A Perfect Wife: International Billionaires V: The Greeks (21 page)

The wary look deepened at her silence. “I’ll ask again. One more time. Do you want me?”

“
Nai
.” Before he could react to her confession, she leaned in and pressed her mouth to his.

His lips were soft, slack with surprise. Warm, with a hidden wet waiting for her tongue. Something passed between them when their tongues met. Some current and connection that felt as real as any lightning bolt, as real as the pull of magnetic forces coming together.

The last bit of icy fear melted in the pit of her soul.

She loved him. Loved him.

His hands roamed her body, slipping over the silk and heating her skin beneath. His mouth firmed and became fierce in his need, his tongue diving in to taste her and take her. His heat and scent lifted off him in waves of masculine desire and she felt as if she were sinking into him.

She needed to be closer, tighter.

Her body writhed on top of his, hating the layers of cloth lying between them. But she was too engrossed in his kiss, in his touch, to take the time to get rid of the impediments. She couldn’t get enough of his taste; the mint of his toothpaste, the lingering cut of red wine. Underlying both, the pure, sweet sex of the man.

Suddenly, he wrenched his lips from hers.

Her hands flew to his face and tried to tug him back to her mouth.

He laughed. A short hot blast of air on her cheeks. His dark eyes gleamed with a golden glow of passion as well as determination. “Natalie, stop.”

“What?” Her heart stopped with a thunk. Then sunk down and down and down.

“I’m not going to let you push me over the edge.”

“Why not?” Seriously? The man was going to stop this now, when she’d finally taken the last step into oblivion and certain disaster in the future. He was going to stop her from loving and giving herself to him. The sliver of icy fear rose again and chilled inside her and for a moment, she thought this might be for the best.

In the next second, hot fury ran through her at his rejection, burning the ice to vapor.

Before she could yell or hit or kill, the damned man rolled her over on the bed, whipping the covers down as he did it. His powerful, athletic body pinned her to the soft mattress, his hard erection searing through her silk nightie.

All yelling, hitting, killing impulses vanished to be replaced with confusion.

She frowned.

“Don’t frown,
téleia gynaíka mou
.” His mouth slipped across the skin of her cheek as if he were tasting a fine wine or suckling a ripe grape.

“What are you doing?”

He glanced up, the richness of his gaze glowing with pleasure. “I’m going to take this slow. No matter what you do or say.”

“Take this slow?” Her brain refused to work because her body was way too busy sending a multitude of signals.

Like the strength of his erection on her belly.

Like the streak of sweat rolling down his strong neck.

Like the way his hands were cupping her non-existent breasts.

“For once in my life,” his voice slurred as his gaze dropped to where his hands held her. “I’m going to do this slowly.”

Before her scrambled brain could wrap itself around his meaning…for once in his life…? Aetos Zenos proceeded to show her what it meant to do this slow.

When had he stripped her? She’d been too busy with his mouth to notice.

When had he become naked? She’d been too fascinated with how the light and heat of the fire turned his hair to a tawny mass of curls to comprehend.

When had he put on a condom? She’d found it impossible to keep her brain working when all her senses were so alive.

His voice curled around her, the English words falling away into a swirl of Greek. His mother tongue slid along the vowels, caressing them with praise and passion, as his sinewy hands and long, blunt fingers fondled her body.

She couldn’t catch her breath. Had already lost her soul.

“
Afí̱ mou
.” His hoarse cry broke from his throat and he stared at her. His eyes were glazed with a need as fierce and bright as the need she felt inside herself. She didn’t know the word, but knew his meaning by the way he stared at her.

Touch me
.

She’d been so overwhelmed, so in awe of him and his desire. She hadn’t touched him.

Yet.

Her fingers were made to slide across his hot skin. Her palms were made to lie on his heart and feel the beat of his blood. Her angular body, the one she’d dismissed as unfit, her body now found its place in this life. Along his side, beneath this male, surrounding him with her arms and legs and womanly want.

He entered her, entered her body and her heart. He filled her with his body and his presence. His gaze latched onto hers as he slid all the way into the deepest part of her. And she knew with sudden clarity, this was not her sacrifice alone. She was not the only one giving.

“Natalie.”

His whisper—his accent rolling her name with love, his voice filled with desire and need—was the last word her mind remembered. For the rest of her life, her body and her heart would be what remembered every moment that came next. He imprinted himself into her soul as surely as a brand of fire emblazoned itself on skin.

He moved. His hips lifted and drove back onto her own. Deep inside her, he surged, his hot masculinity pumping and pushing into the core of her femininity. An electric energy blazed through her veins as he continued to claim her, own her.

His gaze never left hers.

Everything swirled in those chestnut eyes and she understood. She knew him right to the center. She knew his heart, knew his anger and pain. With some deep primal wisdom, she found a way to pull those terrible memories out of him. Maybe it was the way she touched his back and experienced the heave of his breath. Or possibly it was the way her legs brushed his hips and urged him on. Perhaps it was the core of her, accepting him, wrapping his need in the hot fist of her desire.

But more than anything, it was the love she knew shone from her own eyes.

The last of the dark shadows slipped from his, to be replaced with golden shimmers of purity. “
Agápi̱ mou
.”

My love
.

Her heart leapt with a fearful hope. She let it stay high and free. This moment was too precious to crush the feeling inside her.

“Aetos.” She arched into him, sure now that this, this bonding, was worth any future sacrifice.

He threw his head back with a gasp at her movement. The firelight etched his beauty with fingers of gold. His olive skin burnished to dusky bronze, his curls dampened to dark honey with the burn of his passion. The gilded edge of his mouth wide as he panted.

She closed her eyes and let him sweep her away. Time blurred, sounds hushed. All she knew was the heat and thrust. All she could grasp was the coming together, of becoming truly one with a man for the first time in her life.

For the last time in her life.

Taking the knowledge in, her heart wept with delight knowing she’d found her mate. Her heart also cried with grief, understanding she would never find this again if this man walked away from her.

Her heart trembled as it soared with an agonizing faith.

With a cry, he lost the last of his control. She felt it slip from his grasp and she rejoiced in it. In the total freedom he had with her. To lose himself. To let her see everything.

Hope bloomed, rolling out of her heart and into her soul and spirit.

His pace increased. Her hopes and love and dreams wrapped around her lust, coiling inside her, a tightening, grinding greed.

For this man, for his body and his need.

For his passion.

Her hands moved across the flex of his back muscles down to the thrusting hips. She grasped his butt with firm hands and pushed him closer to her. Farther into her. The building heat twisted tighter at her core and she pressed herself into him, reaching for what she wanted with an urgent desperation.

His head dipped and his breath slid hot on her cheek and her neck. His arms bracketed her body as he thrust hard into her. Harder and harder.

White electricity shot through her and she keened a high cry, rising closer and closer to the edge. His lips swallowed her air as he punched his tongue as deeply into her mouth as his cock plunged into her body.

Deep inside, he came to her. Thrust into the heart of her and found his place. She sensed it deep within, the binding and bonding. The moment when he became hers and they found each other. The moment she fell over and over, tumbling into him.

He stilled above her, his every muscle rigid in release. He rose, his arms straining as his hips thrust one last time.

The moment, the moment would live inside her forever.

He stared down at her, gasping, his expression alive with love.

And fear.

Before she allowed her heart to fall into the abyss, she closed her eyes and clung. The only thing she allowed herself to feel was his body. The slick sweat on his skin. The weight of his muscles as he relaxed into her arms. The soft puff of breath on her neck as he exhaled.

Moments. Minutes. Maybe hours.

She had no idea how much time had passed before she opened her eyes. The simmering fire had burned down and the cool night air brushed her skin sending a string of goose bumps shivering across her flesh.

He lay on top of her, his body deep inside, his muscles lax, his weight heavy. Wonderful.

She wouldn’t think. Wouldn’t allow herself to think of anything other than this.

Nat ran her fingers through his rioting curls and they clung to her as if in supplication. His head nestled in her neck, his face and fear hidden from her gaze. His palms drew a lazy pattern on her hips.

His sex lay inside her, still connecting them. Male and female.

A hushed silence fell between them. She imagined it as the kind of silence one experienced when facing an artistic masterpiece or hearing angels sing. A silence filled with joy at what could be created between two humans when they brought their bodies together, their souls together.

She wouldn’t think of his fear. She would only allow herself to hold on to his love.

The cadence of his breath slowed and deepened.

Her lover slept. At peace.

T
he first thing
he noticed when he awoke was the lightness inside him.

The utter lightness.

He’d slept. Like no other time in his life, even during these last weeks in this bed by her side, had he slept with a such deep, soul-drenching tranquility. Not even as a child, when he’d fallen asleep listening to his parents argue, had he fallen so deeply into a restful trance. Never, ever had he fallen into a peaceful slumber after wild sex in a woman’s arms.

The second thing he noticed was he still lay on top of her. Still lay inside her warm, welcoming embrace. Still lay inside her hot, wet core.

Immediately, he hardened.

And realized he had not taken care of what he’d always taken care of before.

He’d fallen asleep with the condom on. The thought should have made him crazy with worry. Instead, all he could think about was how content he felt in her arms.

Throaty laughter filled his ear. A second later, the softness of her mouth sampled his skin, nipped his earlobe.

“Ouch.” He propped himself up. Gave her his best scowl. “That hurt. I also need to take care of the old condom before we start with a new one.”

She smiled at him, apparently unconcerned about the risk they’d taken.

He didn’t want to think about it. He didn’t want to slip out of the bliss he felt in the center of his soul. Easing off her body, he stood.

Her long, blonde hair lay strewn across the white pillow, looking like gold filigree on white marble. Her violet eyes were a blaze of color in her creamy face. The covers had fallen at her waist, leaving her breasts naked to his avid view.

“Hurry,” she husked.

He paced down the hallway to the bathroom. The night was still young, he could tell by the moonlight dancing along the wall as he walked back to the bedroom. An unfamiliar bubble of amusement struck him at the thought of his grandmother poking her nose out of her room to find him prancing naked in her home.

“Come here,” Natalie said from the bed. Her mouth slanted in a sultry smile.

He closed the door behind him with a snap.

Within a second or two, he had a new condom on and was lying on top of her soft body. “Now where were we?”

“I think, right here.” She raised her head and nipped his ear once more.

“Ouch,” he grumbled again, the light feeling circling back into him.

“Let me make it better,” she cooed and drew him down to her delicious mouth, her talented tongue.

The light inside of him grew as he began to move on her. It lit his heart and soul. It brightened his brain and breath. The light was tied to her, he knew it. Felt it and feared it. Still, the pace of his lust and the thrust of his sex would not be denied. She wrapped around him like a Circe siren, but this time he fell for her temptation, this time he answered her call with no regrets.

The fear would come later. He knew this. Right now, though, he didn’t care.

“Aetos.” The softness in her tone told him what he would face soon.

He looked into those amethyst eyes and saw everything. Everything he’d never wanted from a woman. Everything he’d ever dreamed of from this woman.

The lightness inside him answered her. He knew what must shine from his own eyes.

So he closed them. Tightened them and let himself sink deep into the dark lust running through his veins.

Yet, he could not escape her. Could not escape the sure knowledge that what he did with his body, with her, was nothing at all like he’d done with the women he’d had before. This was not a male taking a female. This was not pounding into a woman until he found release for his aching cock. This was what he’d dreamed of when he’d been a boy, when the first rush of testosterone had risen in his blood, and he eyed the young girls around him and imagined.

Of love. Of finding the one.

Of making love to the one with his heart as well as his cock.

Those dreams rose inside him like vaporous ghosts and he nearly cried out in fear. In need.

“Aetos.” Her soft hands ran over his sweating body, instinctively trying to soothe.

He blanked his mind, let his body take control and only opened his eyes when she cried out in passionate release. Even as he found his own, he could not escape her. The beauty of the rose flush on her pearled skin. The cascade of moonlit hair on the pillow. The elegant edge of her shoulders and collarbone.

The glow of love in her violet-wine gaze as she finally opened them.

The love he didn’t want. The love he feared.

The love he returned.

F
amily packed the farmhouse
.

New Year’s Day in Greece was the equivalent to Christmas Day in the States, Natalie had been told. The claim appeared to be true from the pile of wrapped gifts crowding around the tree. The smell of almonds and lemon wafted into the kitchen as the
vasilopita
cake baked. She had been given the great honor of placing the golden coin with St. Basil’s image into the dough before it was slid into the oven. The inclusion made her ache with love.

“You will get it in your slice, Nat,” Rhea had giggled by her side. “After that, you’ll have luck for all of next year.”

She would need more than luck. She would need a miracle to get what she wanted in the new year.

Him.

The sound of his laughter snared her attention as it always did. She turned from observing the dozens of Kourkoulos kids playing on the floor and caught his eye as he glanced over from another round of endless backgammon. His smile gentled as he gazed at her and his eyes turned hot, glowing with the ever-present love.

Or was it merely lust?

She pinned a return smile on her face and turned away. For eight days now she’d slid between horror and hope. She’d spent hours watching him, wondering. As she’d laughed and talked with his family, participated in the Christmas festivities, baked with his grandmother; the whole time, she’d tried to keep herself realistic.

Then he would take her hand and take her to bed.

And she’d tumble right back into pure love once more. As he moved inside her, as he groaned his pleasure in her ear, as he stroked her skin with loving intent—he touched her heart, seared it into his possession.

She was lost. Lost to him.

A shiver ran through her.

They would leave for the States soon. Tomorrow or surely the next day.

The distant fear, a fear she’d put away as soon as she landed in Greece, swept near once more. She had no illusions about the thugs. They would continue to search for her and the money owed to them. As soon as she returned to New York City, they’d be stalking her.

Would Aetos help her? Perhaps she should she confess the awful situation she found herself in.

Yet, he’d said nothing about the future, seemingly satisfied with eating his
giagiá’s
food and teasing his pappoús and having her in his bed. She’d gone along, not wanting to rock this fragile boat of hope she’d built in her heart.

But soon, very soon, reality would crash into this fantasy. The problem was this fantasy had become her only reality. She no longer could deny she’d given everything to him and was at his mercy. Would he believe her story when she confessed? Would he hang on to the bond they’d forged together as they’d laughed and loved? Or would his darker impulses overwhelm his growing trust?

Rubbing her arms with shaking hands, she walked back into the kitchen, away from the laughing kids and men. Into a sea of women.

“Natalie!” His
giagiá
was in her element, bustling around the small room, barking instructions to her willing helpers. “Come, come. It is time.”

“You get to pull the cake out of the oven,” Rhea piped in. “It’s a high honor.”

The cake was golden brown; slivers of almonds twined at the top with the numerals of the New Year. A waft of lemon and sugar filled the kitchen as an exclamation of contentment came from a dozen women.

“It’s beautiful.”

“The biggest.”

“The best one ever.” The old woman smoothed her hand across Nat’s arm before shooing her and her precious package over to the wooden table. “We must let it cool.”

A hoard of small, black-headed grandchildren scampered into the kitchen, running around the women to stare at the cake. The women laughed and patted heads and tapped the children under their chins. A well of emotion surged in Nat’s heart. How she loved this family. This family who had welcomed her with eager delight. Who’d taught her their customs and language. Who’d made her feel a part of a whole instead of all alone.

“
Giagiá
!” One of the youngest kids peeked at the old woman. “Is it time to cut the cake?”

“Not yet.” Old, gnarled fingers lovingly moved through the tuft of black hair. “First we must finish unwrapping the presents.”

A swift kick of nervousness coiled in Nat’s stomach at what lay ahead. She’d done something stupid. She’d known it as she did it. Still, some crazy impulse had pushed and prompted her until she’d taken out her credit card and splurged.

The gift had seemed splendid in the moment.

A hundred times she’d watched him twist his cufflinks while he talked on his cell phone. A dozen times she’d watch the glint of the gold at his wrist has he pounded on his laptop. Granted, he hadn’t worn them since they arrived at the farm, but the cufflinks caught her attention from atop the simple wooden chest of drawers every time she passed.

The lone eagle. The proud arch of the head. The powerful thrust of the wings.

So Aetos. So impossibly beautiful and so alone.

She hadn’t been planning on buying him anything. She had no money, only a credit card. Although it had been six weeks since she’d received any threats, the fear lingered. She didn’t want to be tracked and using the meager funds on her credit card could potentially expose herself. Plus, she hadn’t wanted to show him how much he’d come to mean to her.

Admit it, Nat. This was the real reason. You wanted to play the coward
.

True.

The odds of the Ukrainian mob coming to Greece were slim. The real reason she hadn’t planned on giving him anything of meaning was she’d wanted to hide her heart, her love. Only in bed had she succumbed to him and given everything. Thankfully, she’d managed to swallow the words and hold onto her pride. She’d managed to convince herself she still had some kind of control over this situation. With stoic resolve, she’d planned on giving him what she was giving the rest of his family. A basket of goodies; cookies and candy she’d baked with his
giagiá’s
help.

But as soon as she’d seen the cufflinks winking at her in the small display case in Thívai’s oldest jewelry shop, she’d lost the battle to stay impersonal. To stay safe.

“Wow,” she’d whispered.

The store owner knew a sale when he saw it.

“Ah,” his
giagiá
had murmured when Natalie had joined the other women of the family at the corner café. They were all displaying their presents and lavishing praise on each other’s choices.

“Oh, Natalie.” Doris’s hushed voice had sent a fission of freezing fear down her spine.

“What?” She’d looked wildly at the aunts and nieces and daughters who’d grown silent as his gift was passed around. “What’s wrong with it?”

Six sets of dark eyes had gazed at her with a mixture of tenderness and worry.

“I’ll take it back.” Instinct reared inside turning the fear into panic. She didn’t understand the undercurrent rolling through this group of women, but she did understand this gift she held in her hands was now more than her simple gift of love. “Right away.”

“No.” His
giagiá
had shaken her head, determination filtering through the worry, wiping clean the anxious frown on her forehead. She’d leaned over and patted Nat’s hand. “This is the right gift for him.”

Glancing around at the other female faces, their concern hovering in the air above the group, she hadn’t been able to believe the words. “I don’t think so.”

“It is.” The look in the old woman’s eyes was a fire of firm love. “You must be brave, Natalie. For all of us.”

Brave?

What had
Giagiá
meant? None of the women would say. Even when she badgered them in the two days since she’d bought the present. They only nodded their heads solemnly and gave her hug after hug. She felt as if she’d been given the task of climbing Mt. Olympus and conquering the gods who lived on high. Or one particular god.

Right now, she didn’t feel brave. Not in the least.

However, it was too late.

She’d been filled with an odd sort of reckless fervor as she’d wrapped his present. The impulse to push the limits, to confront whatever the future held, had forced her to walk out of their small bedroom and place the present with the others.

Nat gave herself a fatalistic shrug.

Better to know now. Better to uncover what awful thing she’d done by buying him a simple gift. Better to know what her future held than be left in this agonizing shift between lust and love. Hope and despair.

“Come, come.” His
giagiá
shooed the women and children from the kitchen and into the already overflowing living room. The firelight danced on the olive skin of the men, lit the children’s eyes with twinkling delight, and touched the women’s smiles with a soft glow. The tree, the tree she and Aetos and chosen, stood tall and sturdy in the corner, covered with handmade ornaments and sparkling white lights.

Somewhere, beneath the Christmas tree, lay her gift of love.

She knew it. Suddenly. Some atavistic instinct settled like a lead weight in her gut, telling her the small gift sitting under the tree was going to crush her hopes and tear her to pieces.

A fatal sense of futility washed through her. Whatever happened, happened.

The men grumbled, but dutifully put the board games away as the children excitedly surrounded the tree, scrambling through the presents, sorting and sifting and exclaiming.

Balancing herself on the arm of the sofa, Nat stared at the small, silver-wrapped box sitting like a beacon on top of a large green present. One of the grandchildren’s attention was caught by the sparkle of silver and the small girl rose on her tiptoes to grab the box from its perch. Her dark hair swung in curls as she clasped the gift in her tiny hands and looked at the tag.