Chapter Two #2
And he was kissing her as if he felt the same, and she jerked forward, her body no longer her own.
She couldn’t get enough of him, and she was almost climbing over his body, choking on a noise that rose from inside of her, losing herself in the fluttering heat as she contracted around him, and then he was moving too, urgently with a hint of impatience as if he had been holding himself in check not just for minutes but from when they’d met in the street.
His breath hitched and his hands splayed against her bottom, and he arched against her in a way that had her nearly sliding out of his arms, and then he made a sound that tipped her over the edge, and her pleasure broke her apart and she shattered around him, again and again and again.
* * *
Ares woke at exactly five fifteen.
It hadn’t always been that way, but since the accident that had killed his parents, he woke without fail at the same time every morning.
At first, he had assumed it was a pattern that would shift with time, but when it hadn’t, he’d seen a sleep therapist and learned that it wasn’t just the brain that held memories.
Trauma and shock could be absorbed into the fascia of the body, and basically his body was replaying that morning over and over, starting from when Iona, the Konstantinou’s housekeeper, shook him awake in the darkness to tell him that the police were downstairs.
Of course, it was about more than just reliving the trauma. There was always a moment or two when he could pretend to himself that he could somehow change what happened. Or maybe do a better job of breaking the news to his grandfather and Ariana.
But on this occasion, it wasn’t the past waking him but his phone, quivering in the darkness. His stomach folding in on itself, he grabbed it from beside the bed and stared down at the illuminated screen. It was a message from Ariana.
Guess what? I have a blue aura! Which means I’m powerful, peaceful and perceptive.
The message was followed by a couple of emojis. A face surrounded by hearts, which he understood, and a fire, which he didn’t.
And now she was typing again.
I really love him, Ares. And I know you think that I’m too young and that he isn’t The One, but he is.
Another emoji, this time of some praying hands.
His jaw tightened. Ari was young, too young to marry some chancer with puppy-dog eyes who carved driftwood for a living. But he needed her to stay at the spa while he got this prenup finalised, and so instead of saying what he really thought, he typed back
I know how you feel. But the whole point of you going to the spa was for me to deal with the boring bits while you unwind with Helena. So just try and chill. We’ll speak tomorrow.
He hesitated, then added an emoji of a person in the lotus position.
Holding his breath, he watched the three dots dance in a bubble.
Ari was his polar opposite. Mercurial where he was fixed.
A shooting star bisecting the night sky, trailing light and laughter in her wake.
Telling her that her parents were dead was the hardest thing he had ever done.
To have made that light leave her eyes was not something he’d ever forget, and he’d sworn he would do everything in his power to protect her.
Even if that meant playing with the facts a little and letting Ari think he was on her side.
His phone vibrated again. Another message.
My bad! I forgot I’m seven hours behind you here. ? Go back to sleep. I’ll call later. Love you.
Ares switched off his phone. Go back to sleep. Ari made it sound so simple. And it was for her, because he hadn’t woken her that morning. He had waited, wanting to let her sleep because while she slept, she still had her parents.
At least he had given her that.
Putting his phone down, he breathed out softly.
At this point, normally, he rolled over and switched on the light and then headed straight to the bathroom. Now, though, he stayed where he was: for once he didn’t want to move. Moving would break the spell, and it would mean uncurling his body from the woman lying next to him.
Willa.
There was enough light in the room that he could see the outline of her hip, and it was impossible not to let his hand caress that curve. He felt his cock harden, and again it was impossible not to press into the soft cushion of her bottom.
Wake up, he thought, and he stared down at the small oval face, willing her eyelashes to flutter open and her eyes to find his in the darkness as they had done multiple times in the night. But Willa stayed sleeping, and he couldn’t bring himself to rouse her.
But he would have to move because he needed a glass of water.
Or maybe it was lust presenting as thirst. Either way, he needed to move. Unpeeling his arm from across her body, he edged backwards and then rolled smoothly out of bed. He moved slowly, cautiously across the room.
‘Skatá.’
He swore as he trod on something, grabbing at the back of a chair as he lost his balance. There was a soft thump as something hit the carpet and he tensed, his gaze moving back instinctively towards the bed and the sleeping figure.
Willa shifted noiselessly, her arm flinging across the pillow, and he held his breath until he heard her soft, regular breathing.
Damn it. Reaching down, he massaged his foot, feeling in the darkness for what he’d trodden on. It was his belt, still looped through his trousers. Normally, he folded his clothes carefully, but nothing about last night had been habitual.
Everything had been frenzied, urgent, insistent, even when they’d made it back to her bedroom.
It had never been like that with anyone before, and he still didn’t know why it felt that way with Willa, just that it had.
There was a need there that pulled him under like a rip tide.
It was impossible to fight. He hadn’t wanted to fight it.
And surrendering felt so good. So right. She fitted against him so smoothly, soft and yielding like petals curving over a stamen. Maybe he would ask her to have breakfast with him. Or maybe they could just stay here in her room and have breakfast in bed. Or stay and skip breakfast altogether.
Something flickered at the margins of his vision, and he crouched, leaning forward in the darkness, his gaze dragging down irresistibly. And then his pulse juddered to a halt.
His fingers trembled as they curled around the thin, gold chain. But it was the ring hanging from the chain that had turned his heart to ice.
Three diamonds jostling for supremacy on a slim gold band. Sharp-edged, glittering with a brilliance unmatched in nature, they seemed to light up the room, and smother the lightness in his chest. On the inside of the ring, he could just make out some words. Just getting started.
It must have dropped out of her bag when he knocked it off the chair.
He swallowed with difficulty because there was no mistaking what it was. It was an engagement ring.
It was also a betrayal of trust. He had been here before.
His heart jerked heavily against his ribs, and mechanically he picked up her bag, dropped the chain inside and hung the bag back on the chair. His shock was matched—no, swamped—by his anger, and he breathed in sharply, trying to push back against the choking swirl of adrenaline, striving for calm.
But how could he be calm?
He straightened up, the ache in his chest swelling like a wave. A better question would be how he could have been so stupid? Again? How could he have let himself be gulled like that? Again.
His gaze pulled towards the sleeping woman.
He was such an idiot, letting vanity and lust blind him to the truth.
He felt a hot rush of shame burn his face because the truth was that her hunger had flattered him into thinking she wanted him, and that had fed his desire.
But it was the thrill of the illicit and the secrecy of an affair that had caused that feverish light in her eyes.
A ripple of nausea cramped his stomach as he remembered that day six years ago when he’d let himself into Zoe’s apartment, the apartment she had insisted on keeping despite staying over at his most nights.
It was for her parents’ benefit, or that’s what she’d said at the time, but he knew now that she’d needed a place to conduct her affair.
It was the ring that had stopped him in his tracks.
He had seen it from the doorway, sitting on the top of her dressing table, glinting in the sunlight like a lighthouse warning of hidden rocks.
But he was so trusting, so naive that it wasn’t until he saw her body moving beneath her lover, that he understood what he was seeing.
And now it was happening again.
For a moment, the anger reared up inside him, blunt-edged and savage, and he wanted to stride over to the bed and wake Willa and demand answers, an apology, an explanation. But he hadn’t wanted to hear Zoe’s lies, and he didn’t want to hear Willa’s.
Instead, he dressed quickly and silently and without so much as a glance at the bed, he let himself out of the room and strode down the hallway to the lift.
* * *
‘How far away are we now?’
Leaning forward, Willa watched the cab driver’s eyes flick to the rearview mirror.
‘Six minutes, tops.’ He paused. ‘So what did you do?’
‘Excuse me?’
‘Why do you need a lawyer?’ He grinned. ‘Fetter Lane. That’s where all the lawyers are.’
She shrugged. ‘Oh, I robbed a bank.’
He raised an eyebrow. ‘Don’t they have banks in America?’
‘I’ve robbed them all.’
He laughed then, and after a moment Willa smiled.
Her best smile. Not the glacial, keep-your-distance smile she had perfected as a child.
A smile designed to combat the curiosity that most people felt on meeting the eldest of the four legendary Hamilton girls, the one with the tragic back story.
The same smile that had earned her the reputation of being stuck-up and entitled.