Irresistible Greeks: Unsuitable and Unforgettable

CHAPTER SEVEN

THERE was nothing wrong with Victoria. She was beautiful, she was pleasant. Smart. She would make a wonderful queen. Over dinner she’d talked at great length concerning how passionate she was about charities, starting foundations and visiting hospitals.

She possessed all the qualities he required for a bride.

Yet as he thought of binding himself to her, he felt nothing. No matter how hard he tried. He felt like he was being suffocated. As if the weight of the crown would physically crush him.

Don’t think of marriage. Think of sex.

If he could find a connection with her on that level, then maybe nothing else would matter. If he could flirt and put them both at ease, put a wall between them, maybe the tightness in his throat would abate.

When the limo stopped in front of the hotel she looked at him from beneath her lashes, her open, friendly expression changing. Seduction, he decided, was her intent. Good. He knew the game. Often, he relished the game.

So, why didn’t he feel anything? Nothing. Not even the slightest twinge of interest in his stomach. When she cocked her head to the side and licked her lips, there was no answering tug in his groin. Indeed, there was no signal coming from south of his belt at all. It was as though that member of his body hadn’t registered her existence.

He was a man, a man with a healthy appetite for sex. And she was, on paper, a sexually attractive woman. What he should be doing was pressing her back against the soft leather seat and claiming her soft pink lips.

His body rejected the idea while his mind replaced the image of a rosy pink mouth with one painted in temptation red. And with that image came a tightness in his chest, his heart pounding harder, his mind suddenly filled with Jessica.

“I had a nice time at dinner,” he said.

“So did I,” she said, cocking her head to the side even farther. Why was it that some women thought affecting the mannerisms of a cocker spaniel was sexy?

Except, usually, he would find this sexy. He just didn’t now. No use pretending he didn’t know why.

“Good night,” he said, opening the door to the limo and stepping out into the cool night. He held the door for her, giving as strong of a hint as he could.

She frowned and slid out, her body on the opposite side of the door to his. “I had a … a really nice time.” Her blue eyes were locked with his, her intentions obvious.

“So you said.”

“I appreciate you taking me out.”

“We’ll go out again. When I’m through with my business here.” Where was the flirtation? Why couldn’t he even pretend that he was interested? Whatever he felt for Jessica, it shouldn’t have the power to reach him here and now. It shouldn’t be able to control his thoughts and actions. That was the sort of thing he’d spent most of his adult life fighting.

“Oh … okay.” She smiled. “That’s good, right?”

It should have been. But he didn’t have any sort of positive feeling about it. “You’re a … nice woman, Victoria.”

Nice? Where the hell had his seduction skills gone?

“Thank you. You’re a nice man, Stavros.” She cleared her throat. “Good night, then?”

“Good night,” he said.

She stepped out of the way of the door and he closed it firmly. He would walk her into the hotel, as was the appropriate thing to do, but that was all.

She looked at him one more time in the lobby of the hotel, requesting a kiss, and when he took a step back he could have sworn he saw a fleeting hint of relief in her eyes.

“Hopefully we’ll see each other again soon,” she said.

“Hopefully,” he said, turning and leaving her in the lobby.

He felt no such hope. He would see her again though. Just because something in him was off at the moment didn’t mean she wasn’t the right candidate for the job. For the marriage.

He grimaced, lifted his hand to loosen his tie, which suddenly felt like a hangman’s noose.

Victoria was a sound choice.

He gritted his teeth. Yes, she was a sound choice. It didn’t matter that he desired someone else. Desire, no matter how strong, did not have a say in the future of his country. Desire could not shake his resolve.

He closed his eyes for a moment, clenched his hands into fists to disguise the unsteadiness in his fingers. It was only lust. Nothing special. Nothing important. A picture of Jessica flashed through his mind and there was an answering kick in his gut.

In spite of his intentions, desire seemed to be shaking him from the inside out. And what he really didn’t want to believe was that a whole lot more than desire was making him tremble.

Jessica wrapped her arms around herself and turned away from the view of the ocean, leaning against the rail of the terrace, the salted breeze blowing at her back, tangling in her hair. She wondered what Stavros was doing. If his date with Victoria has been successful.

Part of her hoped that it had been. He could marry her and they could have gorgeous, royal babies that could inherit the throne of Kyonos. They could be all sexy and royal together and she could go back to her empty house and contemplate the merit of getting a cat.

Yes, that was a good plan. A solid plan. She could name her cat Mittens.

“And how was your evening?”

She turned and her breath caught in her throat, forcing a sharp, gasping sound. Stavros was in the doorway, his black tie draped over his shoulder, the first three buttons of his shirt undone, the sleeves pushed up to his elbows.

He looked like he’d been undressed. She tried to smile while her stomach sank slowly into her toes, jealousy an acrid thing that ate at her insides, working its way out.

“I think that’s my line,” she said. Her words scraped over her dry throat.

“Lovely. Not nearly as lovely as you are. But lovely.” A smile curved his lips and he stepped fully onto the deck, closing some of the distance between them.

There was something strange about his manner. Something too slack. Too easy. “Have you been drinking?”

“Not even a little. But you do make me feel a bit lightheaded.”

“Seriously. What the heck, Stavros?”

“Careful, agápe, you’ll make me think I’ve lost my touch.”

“What did I tell you about not flirting with me?” Rather than the sort of shaky, sexy unease she usually felt when he flirted with her, she only felt anger. He had no right to do this to her. No right at all. He had been on a date with another woman. A date that, ideally, would be the beginning of a ‘til-death sort of relationship.

“You told me not to.” He stepped closer to her, his movements lithe. Graceful. Like a panther. “But I find I can’t help myself.”

“Then get some help from an outside source,” she growled, tightening her arms around herself.

“You are upset with me?” he asked, a boyish, teasing glint in his eye.

“Yes, I am upset with you. I don’t understand you. You kiss me, you act mad about it, you apologize, you go on a date with another woman and now you’re flirting.”

“Victoria was fine.”

“Fine?”

“Adequate. I should like to see her again.”

“What? That’s all?”

“I would like to marry her,” he said between clenched teeth.

“And you came out here flirting with me?”

He shrugged. “I told you why I’m doing this. It has nothing to do with personal feelings or excitement on my part and everything to do with getting things in order for Kyonos.”

“Great,” she said, annoyance deserting her, replaced by a sadness she had no business feeling.

“I prefer it when you smile,” he said, injecting a playful note to his voice.

“I don’t feel like smiling.” She turned away from him, her focus pinned decidedly onto the scenery.

“Why do you do this?”

“Why do I do what?” she asked, not looking at him as she responded.

“Why do you make it impossible for me to reach you?”

“Why are you trying?”

“Because I can’t take a breath without thinking of you,” he said, his voice suddenly real. Raw.

“I don’t …”

“Jessica,” he said, regaining some of his composure, “you know my situation. My obligations. But that doesn’t mean we can’t see where our attraction takes us.”

“Yes, Stavros, yes, it does mean that,” she said, panic fluttering in her chest. Panic and a desperate desire to believe the words he’d just spoken.

His dark brows locked together. “That kiss … it haunts me. It’s eating at me. I need …” He sucked in a sharp breath. “I need you. Tell me you need me, too.”

“I …” She shook her head. “It doesn’t matter if I do.”

His expression shifted, a veil dropping, revealing unguarded hunger. Stark and nearly painful to witness. “Let’s pretend that it does.” The desperation in his tone, the raw need, was beyond her. And yet it called to her, echoed inside of her. “Let’s pretend, like we did the other night, that none of the other stuff exists. That I am just a man. And you are just a woman. A woman I desire above all else.”

She sucked in a breath that tore at her lungs, leaving her raw and bleeding inside, and tried to keep the tears from falling. How could he tempt her like this? “Stavros … that’s the problem, all of that, that stuff we tried to ignore? It is real. And we can’t pretend it’s not. It won’t change anything.”

“Tonight it doesn’t have to be real,” he said, his voice dark, tortured.

“I am not your best bet for a last-minute, commitment-phobic fling,” she admonished. “I am the last woman you should want for that.”

“Why? The attraction between us is real. And you said yourself, it isn’t as though you’re a virgin. You’re an experienced woman who knows what she wants.”

There was no ease now. No flirtation. And he was harder to resist now because of it. Because this was real. What she’d witnessed when he’d first come out onto the terrace, that had been the fake. This was her evidence that he really did want her.

It was unfair. It was too much.

Anger, unreasonable and not entirely directed at Stavros, spilled over. “I’m pointless, don’t you know? Can’t you tell? I can’t have a baby. I am a testosterone killer. I make a man feel like he isn’t really a man. I can’t be pleased sexually. Don’t I know what that does to a man?” She knew she sounded crazy, hysterical. She didn’t care. “I am cold. And frigid. A bitch who cares more for her own comfort than the dreams of her husband, than the hope of a family. Does that sound like the sort of woman you should have a fling with?”

She stood, her hands clenched at her sides, her breathing harsh. Speaking those words, giving voice to every terrible thing she’d been called, every horrible feeling that lived in her, made her feel powerful. It made her feel a little sick, too.

“Jessica … who said those things to you?” he asked, his voice rough.

“Who do you think?”

“Your husband?”

“Ex,” she said, the word never tasting so sweet.

“He was wrong,” he said.

“You don’t know that. I just turned you down, didn’t I?”

“And my ego remains intact.”

“Just go.”

“No. Help me understand,” he said. It was a quiet statement, a simple gesture. It was more than anyone else had ever asked from her or offered her.

“This is one of those things men don’t like to hear about. And by that I mean it contains the word uterus and pertains to that particular ‘time of the month’ that means a man can’t get any action.”

“Try me,” he said, his dark eyes never leaving hers, his jaw tense. “Scare me, Jess. I dare you.”

She forced a laugh. “Fine. I’ll give it a shot. I had endometriosis. I might have it again someday, since it’s still possible to have a flare-up. I don’t know if you really know what that is but it’s incredibly painful. I was one of the lucky ones for whom it was especially bad. It causes bleeding and … pain. Lots of pain. Lots of blood. For me it caused pain during sex. After orgasm. It could last for days for me. And … I started just not wanting to have desire anymore. I didn’t even want to want sex. The reward was too fleeting for what I had to go through and … I rejected my husband. Often. I made him feel undesired. And you know what? He was.”

She was sure that had to have done the trick. That had to have scared him. “I think that’s your cue to turn and run.”

He crossed his arms over his chest, his eyes never leaving hers. “I’m not a runner. Did it hurt you all the time?”

“Most of the time. I’ve had …” She always tripped over the word hysterectomy because there was something so defeating about it. “I had a procedure done to help, and it has, but … I haven’t tested how well it worked in terms of … it still scares me.”

“Jess …”

She was the one to take a step back. She shook her head. “It’s not worth it, Stavros. For one night? It’s not worth it. I’m way too much trouble. If you want one more fling before you get married make it with someone who’s easy. And I don’t mean that in the general sense. Make it with someone who actually wants sex.”

The idea of trying it again, of failing again, destroyed her. It was more than just what it might mean to him. It was that she wanted it so much, and the thought of desiring yet one more thing that remained out of her reach was too painful to even consider.

She’d made success. She’d left her failures behind. There was no point repeating the same mistakes.

“I’m tired.” She turned away from him and headed back to the house.

Stavros watched Jessica walk back into the villa, her arms wrapped around her body as though she were holding herself together with her own strength.

He felt numb. Numb and in pain all at once. He’d come out with the express purpose of seducing her. Of finding a way to put her in a category he was comfortable with. To embrace his sexual need and ignore the strange ache in his chest that seemed to appear whenever she was around.

It hadn’t worked. She hadn’t allowed the distance, and he certainly hadn’t been able to retreat behind the security of flirtation, not after that admission.

What an ass he was for making her confess something like that.

She was right, he should run. He should take her advice and focus on his upcoming marriage. Or find a woman to help him burn through his pent-up sexual desire.

He took a heavy breath and walked into the house, heading for his office. He closed the door behind him and sat at his computer desk. He ought to email his father, at the very least, to let him know he was almost certain he was close to finding the future queen of Kyonos.

Instead he opened his internet browser and stared at the blinking cursor in the text box of the search engine.

Then he typed in endometriosis.

She wanted to cry, and she couldn’t. She’d spent so long forcing herself to keep it together that now she actually wanted to take a moment to fall apart, she couldn’t.

It was impossible to force tears.

She just lay on her bed and stared out the window at the moon glimmering on the surface of the ocean. It was the perfection of nature, beautiful and unspoiled. She would never understand why some things were fashioned so perfectly when she wasn’t.

Why her body seemed to have been put together wrong when so many other people were made just right. Why she hadn’t been able to just buck up and deal with it. Why the shame and failure still ate at her like a parasite.

And she wanted Stavros so much she could hardly stand living in her skin. She wanted to touch him, wanted to taste him. She wanted to kiss him again, to have all that passion directed at her. Mostly she wished she could go back and not tell him about her endometriosis. It had been so nice to have a man look at her like she was beautiful. To have him not see her as different from other women, not in a bad way, but in a way that made her seem special rather than damaged.

When he said she was different, he hadn’t meant broken. He hadn’t meant pointless. Worthless as a woman or a partner.

His perception of her had been a lie, sure. But it was one she would have been happy to live in for just a little while.

She closed her eyes and let their kiss play through her mind again. Allowed herself to relive what it had been like to feel the pressure of his hard body against hers. To feel his lips against hers, so hot and demanding. So unlike any man she’d ever kissed.

Desire coiled in her stomach, her heart beating faster, her body begging her for some sort of release. Release she’d denied herself for so long. Too long, maybe.

She sat up and balled her hands into fists, pushing against her closed eyes. Without thinking, she stood, her heart hammering as she slipped out into the hall and looked in the direction of Stavros’s room. He would be in there by now, asleep.

And he wanted her. He’d said he did. It was such a rush. Such a shot of adrenaline. Pure, feminine pleasure. To be wanted. To want someone.

Her hands trembled and she shook them out, trying to steady them. Trying to steady herself. Easier said than done. She breathed in, then out again.

What if she could have a little bit of it? Something guaranteed. Something she couldn’t fail at. She tried to swallow but the motion stuck in her dry throat. The idea of sleeping with Stavros was the most elating and terrifying thing she could imagine. To be so vulnerable to a man who was so perfect. To take a chance at failing again. At being revealed as not good enough.

Blood roared in her ears as she made her way to his room. She stopped and wiped her hands, damp with sweat, on her skirt. She knocked lightly on the door, not pausing to think because, if she did, she would have just turned and scurried back to the safety of her bed.

“Yes?” She heard Stavros’s sleep-roughened voice from the other side of the door and she pushed it open.

He was propped up on his elbows, the sheets riding low around his waist, revealing his chest. The moon glanced off the hard ridges of muscle, the valleys cast into shadow, giving his body the impression of cut stone.

He was utter perfection. Just as she thought, that was not the sort of chest she’d ever touched before. And she was dying to touch him. Aching for it. His beauty drew her in, but it also intimidated.

“I couldn’t sleep,” she said. So lame. “Obviously you could so maybe I shouldn’t have come.”

“I wasn’t sleeping well,” he said.

“That’s good, I …” She took a step forward. “Can I?”

“Please,” he said, his face half-hidden in shadow, his voice strained.

She sat on the edge of the bed and held her hand out in front of her, curling it into a fist, then flexing her fingers as she fought against indecision. Then she placed her palm on his chest and her breath caught as a shock of fire streaked through her veins.

He was so hot, his hair rough on her skin, his muscles hard, his skin smooth. She let her fingers drift down over his sculpted muscles, lightly skimming, following the ripple of his body.

She leaned in and kissed his lips. He remained frozen beneath her, his stomach rock-hard beneath her hand, his body wound tight. She could feel his tension, flowing from every tendon and into her fingertips. Hers to command. Hers to enjoy.

Maybe she couldn’t have everything she wanted. But she could have some of it. He wanted her. And she could satisfy him. Without having to give up any power. Without being vulnerable. Without failing.

“What are you doing?” he asked, his forehead resting against hers, his lips a whisper away.

“If you have to ask, I must not be doing it right. It has been a while, maybe protocol has changed?” She kissed his neck, tasted salt and sweat on his skin.

She let her hands slide down beneath the sheet, where she found him hard for her, a whole lot bigger than she’d anticipated. An involuntary rush of air hissed through her teeth, matching time with Stavros’s sharp intake of breath as she curled her fingers around his erection.

In this, she was certain. Giving a man pleasure without taking any for herself had been a necessity in the latter days of her marriage. A desperate attempt to hold things together. A way to keep intimacy without having to deal with any physical discomfort.

She could do the same now, with Stavros. A way to have him without risking anything. It seemed so easy.

Except she was getting a lot hotter than she’d anticipated, and it made the thought of leaving his bed unsatisfied a lot less … satisfying than it had seemed a few moments earlier. Still, even without an orgasm she was enjoying this. Enjoying wanting him. Enjoying exploring his body.

It was a slice of what she wanted, and she’d learned to accept that that was how life was for her. Little tastes here and there of true pleasure, while the full experience stayed out of her reach. It would be enough, because it had to be.

She pressed a kiss to his pectoral muscle and down to his nipple, sliding her tongue over it, feeling it tighten beneath her touch.

His hand came up to the back of her head, fingers sifting through her hair. She smiled against his skin and continued to pepper kisses over his body. “You have the most incredible chest,” she said, “among other things.” She squeezed his shaft lightly. “I have never, ever, seen a man like you. Much less been close enough to have a taste. And I was really looking forward to it. You do not disappoint.” She lifted her head and tugged the sheet down, exposing him. “Oh, no, you don’t disappoint at all.”

Her heart beat hard, echoing in her temples, at the apex of her thighs. He was amazing. Everything she’d imagined and so much more. She leaned in and trailed her tongue over his stomach muscles, then flicked it over the head of his shaft. He jerked beneath her tongue, a rough groan escaping his lips as he tightened his hold on her hair.

She felt like she’d been let loose in a candy store. Every delight she could imagine spread before her. And she wasn’t planning on employing restraint.

She slipped her hand lower, took as much of him into her mouth as she could, reveling in the taste, the feel of him. She could feel the muscles in his thighs shaking, feel the tension in his body as he tried to maintain control.

She didn’t want his control. She wanted him to lose it. She wanted him to lose it in a way that she couldn’t. She wanted him to do it for her. She more than wanted it, she needed it. Needed his strength to dissolve beneath her, needed to be a part of his undoing. She wanted to exercise the power she had over him. And she did have it. She could feel it. Could feel just how close he was to losing it completely.

That was what she wanted. Needed. Craved. To have victory tonight, in his bed. To be perfection for him. For herself.

“Jessica,” he said, and he tugged lightly, trying to move her away from him.

She didn’t stop. She ran her tongue along his heavy length and she felt his ab muscles contract sharply beneath her hand.

“Jess,” he said again. His tone a warning.

She lifted her head, her eyes locking with his. His gaze was clouded, sweat beaded on his forehead. A surge of power rushed through her. “This is for me,” she said. “I want you like this. And I intend to have you.”