For the Plot (All for Love #1)

Chapter 18

18

Josefine

His words reverberate in my brain.

I can’t believe I found you again .

Neither can I.

The emotions coursing through me are like waves, buffeting me one after another with so much force they threaten to drown me if I don’t act on them.

Fuck it .

The urgency to take Cam, to take what I once had and claim it as mine, is all-consuming. The validity of his statement, coupled with the flames of desire blazing in his eyes, draws me in like a moth to a flame. I’m so captivated I don’t know where to start.

Throwing all caution to the wind, I plunge for his lips. As if he can read my thoughts, he’s ready, mouth open and eager for me. Our teeth clash, but it only takes a moment to find a rhythm, giving and taking, sharing the air between us. With Cam still leaning against the desk, I sink into him, allowing him to support my weight. The growing bulge beneath his shorts only spurs me on and sends a bolt of electricity straight to my core. With my mouth still fused to his, I work the button on his shorts blindly, though I slow our pace, matching it to the speed at which I delicately palm his hardness over his underwear.

He lets out a groan against my lips and throws his head back, giving me the perfect opportunity to sear a path down his throat. I nip and suck, then pause at his Adam’s apple, relishing the way it bobs when he swallows.

He grips my hand over his fully hard cock, signaling me to continue. Pulling back, I give him a wicked grin.

I’ve been with other men since our one-night stand, but none of them has come close to pleasing me like Cam.

Though I don’t want to break our connection, I release my hold on him so I can ease myself to the floor, but just as I bend to my knees, the office door clicks open. Cam jumps up fast, taking refuge in his chair behind his desk. I push myself back against the wall, panting. Two employees step into the room, deep in conversation. They don’t notice us at first, which gives me a moment to gather myself. I feel like a teenager getting caught in the act. Before either employee can even acknowledge us, I hightail it out of the office and into the cool night air.

What was I thinking? My heart pounds against my ribcage and my legs wobble. I’ve spent no more than a couple of hours with that man, and I nearly let my hormones take over again. Though I’m shaking, I quicken my pace, my head down and my stomach rolling, and speed walk toward my hotel room, where I pray my cousin is waiting.

Instead, I turn a corner and run smack into what feels like a brick wall.

“Oh, I’m so sor—” the brick wall says. “Joey?”

“Ezra?” Saying his name sends a wave of embarrassment rushing over me. God, I sounded like an idiot calling him Isaiah earlier. “Sorry, I didn’t see you.”

I take in the large man in front of me. His shirt is wrinkled, and the buttons are done up wrong. “What happened to your shirt?”

He glances down, and when he looks back up, a mix of trepidation and challenge swims in his eyes.

“Where’s Millie?”

He looks over his shoulder, then turns back to me. “She, uh?—”

Before he can form a coherent sentence, his accomplice slips out from behind a door labeled Staff Only , her messy bun looking even messier.

“Amelia Greer!” I stumble forward and shake my head.

“What?” She tries to play it off with a shrug, but her eyes are the size of saucers. “I’m on vacation.”

Millie, with her skin flushed—most definitely not from the Mediterranean sun—saunters over to me just as Cam catches up.

“Joey, there you—” He halts when he sees Millie and Ezra and the state of their disheveled clothing. “What’s going on?” he asks.

I don’t have time for this. I cross my arms in front of me, ready to bolt. I almost let myself get involved with him all over again.

He thinks it’s a sign that we’ve found each other again, and here, of all places.

Even if I believed in signs, I swore off relationships. For most of my life, I’ve watched my mom get wrapped up in one man after another, only to be dumped faster than a contestant on The Bachelor . And because I’m my mother’s daughter, I followed suit, putting all my eggs in a man’s basket, only to find myself cheated on and homeless. Nope. Nope. And more nope.

I had a moment of weakness, that’s all. But I’m good now.

Not bothering to wait for anyone’s response, I spin on my heel, ready to make a hasty exit .

“Wait!” Cam leaps in front of me, blocking my path. “What happened back there? We need to talk.”

“I’m good.” I step around him, but he blocks me again.

With his thumb and index finger, he lifts my chin, forcing me to look at him, and for a second, I forget how to breathe.

“There you guys are!” Nik, our favorite barista-slash-bartender strides over. “Mr. Connelly!” He grabs Cam around the neck. “ éla ! Come.”

“That’s okay, I’m going to call it a night,” I say, holding up a hand.

“ Po po ,” Nik replies. “Nonsense!” He grasps my wrist and tugs me toward the bar, with everyone else following close behind. “The night is just beginning.”

I have no idea what’s happening, but I obey the instructions, nonetheless, and before I know it, he’s set a platter of shot glasses and a carafe of clear liquid on the table in front of us.

“Oh no,” I groan, slumping into one of the chairs.

We were introduced to this Cretan tradition in the taverna earlier today. Raki, also known as lion’s milk, is an alcoholic drink made of twice-distilled grapes. According to our server, it’s supplied at nearly every meal for basically every occasion and is a symbol of friendship and nobility. And according to Google, it’s forty to fifty percent alcohol.

Nik slides a shot glass my way and smiles. “I promise you will like this one. We add local honey.”

I’m not so sure I believe him, but my Google search also told me that turning down the drink can be considered rude, so I slap a smile to my face and raise my glass along with everyone else.

“ Yamas !” We shout the Greek equivalent of Cheers ! then throw back our shots.

“Woo!” I huff, dabbing the corner of my lips.

“Well?” Nik raises his brows, his eyes bright.

“Not bad,” I admit. “The honey really takes the sting away. ”

“Bravo.” He smiles wide. “Stay. I bring you rose-infused raki this time. And orange cake!”

I could leave now, and I probably should. But I can’t walk out on a Greek man who’s bringing me cake. Instead, though I know I’ll regret it in the morning, I pour myself another shot of lion’s milk.