by Cat Porter
He held my eyes with his burning ones. “I remember everything about that night.”
My mouth dried. “If we hadn’t met—”
“Ah—if you hadn’t crashed into me.” He winked at me and sparks went off in my chest.
“If I hadn’t crashed into you and liked you right off—”
“Were you drunk?”
“I was not.”
“You were,” he said, “or I doubt you would’ve come on to me the way you did.”
“I came on to you?”
“Be honest.”
My gaze held his. “There were several glasses of wine and one hit of cocaine, but I wouldn’t call that crazy wild.”
“Then the máti works,” he said his voice low, his eyes flaring with warmth in the light of the streetlamp over us. “It protected you from the attackers’ intent to harm.” He leaned in close to me, his whisper tickling my ear. “It attracted good luck too, didn’t it?”
“Yes.” The word burned in my throat.
His lips hovered over mine, a breath away, that heat churning, churning between us. I glanced back at the display case and touched his arm. “Wait one moment.”
Darting into the small shop, I spoke with the salesman. He pulled a tray of bracelets for me, and I quickly chose the perfect one and paid for it. I joined Turo on the sidewalk with a small gift bag in my hand.
“This is for you. A souvenir that I hope you’ll wear in America and it will make you think of Andros, of me, and our stolen escape. Our luck together.” An ache twisted inside me at the thought of us having to leave Andros. Never seeing him again.
His jaw tensed for a moment, and something clutched at my chest as he took the gift bag from me. Parting was inevitable, wasn’t it? All of this was merely a bit of stolen fun, a frivolity. Not reality, not everyday life.
But it is real. It’s real to me.
“I don’t think I’ll ever forget you or Andros, Lovely,” he breathed.
My heart stumbled.
I took the food bag from his hand, and he opened the small pouch and pulled out a black leather strand with a single small máti charm in dark blue.
I bit at my bottom lip. “Will you wear it or is it too—”
“I like it very much.” He held out his wrist and I widened the bracelet and slid it over his hand, tightening the leather ends over his wrist.
“Thank you.” He touched his lips to mine. Soft warmth, an unexpected gentle caress.
“You’re very welcome.”
Back at the hotel, we ate at the table on my veranda overlooking the inky dark sea. A fluffy, steamy, pita bread stuffed with grilled spicy meat and creamy, garlicky tzatzíki yogurt sauce, along with paper thin slices of red onion, tomato, grated carrot, parsley, and a few french fries. Just what we needed.
“This is good dirty,” he said.
“It’s very good. I’m glad you like it.” I let out a laugh, swiping a napkin along the edge of my mouth.
“What’s so funny?” he asked, chewing.
I tightened the juicy pita roll in preparation for my next bite. “Because I’m sure about now Alessio, Luca, and Gennaro are consuming a three hundred euro lobster and pasta dish along with a few bottles of Cristal. Throw in dessert platters—”
“With one of everything,” he added.
“Of course. Add their favorite Cuban cigars, more liquor—their bill will probably be upwards of ten thousand. This cost us about ten euros and it’s so much more satisfying to me right now.” I took the final bite of my luscious souvláki.
“You’re aware of the prices?” he said, drinking his beer.
I crumpled my napkin and tucked it in the bag. “I may come from money, Turo, but I’ve always been acutely aware of the difference between outrageous indulgence and mere expensive, for one.” My voice came out sharper than I wanted it to and he looked up at me.
“Dammit, woman, now I’m truly impressed with you.”
“It’s not impressive, Turo. It’s reality.” I drained my beer bottle.
“It is.”
We cleaned up, washed up, and returned to the veranda where he’d lit all the candles in the lanterns. I kicked off my sandals, and Turo his shoes, both of us laying down on the divan, looking up at the dark sparkling sky, listening to the waves sloshing and crashing on the rock below us. His heat, the traces of his scent, vied for my attention along with the jasmine from the blooming vine around a column of the villa. These were the scents of our island night.
I fingered his thin bracelet, and his warm hand closed over mine. Curling into him, I dragged my fingers through his hair, behind an ear. I didn’t want him to go. I wanted to fall asleep here under the stars in his arms, my head on his chest.
“Don’t go back to your room,” I whispered. “Let’s sleep out here together.”
He wiped the hair from my face, his hand moving down to my chin, and he kissed me.
Oh, that was a good reply.
He pulled back, his eyes on my lips. My hands slid down his chest and around his warm torso, pulling him closer, and I kissed him right back, my mouth opening fully to his, inviting. I twisted a leg around his, pulling him against my body.
His fingers crept under my top, caressing my skin, and I let out a sigh, my lips trailing down his warm throat. I licked at the throb of his pulse, and an animal-like growl escaped his throat. He pushed up the fabric and raw molten need surged inside me, the urge to feel his skin against mine making me lightheaded. I gasped for air as his mouth planted searing kisses down my flesh to the wide waistband of my trousers, edging them down slowly.
Do this, yes, do this. You want this. You want him.
I raised my hips to help him, and he easily tugged them off.
His eyes caught mine, eyes that glimmered in the flickering candlelight, and my breath burned in my chest. I had no idea what he’d do next, but I knew that Turo would take me on a journey only he could.
Leaning over me, he stroked my center with the hard edge of his nose, and I cried out, my back arching. He sucked on the damp fabric of my knickers taking in my most sensitive flesh over the silk and a low moan escaped me, my body shuddering in his tight grip.
He tugged the fabric down my legs, hands stroking the inside of my thighs, spreading them open. I was bare to him, to the stars, to the night, to this raging desire that brewed between us. Brewed from the first moment we’d laid eyes on each other.
“Adri,” his voice a raw whisper that simmered in my veins.
His hands swept up my body, and his fingertips found my scar, lingering there in its discovery. My pulse jolted and I twisted, taking that hand in mine, away from my scar. Away from all that.
Those fingers slid between my legs. I moaned out at the flare of pleasure, my hips arching off the cushion. A hand cuffed both my wrists, pinning me down. He had me where he wanted me.
“Turo…”
Those lips brushed my mouth, and my tongue met his in a languid dance. He took his time, savoring me, us. We had all the time in the world, didn’t we? And he was going to take it.
His thumb grazed my clit, and he murmured something against my throat which I didn’t understand. His touch grew insistent, his breathing louder. Heat flushed my skin, and his mouth crushed mine again, our kiss turning fierce. The hunger between us roared. Wild, deep, streaked with red, red and dark blues. We were underwater in our own sea, the current powerful.
Turo released his hold on my wrists and his mouth sank between my legs. Another growl escaped his throat, vibrating against my flesh. My one leg hitched around his shoulder, my other foot pushing against the divan as I ground myself against his mouth shamelessly.
His tongue lavished over me, his mouth ripping pleasure from me. He was the pirate looting. He was the crusader conquering. My body trembled and twisted on the thick cushions, and his hand fastened tightly on my hip, keeping me still as two fingers dipped inside me. He blew a small breath in a tiny, careful circle over my wetness.
Burning eyes met mi
ne. “You feel that, Adri?”
I couldn’t answer, I couldn’t think.
He fluttered his tongue over me, around the center of me, and I cried out sharply, my fingers tugging on his hair. He nuzzled and licked and kissed me with a focused, determined abandon. If only I could abandon everything, everything but this, this moment, these sensations and feelings he’d summoned.
Turo. My conjurer, my conqueror.
The wall towered over me. The one I knew so well. The wall that separated me from receiving, from taking. The wall closing me in, threatening. The wall I had carefully built for myself. That familiar tightness filled my chest, my throat, choking me. I stiffened, I pushed back, pushed everything back.
“Stop. Turo, stop!”
I twisted away from him.
Lost his mouth, his touch. Lost him.
Lost.
Everything was a blur.
“Adri?” Turo’s hoarse voice cut through the loud, dull thud of my pulse.
I pressed my bare legs together, feeling the emptiness, the loss of him. A new kind of hollow. He cupped my bare rear, kissing the curve of my hip.
“Adriana…”
I shivered under the tender caress of his touch, his voice. I didn’t deserve them.
“Did I hurt you, baby? Did I do something wrong?”
I folded up my body. “No, no, it’s me. Please…please.”
“I’m sorry,” he whispered roughly. Water on my ashes.
“You have nothing to be sorry for. Please. Don’t. Don’t be nice to me.”
“What are you talking about? I only want to make you feel good, Adri, and I wanted to feel that on me.”
My skin heated. I’d never ever heard anything like that from any man. “It felt good. So good.” I swallowed hard. “Too good.”
“What does that mean? Why did you stop me?”
I sat up, grabbing the thin throw blanket from the arm of the divan, covering myself with it, mortification sloshing through me. “I’m sorry.”
He took my hand in his. “There’s no sorry if you’re not comfortable. I went too far. I couldn’t help myself. I’m the one who’s sorry if I—”
I took my hand back. “It’s me, Turo. I’m the problem.”
“What? What problem? You’re upset. Why?”
My attempt at a smile curled my lips, but it was a shaky, unsteady smile.
“Don’t be embarrassed with me, Adri. You don’t have to be.” He planted a kiss on my knee. “I wanted you to come, to feel good, feel good with my mouth and hands on you.”
I chewed on my lip. “The things you say.”
“I mean them or I wouldn’t say them.”
I believed him.
He wiped a hand down the side of my face. “It’s all right. Let me get you some water.” Turo got up and went back into the room, to the small fridge. I pulled my trousers back on and he returned with a small bottle of water he’d uncapped, and I drank.
He fingered the ends of my hair, smoothing it over my shoulder. “I don’t ever want you to be uncomfortable. Especially because of me.”
I brought up my hand. “I wanted you to go far. I did. I like you very much. Very, very much.” I took in a deep breath to release the tension, the heat of embarrassment, but it didn’t work. His tender thoughtfulness was making me tense again, because I felt awful. Because I was twisted with regrets at not being able to embrace what he’d offered me after I’d invited him to it. To embrace him.
“Is it Alessio?” His eyes hardened like gleaming gemstones. “Have you talked to him? Has he threatened you or done something to make you afraid? Is there something you’re not telling me about the two of you?”
Turo, the problem solver. He wanted an immediate analysis, black and white data, so he could find the solution and resolve the issue. He knew a piece was missing. He knew, and he cared.
But I couldn’t tell him now. Not now.
I shook my head. “No, it’s not Alessio. Nothing like that. I’ve told you everything about him and me.” I chugged another mouthful of the cold water down my burning throat. Wiping at my lips, I squeezed a hand on his thigh. “Let me make it up to you—”
His jaw tightened, his eyes narrowed. “I don’t want you to service me. Not like that.”
Service. The word cut straight through me.
“When you’re ready—” He put my hand over his bulging, stiff erection and rubbed. My eyes fluttered, my insides clenched with liquid heat. “—he’ll be ready for you. I want you on me because you can’t get enough of me, not because of some sense of polite obligation.”
He brushed my lips with his, a quick kiss on my forehead. “We both need sleep.” He tucked the blanket around my body. “And you have to drive us all over the island again tomorrow, my lovely Räikkönen.”
“You follow Formula 1?”
“Yes, why?”
“Not typical for an American, that’s all.”
“That’s me, not typical.”
“No, Turo, you’re not.”
He rubbed my leg over the blanket. “Can I hold you?”
My heart dipped. That he would say that to me after my having stopped him.
“Can I hold you?” fell from my mouth.
We stared at each other, neither of us sure what to say next. He took the water bottle and drank, draining it, tossing it on the table. Taking me in his arms, he lay next to me, curving his body around mine. I sank into his solid warmth, grateful for it, for him. My eyes closed, his steady heartbeat under my ear, setting my breath to its strong rhythm.
“The stars are so bright,” he murmured. “So many stars.”
Sleep sunk its teeth into me. Like Turo DeMarco had.
Silken fangs.
27
Turo
An icy hardness had me in its grip.
I gulped in air, but there was none to be had.
Laughter down a dark tunnel. Loud and shrill. What direction? Where?
I ran but my feet were caught in muck. I fought to raise my leg higher but it was stuck. My mouth opened to yell. Nothing came out.
A violin screeched in the distance, shoving at me.
“Do this for me. Do this for me,” Mauro’s voice filled my ears.
“Do this for me. Do this for me,” Luca’s voice took over.
My mother’s cool almost imperceptible smile flickered before me. My arm was too heavy to reach out to her, my limbs pushed through muck. I opened my mouth to speak, but my vocal chords wouldn’t work. I strained, but only a grunt came out. She vanished.
The violin charged ahead. That laughter. Berezin touching Adri.
“Turo—Turo—”
I pushed my eyes open. Adri leaned over me, her hair a curtain around us. My hands were clamped on her arms. My heart pounded like one of those goblet drums.
“A dream. Only a dream,” she said.
I released her. “Sorry.”
All of that inexplicable yearning I’d wrung dry and stuffed down deep inside me since forever had floated up to the surface, taunting me with its screeching as it always had like some loud, evil cartoon character I wanted to throttle. What I’d had to do on Berezin’s boat had agitated the sediment I’d let settle inside me all these years. That dark, foul residue had come up from the bottom. It brewed, it loomed.
I rubbed at my eyes and glanced at my watch. I’d slept for two hours. The breeze was now cooler and damper, the quarter moon still hovering over us, a cut out in the sky. Adri’s cold body was plastered against mine. Her spicy floral scent poked at my senses.
“You’re cold,” I said.
“So are you.”
I embraced her, and she snuggled against my chest. My grip on her tightened, my pulse doing double time.
What the hell is that?
Quickly, I brought her inside to the bed and laid her on it, covering her with the quilt. She took my hand, her eyes holding mine.
And then it occurred to me.
There was only one explanation for my unusual reac
tions toward this woman. Heart pounding, pulse racing, cock at attention at all times. It wasn’t just some hard attraction, the fierce desire to fuck her and be done with it, or the instinct to protect a young woman who was vulnerable and in danger. With her there were no mazes to figure out, no strategies to come up with, just her and me and—
She reached out and pulled me down on the bed with her and, fitting the quilt over us both, curled her body around mine.
I pressed my lips against her forehead, a swirl of heat filling me. This wasn’t a passing impulse. I knew, because I had many, all the time.
There was only one reason.
Only one.
I was completely in her thrall. How the hell was I ever going to let her go?
My phone vibrated in my pocket, signaling a message. I got it out, flipped it open, my eyes squinting at the bright screen.
Where did you go, Romeo? You better bring Giulietta back if you know what’s good for you - Luca
Luca.
I let out a heavy breath. I didn’t get a message from the jilted lover, but from his brother. Although Luca had given me his guarantee for his uncle’s word, although I had put my life on the line for the good of his business and reputation, I still needed to make nice with that asshole. Running off with his brother’s pseudo-girlfriend wasn’t the greatest idea. Was Adri my Helen of Troy?
The warmth and weight of her sleeping body pressed against mine. I wasn’t bringing her back to that yacht unless she wanted to go. And she didn’t want to go.
Luca Aliberti could go fuck himself.
28
Turo
Räikkönen was at it again.
First thing in the morning, behind the thick leather steering wheel of the Land Rover, Adri powered over a narrow and very high mountain road. The land was positively lush with green once we entered Paleópolis or “old city” as she’d translated as the mountain village’s blue road sign whipped past us.
“This town was the capital of the island in the days of Alexander the Great,” she said. “There’s been years of excavation going on here and they’ve found homes, drainage systems, a marketplace. Look down.”