Chapter Nine #2
So when he slowly walked back without taking his eyes off her, sat down on the nearest sofa and patted his thighs with two hard slaps of invitation, she stopped herself from the visibly vulnerable act of swallowing.
She hastened to close the distance, dropped a knee on either side of his thighs, then grasped the top of the seat.
The small win of seeing him swallow instead didn’t last very long when he leaned forward immediately and brought his mouth dangerously close to hers, leaving it right there… tantalisingly just out of reach.
‘If you want me, come and get me,’ he taunted, rough and undaunted.
She withstood the bait…barely. But she countered by arching her back, dragging her naked chest over his and letting him feel the warm peaks of her nipples.
His hands clenched at his side. ‘Fuck,’ he muttered under his breath.
She continued the figure-eight roll, almost losing her rhythm when she felt the power of his arousal between her legs—a little salty, a little musky but all rampant, raw man.
She nibbled along his jaw to his ear, then caught his lobe between her teeth, smiling when a shudder coursed through him.
But then the fine hairs on his chest whispered across her nipples and she was shuddering and jerking in his lap.
Vayle felt her core dampen and prayed he would mistake it for being the result of her dip in the ocean.
But then he inhaled greedily. ‘You smell incredible, eros mou,’ he praised gutturally.
She squeezed her eyes shut, just to gather her fraying composure. ‘Thank you.’
Then she sealed her mouth to his, letting free the moan trapped inside her for an eternity.
She’d barely tasted him before he took control, swiping her mouth open with his tongue and diving in to tangle and conquer hers.
Need drove her to gyrate on top of him, dragging her nipples across his chest to alleviate their ache.
But all it did was build and build the tension and scream at her to quench her thirst. Their kiss turned increasingly frenzied, Nelios biting, laving, coaxing then cursing when it didn’t feel like enough; when every second poured further fuel on the fire.
The urge to throw in the towel arrived like a lightning strike.
Before she could act on it, firm hands grasped her waist and Nelios set her aside with jerky movements.
He shot to his feet, his fingers ploughing through his hair.
When his hands dropped, they clenched and unclenched, then he stalked over to the drinks cabinet and poured a shot of cognac as she hurriedly tugged on her bikini top.
After he downed the drink, he spun round. ‘Enough. We will call it a draw. This time.’
Vayle shook her head, face flaming and trembling with unsatisfied need. ‘There won’t be a next time. I…shouldn’t have done that. It was reckless.’
His eyes darkened. ‘Or it simply proved that you shouldn’t have implemented that no-sex clause and I certainly shouldn’t have accepted it. Not when our chemistry is this volatile. It’ll only lead to other incidents like this, inevitably.’
Hot denial rose, then died on the tip of her tongue.
Because even now the brutal withdrawal her body was going through went beyond shaming her.
It laid bare the truth he’d stated. They were weak when it came to one another.
Games, challenges and denials would get them nowhere.
Looking to shatter his control and meeting resistance while laying herself bare would only lead to turmoil.
He exhaled harshly and her gaze latched onto him, a slave to her need. The imprint of his erection made her stifle a moan.
‘Nelios…’
‘I don’t know about you, but I need a cold shower—right now. The ball remains in your court. But know that, if you find your way to my bed, this time I will not be setting you free any time soon.’
With that mike drop, he walked off, his long strides carrying him away before she’d drawn the shuddering breath which did zip to calm her.
She managed, barely, to throttle her need until it was a manageable bubble lodged deep inside her for the rest of the day.
Whether Nelios’s control was back in place, she couldn’t quite tell.
She felt his heated gaze often, but every time she glanced his way his expression was either shuttered or fixed on their son.
Conversation flowed calmly during dinner and on their return home, but when they said goodnight she wondered, feared, if she’d only made things worse.
It was a relief to be awakened by Angelos for his night-time feed. But she’d only just placed him on her breast when the door to Nelios’s bedroom opened and he walked out.
‘Oh, you’re up. There’s no need for you to be… I mean, I’m okay with…’ She stumbled to a halt, hiding a grimace.
He smiled a crooked smile, then slotted the snazzy little baby monitor into his pocket. The act pulled down his silk pyjama bottoms a little, displaying the chiselled line of muscle that framed his pelvis so gloriously.
Feeling that bubble expand, Vayle dragged her gaze away, concentrating on Angelos, who was already being lulled back into a milk coma.
When they’d first arrived here and she’d seen his nursery, she’d wondered why there were two arm chairs.
Watching Nelios sink into one with every intention of sticking around, she got it.
He shrugged one bare, deliciously muscled shoulder. ‘You have to be up, for obvious reasons. But there’s no reason to do it alone.’
There was a time when she’d called this man a monster. No longer. With each considerate act, he was burrowing into her vulnerable places.
And she felt inclined to…let him. Especially when he continued to watch her with that hungry fascination she suspected he wasn’t fully aware was on display.
He stayed until Angelos had fallen asleep again. Stayed at her side as she placed him in his cot and drew his blanket over him. Stayed to drop a kiss on his son’s head. Then, with a heavy-lidded look, he bade her goodnight and retreated as silently as he’d arrived.
Leaving her staring at his closed door, her heart racing madly.
She felt inclined to…let him.
It might have been seconds, or an hour. But, with a compulsion she couldn’t deny, Vayle found herself standing before his door, her hand shaking as she reached for the handle that might not be locked against her after all.
She squeezed her eyes shut for a second, then opened them.
She turned the handle and nudged open the door open.
He wasn’t asleep but sitting up in bed, as she’d half-suspected he would be. His gaze founds hers immediately, as if he’d been waiting for her.
‘Come to test my peace of mind once more, to drive me out of it, or is it something else?’
She couldn’t speak past her overpowering need so she shook her head.
‘You’ll need to speak the words, Vayle. So there’s no equivocation or misunderstanding.’
Her mouth dried. She couldn’t very well say she wanted to reach his heart through sex; that would be too exposing.
And being here, right now, felt exposing enough.
‘I…’ She paused, her heart hammering loud enough to fill her ears with a thunderous roar.
‘I need you.’ That would have to be enough, she adjudged.
And if that was a glint of disappointment in his eyes, he hid it well by veiling them with his long lashes, tossing back his sheets and ordering her to, ‘Come here, yineka mou.’
She went. Hell, she stumbled. He caught her easily, expertly, and before she could draw another breath flipped her beneath him, pinning her to the bed with his powerful body. Staring down at her with a predatory gaze.
‘You agree that attempting to drive us both to the brink of insanity, only to withdraw, was an exercise that was always going to fail, yes?’
Her nails bit into his shoulders in protest and in irritation that, yet again, he’d been right. ‘Yes! Fine, it was a ridiculous thing to do. Are you happy now?’
‘Not yet. But I’m getting there. Now, spread your legs for your husband. Let me taste you, omorfi mou.’
He devoured her with a confidence-stroking hunger that bordered on frightening, it was so heady. And she let her delight show freely, vocalising, touching and stroking with abandon.
‘Thee mou,’ he muttered. ‘You really throw yourself into your passions, don’t you?’
‘Are you complaining?’
‘Absolutely not.’ He took her hand and dragged it to his groin, his eyes blazing into hers as he wrapped both sets of their fingers around his sizeable girth. ‘Does this feel like a complaint to you, eros mou?’
‘N-no.’
He smiled, looking a little pained, infinitely hot. Until she stroked him. Then a different look etched his face. ‘Fuck!’
‘Yes. Please. I want you.’
Her fervent whisper transformed him. Transported him to a higher plane. Between one heartbeat and the next, he’d tugged on a condom and her flimsy lace and silk was a useless tangle on the floor.
‘I will take it slow next time. Worship you as you deserve. But you will admit you’ve driven me to the brink, wife?’
‘Yes, worship later. Need you…now.’
Her grasping hands reached for him, and she loved it when he leaned down over her, then moved her onto her side. Slotting in behind her, he pulled her hip into his, holding her steady with one hand.
With the other speared into her hair, eyes as rich and dark as the cosmos at night, Nelios surged into her.
His groan synced with her scream, a private, decadent symphony of lust and pleasure never before experienced by her.
And, from the words that fell from his lips, she would wager a great deal that it was unique for him too.
‘Vayle… Vayle… You feel…so good.’
‘Don’t stop. Please don’t stop,’ she begged hoarsely, her fingers scrambling back to clutch him any way she could, ensnare him in this divine space with her.
‘Impossible,’ he growled, his voice barely coherent.
When the hand on her hip moved to circle her waist to trap her harder against him, she felt her throat clog, tears springing to sting her eyes.
She was thankful for the former, because it prevented her from pleading for him never to let her go.
To want her beyond what a piece of paper decreed.
Even beyond what this insane chemistry had thrust upon them.
Instead, she squeezed her eyes shut and surrendered to the majesty of making love with Nelios.
She didn’t even care when he wrecked her by keeping her poised on the edge of climax for an eternity before, with a guttural command to, ‘Open your eyes for me, eros mou. Show me your desire,’ he kept her waiting for another sublime minute before diving with her off the cliff into a sea of pleasure so pure, she knew in her soul it was changing her for ever.
Realigning her very existence in ways she might never recover from.
The days that followed blurred into a golden haze, each moment so exquisitely saturated with bliss it bordered on the surreal.
Their impromptu honeymoon unfolded like a fantasy spun from silk and starlight, each hour with Nelios a heady mix of seduction and serenity that lodged itself deep beneath her skin.
He made her laugh—deep, unguarded laughter that burst free before she could stop it—then kissed her until the world fell away, until fear and caution melted like sugar on her tongue. Until she couldn’t remember what she’d ever needed protecting from.
He was present at each feed of Angelos. And in the mornings, she woke tangled in heat, scent and masculine strength, his arm heavy across her waist, his breath a whisper against her nape. His touch—possessive even in sleep—anchoring her in a reality that felt too good to be true.
And that was the danger, wasn’t it? Because, in those precious moments between night and day, when dreams lingered and reality hadn’t yet sharpened its claws, she let herself imagine that this was real.
That this wasn’t just chemistry or obligation dressed in silk sheets and sun-drenched kisses. That maybe—just maybe—he felt it too.
But always, without fail, reality slid in on quiet feet.
In the way his gaze sometimes drifted, shadowed and unreadable.
In the way his silences occasionally stretched too long, heavy with words he refused to say, more often than not after her conversations with Agnes.
But she told herself that, as much as it hurt to watch him retreat to that fortress with no drawbridge, she wasn’t about to neglect her contact with Agnes to please him.
Unfortunately, the tension was what kept her heart in limbo. The clause they’d so spectacularly broken had been her last defence, the final line between falling and freefall. And she’d leapt, willingly, into his arms.
Yet, as the blissful weeks turned into a month, then closer to two, it was less a soaring through ecstasy and more like plummeting straight towards heartbreak.
Because, as soul-searing as it was, this had never just been about sex—not for her. It was him. The man who held her at night as if she was the only thing tethering him to the earth. The man whose past stood between them like the Great Wall.
So, even as they danced barefoot on moon-washed sands, she held part of herself back. She clung to hope desperately, even as it slipped through her fingers.
Because fairy tales weren’t meant to last.
Were they?