilt, didn’t stop his conscience from grating on his nerves. He couldn’t get the image of Willow’s pale face out of his mind.
Fuck.
Willow’s four-inch heels caused her to trip more than a few times, but she forced herself to keep going, not looking back even once.
She had already gone past the ballroom’s doors and almost reached the elevators when she heard Stavros call out her name. “Stop!”
She banged her hand on the elevator buttons repeatedly, frantically. Faster, dammit! Whether it went up or down, she no longer cared. She just needed to get away from the stupid, asshole billionaire—
Willow screamed and started kicking the moment she felt hands gripping her shoulders. It was Stavros of course, and seeing his hard but impassive face made her even more violent.
“Will…you…stop…that…” He grunted in pain when one of her kicks landed on his knee. “Dammit, you’re going to hurt yourself…” But she kept kicking and swinging her fists. “Are you insane?”
“Let me go,” she howled. She knew she was being insane. She knew it. But this was just the last straw. It was just…all fucked up, and it was exactly what he said. She had fucked up. Because she wanted to fuck up.
When the elevator doors opened, Stavros made an impulsive decision, something he was never known for.
In one swift motion, he had hefted her on his shoulder and stepped inside the elevator. “Did you bring a car?”
“Let me go! Let me go! Let me go!”
“Answer me,” he commanded.
For some reason, she couldn’t ignore the authority in his voice, and she answered, albeit in a snarl, “Cab!” She resumed struggling. “Let me go, let me go, let me go.”
Her shrill words grated on his nerves. “If anyone ever told you you’re a shrew, believe it.”
She made her voice shriller. “LET ME GO, LET ME GO, LET ME GO.”
“God, what I’d do to your mouth—”
“Whatever it is, just keep imagining it – but oh, wait! You don’t have an imagination, do you? You’re the stuffy, boring type and aaah—”
She got a little dizzy, suddenly finding herself upright when moments before she had been hanging upside down over his shoulder.
Willow jerked when his hands slammed against the wall, caging her in between his arms. “You know what?” The billionaire’s voice was dangerously soft.
Shiiiiiiit.
“You’re right. I have no imagination.” His lips formed a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “So why don’t I just fucking do what I want to do and show you a better use for your mouth.”
His mouth slammed down on hers.
Willow froze, her eyes flying open in shock. A second later, she recovered, and she screamed, but the sound of it was swallowed by the billionaire’s punishingly deep kiss.
She started beating his chest, trying to get him off her, but it was like pushing against an immovable wall. She gasped when he deepened the kiss even more, his tongue sliding in this time. When she tried to bite his tongue, his head jerked up, and his eyes blazed down at hers in fury. “Try it, and I’ll bite you all over your body.”
His mouth went back to hers.
Tears of frustration stung Willow’s eyes as she forced herself not to bite him and focused instead on getting Stavros off her. But it was no use. He simply kept kissing her, kissing and kissing and kissing her until her head started to spin, her chest started to squeeze—
Her fingers instinctively curled against his chest as she felt something unfurl inside of her. Something…hot, primitive, and hungry.
His tongue made another bold sweep inside her mouth, and this time, her tongue accidentally or not so accidentally brushed against his.
The pleasure that resulted from it was electrifying, making Willow gasp in shock and denial. No. How could this be? Was she actually feeling turned on by the billionaire’s kiss?
Stavros lifted his head. Breathing hard, he rasped out, “You kissed me back.”
She shook her head furiously.
A rough, insulting laugh. “Yes, you did, don’t deny it. And I bet if I touch you down there, you’ll be fucking wet…”
The moment he said the words, she realized it was true.
She was fucking wet.
Another moment, and she was gasping again, his hand going under her old and ill-fitting gown and unerringly finding the triangle between her legs.
His fingers stroked the crotch of her panties. They came away soaking wet.
Stavros looked down at her. “See?”
“Stop it!” She captured his wrist, trying to get it off her body before he could make her feel something else. Oh God, how could she be so wet? How could she want him when he was such a boor?
Behind Stavros, a chiming sound played just before the elevator doors slid open.
Stavros’ hand fell back and, to her shock, he locked his gaze with hers before he lifted his fingers to his mouth and began licking them dry, one by one.
This time, she couldn’t deny it, couldn’t tell herself she wasn’t getting even wetter just by looking at him sucking her wetness from his fingers.
Willow shook her head in confusion, whispering, “Why?” First, it was that time in the courtroom. She had thought it was an aberration but now she knew better. Why was this happening? Why him? Why her?
Instead of answering her, Stavros took her hand and she found herself following like a damn puppet. Even as they walked, she was desperately trying to make sense of her actions. Did that really happen? Willow badly wanted to pinch her cheeks to see if she was dreaming.
She might already be twenty-four, but all this was embarrassingly beyond her. Would he believe her if she told him he was her first kiss? And certainly the first man who ever got as far as third base with her?
The thought almost left her hysterical. Oh my God, third base! When she had never even experienced second! In fact, the only thing close to second base she had ever experienced still had to do with him. Dammit.
Stavros suddenly stopped, and when she saw the silver sports car next to them, she knew it was likely his ride. Alarm bells started to ring. She didn’t want this. She just wanted to go home. “I—”
Stavros cut her off. “I want you, Willow Somerset.” His eyes kept hers captive the whole time, Stavros wanting Willow to understand he was fucking serious.
If anyone had told him that he would have found a way to numb the pain of losing Mairi tonight, he would never have believed it. But now, he knew it was true, and Willow was it. A distraction like no other.
Suddenly, he remembered the time they had been alone in the courtroom. Remembered the way her large breasts had practically hypnotized him, remembered the way his cock had surged to life the moment he saw Willow’s nipples becoming erect.
She had aroused him. He had aroused her.
But even knowing that, Stavros had not made a move.
He hadn’t ever allowed himself to think of that time again…until now. And now that he did, he knew this thing they had was even more powerful than either of them had expected.
It had to be, the way it allowed him to block out all thoughts of Mairi and think only of Willow. And of fucking her.
“Say something,” he growled.
He wanted her. Just the thought of Stavros’ harshly spoken words had her heart hammering anew. Stavros Manolis, one of Greece’s most eligible bachelors – no, one of the world’s most sought after billionaires – wanted her.
Her, Wil
low Somerset, the girl nobody wanted, not even her own family.
She could hardly wrap her head around it.
Willow’s silence and unreadable gaze made Stavros restless and tempted him to shake her, just so he could get a response. “Did you hear what I said?” he demanded.
“But you don’t even like me,” she stammered.
“True.”
She tried not to flinch.
“I don’t like you. You’re nothing like my ideal woman—”
“Keep going,” she snarled. “You’re just getting to—”
“Shut up,” he snapped. “You feel the exact same way about me, but that doesn’t matter either. Nothing fucking matters except this.” He cupped her face with both hands, drawing her close as he conquered her mouth with a short hard kiss.
When he released her, he was satisfied to see her eyes cloudy with desire again.
Stavros’ eyes glittered down at her. “Do you get it now?” he rasped. “It has nothing to do with whether we fucking like each other. I want you. And you want me too.”
“I d-don’t do this kind of thing,” Willow forced herself to say, clinging to what little was left of her sanity.
“Then start with me now.”
Stavros reached for her again, but she shook her head, a wild laugh escaping her. “Are you really saying that? You’re supposed to be one of the good guys.”
“And you’re supposed to be one of the bad girls,” he returned evenly. “Why won’t you accept it? None of it fucking matters.”
Stavros suddenly brought her close to his car, her back against it, his chest pressing against hers. Trapped again, Willow thought dazedly. She should be screaming right now, and she wanted to, but not to ask for help.
“Remember what you told me?” Stavros whispered into her ear. “You told me I don’t stop until I get what I want.”
Her breath caught as his meaning sank in.
“And right now, I want you.”
Her entire body shook at his claim, and every inch of her flesh told Willow it ached to be claimed by him.
“No…I can’t…” She just couldn’t. She wanted him, it was true, but she didn’t love him. Even if it was old-fashioned and people would laugh at her for it, that was a deal breaker for her.