A Perfect Man: International Billionaires IV: The Greeks

by Caro LaFever

  “Sophie,” he growled in frustration at her demand he stop seeing her beauty and at the demand from inside that he act like a man of honor. Planting his hands beside her shoulders, he lifted himself off her body. “We should stop.”

  “Stop?” Her eyes widening in horror. “Why would we stop?”

  “Because…” he trailed off, his gaze irresistibly drawn down, down to the parts of Sophie he’d been covering. Parts like her tender, round tummy. Parts like her plump, pretty thighs. Parts like her rosy brown curls masking the best part of a woman.

  “Alex.” Two tiny hands slapped down on those amazing, rosy brown curls. “Go turn off the light.”

  “Gamó̱.” Yes. Correct. He was truly fucked. Either way he went with this woman, he’d be going wrong.

  Ripping the covers off, he leapt from the bed and stomped to the door. The light switch was right by the door and for a second, he didn’t know which one he’d go for. If he switched off the light and returned to her, he’d get to be inside her and feel her, but not see her, not get all of her. If he walked out the door, he’d be a gentleman his mother would be proud of and he’d probably never get close to the gorgeous Sophie body ever again.

  He stopped in front of the light switch. And the door.

  “Okay.” Her voice, that snazzy, snappy voice, piped in from behind him. “Your ass is magnificent, Stravoudas. I want it in my hands, though, not across the room.”

  A reluctant chuckle came from deep inside him.

  He was a gamozo-o, as his dad would say. A fucking animal. Not since he’d been seventeen had he ever deserved the title, but now, well, now there was Sophie.

  He reached up and flicked off the light.

  The shadows were deeper and darker than earlier, yet he still saw her round cheeks and pretty bow mouth. He still saw her glorious dark hair spread across his white pillows. He still saw the mound of her body under the sheets, a body that would be sweet and salty and sexy when he began to touch and taste.

  “Come here,” she demanded.

  His cock twitched and surged, and he surrendered his lingering concern. He shouldn’t do this; she’d been crying a minute ago. But God, he’d wanted her for so long, he couldn’t say no to her or to his body.

  He could, however, make this perfect for her.

  This was the first time with Sophie.

  He needed to make this good, make this the best. He’d been told by all his previous lovers he was fantastic and she deserved the best of him. Not some quick in and out with his complete loss of control. He hadn’t even worshiped her breasts or tasted between her legs. If he couldn’t see her, at least he could touch her. And taste her.

  For now, that would have to be enough.

  Pacing back to the bed, he slipped under the covers and pulled her to his heated side. The soft cushion of her breasts pressed along the side of him.

  The flame of desire rioted inside his blood.

  He tugged the sheet off and rolled on top of her again. Pushing himself onto his elbows, he looked down and his mouth went dry. Even in the shadows, he saw enough. The round, full mounds. The pearled sheen of her skin. The tight puckered nipples.

  “Oh, but…” Her hands came up, this time shielding her breasts.

  He kept his patience, barely. “The room is dark. Let me see what I can.”

  The glint of her eyes caught the dim light of the streetlights outside. He waited for her—she had to give him at least this. At least this much.

  Finally, she sighed and let her hands fall onto the pillows.

  Any man would have noticed her breasts, even if they were layered in a wool coat or a god-awful orange rag of a T-shirt. Yet seeing her breasts naked was a gift from lust heaven; feeling them was even better.

  Lush and creamy, they filled his shaking hand.

  Closing her eyes, she moaned in pleasure.

  “Sophie,” he whispered in male adoration.

  Her nipples were dark and dusky. Everything inside him demanded he flick a light on to see the color once more, to see them react as he sucked. Instead, he took what he could. He leaned down and sipped, sucking her flesh into his mouth, tasting the sweet tang of her need.

  “Ooooh.”

  He smiled against her skin, liking this oh more than any of the other ohs she’d given to Paris.

  This oh was his. All his.

  He switched his attention to her other nipple and tweaked the wet one he’d just abandoned.

  Another ooooh, this one longer and higher.

  He was on his game now, he had this and her. His cock still wanted everything right away, but he reined it in and he knew he’d be able to do this correctly, right until the very end.

  He wanted to please her more than any other lover she’d ever had.

  Sliding his hand down her curved tummy, he let the tip of his finger drift along the beginning of her curls. Back and forth, back and forth.

  Sophie responded exactly as she should with a nice gasp.

  Alex smiled as he slanted in to taste the underside of her breast, using his tongue to lick and stroke. Meanwhile, his fingers brushed lower and lower, until his middle finger pressed gently through the curls and straight to the core of her sex.

  Wet. Very wet.

  His smile turned into a satisfied smirk.

  She cried out.

  Playing and petting, he focused his complete attention on giving his lover all the pleasure she deserved. He didn’t allow his body anything more than a nudge or two of his erection against her thrashing legs.

  His erection could wait.

  He watched with satisfaction as her excitement rose. Her eyes opened and closed, giving him a dazed look before long, dark lashes covered her gaze. Her tiny hands scratched along his shoulders and then tightened on his biceps as she came closer to orgasm.

  So tender, her inner heart. He drew her wetness over her clit and down into the center of where his cock would soon find its place. With a careful twist, he skimmed a finger around her opening, preparing the way and eliciting another long oh from her.

  A thrill of accomplishment went through him.

  She was close, close to what he wanted to give her. Her thighs fell apart, letting him fully in. His fingers danced and plucked, took and gave. Leaning in, he flicked his tongue on one dusky nipple and then the other.

  Her torso rose, flushed with the hunger he’d wrung from her. His lover cried out her passion, her nipple stiffening in his mouth, her center tightening around his inserted finger.

  Alex lifted his head to look at her face as she came down from the pleasure. Her little, round cheeks glowed with excitement, her lips were open, her breathing heavy. He loved how her dark brows arched as if questioning the perfection of what he’d given her.

  His cock dripped with desire and now, finally, it was his time. He grabbed a condom and sheathed himself with shaking hands. Lifting himself on top of her warm, welcoming body, he kissed her lax lips before positioning himself. “Sophie.”

  She blinked. Blinked again.

  “Look at me,” he said, “as I take you.”

  Her hand lifted to brush his hair back from his mouth and over his shoulder. The hand remained there, clutching him. “Hmm.”

  The low sound was enough of an invitation for him to come into her, a place he’d yearned for with more than his cock, more than his desire. The realization choked inside him, but greed blinded him and he let it float away.

  “Aaah.” So tight. His eyes closed with the feel of her. So hot and wet and willing. Elation rolled through him, a mix of pure pleasure and profound pride he’d won her.

  Won Sophie.

  The urge to spill inside her was overwhelming, yet he held onto his lust. He wanted to give to her again, give her the perfect pleasure she deserved. Opening his eyes, focusing, he moved over her, in her, arching his pelvis to press on her clit.

  Her brown gaze went opaque before closing and he captured her moan with a hot swipe of his tongue inside her mouth.

 
Setting a hard pace, he lunged in and out of her, faster and faster. The urgency of his need blistered, but he held it at bay, waiting for her to follow him, reach him and come before him.

  She stiffened, throwing her head back, just as she’d done before, and her legs came around his hips, pressing him to go faster.

  The breath in his throat caught, then burst from him and for a moment, he thought he’d lost the control, lost this drive. She saved him, though, by coming. Another low moan erupted from her and the feel of her hot, wet channel tightening around him sent him over the edge.

  Long minutes went by before he came back to himself, came back from the black, brilliant oblivion Sophie Feuer had sent him into. He realized he was still slumped on her round, small body. Cursing inside at his lack of concern, he rolled over, taking her with him.

  His breathing slowed and his skin cooled. He felt as if he could conquer anything, make anything happen. He felt a sense of completeness he’d never imagined he’d have in a woman’s arms. The thought returned, the one he’d hid from.

  He wanted more of Sophie. All of her.

  And then she opened her mouth. “That was interesting.”

  * * *

  Sophie woke to a big, warm hand on the round mound of her stomach. Hot breath whispered on the hairs at the back of her neck. A long, hairy leg pressed between her own and she was pretty sure that wasn’t a broomstick poking into her.

  Her eyes popped open.

  Daylight flooded the room. The sun’s rays were bright and dazzling, signaling a beautiful, early-winter day.

  In Paris.

  Right. She was in Paris.

  A grumble came from behind her as the rasp of a bearded chin rubbed along her shoulder. The big hand on her tummy tightened, bumping her butt against the hard pressure of the not-a-broomstick.

  “Sophie,” a sleepy male voice rumbled into her neck.

  Alex.

  Right. She was in bed with him.

  With Alex Stravoudas.

  The memories returned. The magic of the Christmas windows and merry-go-round. The kiss under the bright lights of the Eiffel Tower. The walk back to the apartment in a haze of desire.

  Alex naked.

  Alex touching her.

  Alex inside her.

  He hummed behind her. Another of his tugs brought her into the curve of his lean body, the feel of his hot chest on her back making her shiver.

  “Cold, krotída mou?” Another hand slid to her breasts and squeezed. “I can make you warm.”

  Yes. He could. Alex Stravoudas made her very warm last night, and he could do it again with his perfect kisses and perfect touches and perfect sex.

  In the daylight.

  Complete daylight.

  Yanking the duvet to her neck, she pushed his hand off her breast. “Don’t you have a meeting this morning with Henry as usual?”

  The big body behind her stiffened, but then he hummed once more and she felt the scrape of his overnight beard on the top of her spine as he nuzzled into her like she was his prize.

  “Alex?” She needed him to get out of bed and go into the bathroom so she could escape.

  “Hmm.” The scraping sensation drifted down until the softness of his mouth and tongue traced the line of her spine back to her neck. He licked there, moving to the side and then, to her ear.

  Unwillingly, her nipples tightened and a tingle spread between her legs. Still, she didn’t want to have sex with him again.

  Not in broad daylight.

  And not like last night.

  When she’d said it had been interesting, she’d said exactly what she meant. Yes, she’d had multiple, amazing orgasms and yes, he’d done a magnificent job at having sex with her.

  But that’s what was wrong.

  She had the clear impression he’d felt as if it was his job.

  She didn’t appreciate having sex with men who got into bed intent on making a point. Not that she’d ever had the experience before. Usually, her old boyfriends got in, had fun, and then started to snore. She’d never thought about multiple orgasms while having sex. She’d been just glad for the human connection and grateful the boyfriend didn’t demand anything unusual.

  Like seeing her completely naked with the lights on.

  Like Alex had wanted last night.

  “Henry’s going to be wondering where you are,” she pointed out, trying to control her breath as he nibbled on her earlobe. “It must be at least nine o’clock.”

  His response was a tongue teasing in her ear. The tease sprinkled a hot reaction across her skin and she couldn’t help the tiny gasp that escaped.

  He chuckled.

  “Stop.” She scrunched her head to her neck, pushing him away.

  He grunted.

  Yes, the man had all the moves. Touched all the right places. Yet she continued to get the feeling he’d approached sex with her as he approached selling his next project, or building a better skyscraper than the other guy, or being…Mr. Perfect.

  Behind her, Mr. Perfect had regrouped. His breath ruffled through her hair as he started playing with her nipples. His fingers knew precisely what to do. They perfectly assessed her needs and wants and her nipples loved what he did.

  She did not.

  She did not like to be played with.

  “Alex.” Jerking away, she rolled into the covers and turned to face him armored in Egyptian cotton and French sateen.

  His cerulean blue eyes were hazy with passion and his lush mouth was wet from kissing her skin. His golden hair fell around his masculine face giving him the look of an angelic devil. A caramel brow rose. “What?”

  He’d been a bit put-out at her interesting comment last night, but when she’d bent over him to ask what the heck that was all about, he’d kissed her before she could squawk. Then he’d enveloped her in his warm embrace before she could find her wits. Within a few minutes, he’d been asleep and, feeling nice about being held, Sophie had soon done the same.

  “You need to leave.” She didn’t think discussing his perfect mechanical lovemaking while they were naked was a good idea. Better left to do when taking a long walk or drinking a good glass of wine.

  Because she wanted to have sex with Alex again. However, she wasn’t going to take Mr. Perfect in his stead. Not ever again.

  “Do I?” he murmured.

  The sunlight dappled across his honeyed skin like a splatter of white paint on gold. His nipples were tan discs and the smattering of blond hair around them only seemed to draw her gaze to their perfection.

  Noticing her attention, the man pushed the sheets down to his waist and stretched his arms above his head. Laying himself out like a tempting pastry.

  “Yes,” she snapped as she clutched the sheets with tight hands. “You do.”

  His blond brows frowned and his blue eyes went dark with frustration. “That damn tragic story. Again.”

  “No. That’s not—”

  “We’re going to have to talk about it. It might as well be now.”

  It might as well be never. “You need to get to work.”

  “No, I don’t.” Propping his hands behind his neck, his face turned serious. As if he was going to be her bossy psychiatrist. “You’re more important.”

  His words made her all fuzzy inside, yet his arrogant attitude made her want to bop him on his big, elegant nose. Before she could decide whether she should hit him or kiss him, the buzz of his cell rattled from the bedside.

  He ignored it, staring at her, instead.

  “Answer your phone.”

  Sighing and shaking his head, he leaned over to stare at the phone. “It’s Henry.” His voice was empty of emotion.

  Another interesting thing to think about. What the heck was going on with him and the emir’s building and Henry? She’d formed the impression, while observing Alex during the last few months, that his business was a bright spot in his life. Not the only spot, but certainly one of the brightest. No guy reached the pinnacle of architectural prominence by
neglecting his work. Still, during the last week, it appeared to her Alex wasn’t merely neglecting, he was avoiding.

  Interesting.

  “You should answer the phone,” she said.

  With a grunt of disgust, he swung his legs over the side of the bed and reached for the cell. “Yeah.”

  He sounded like a sullen teenager.

  But he didn’t look like one.

  Loosening the covers from around her because she suddenly felt quite hot, she nudged herself up to lean on the padded headboard. She couldn’t pull her gaze from the fine line of his broad shoulders, the sharp cut of his male shoulder blades, the graceful arch of his masculine spine. The silver-gray sheets clustered around his hips, showing only the beginning of the cleft of his butt.

  Warmth, a warmth he created without touching her or kissing her, flooded through her body.

  He was so beautiful, so perfect.

  And she wanted him to be hers, all hers.

  The truth of that fact, the painfully pleasurable truth, rumbled in her soul.

  “Yeah?” He brushed his curls back and the strands caught the sunlight. Gold and blond and honey swirled in his hair, dazzling her with their radiance.

  He straightened, the line of his spine growing taut. “I didn’t agree to that.”

  Sophie noted how his hand tightened on the phone. What was going on?

  “No way.” He stood in a quick snap and paced to the bathroom door. Stopping, he leaned one shoulder on the wall.

  The grace of his movements caught her attention once more. The way his butt clenched as he walked, the muscles of his legs tightening as he stopped, the sweep of glory that was his strong back. A Greek god come to life, a marble statue walking off its pedestal and into her life.

  “I won’t do it, Henry.” His head dropped.

  She couldn’t see his face, yet the tone of his words told her everything. He was angry, frustrated. What was wrong?

  “Four years?” His voice rose. “Four years of my life in that godforsaken place?”

  A horrible silence fell as he listened to whatever Henry said.

  “Maybe not all the time, but a lot of the time.” His big hand threw his long hair over his shoulder in a motion of rejection as he turned to face her, his eyes downcast. “We started at two years. Now that’s doubled and I won’t do it.”