Chapter 25
He collapsed against her, panting. That had been the most intense sexual experience of his life. It wasn’t she who had finally capitulated to him, but rather he who had allowed himself to be snared in her net. To crash against her shores and reach out a hand, a drowning man.
- One Week with the Greek
CALLIE
No, I needed a day to regroup and relax.
The weather was warming up, so I was determined to spend a languid morning reading on the terrace.
No romance novels this time because I didn’t want to imagine acting out those scenes with Dr. Tall, Dark, and Broody.
In fact, I didn’t want to think about him at all.
But, once again, the gods of Lyra had other plans.
No sooner had I sat down with my cup of coffee than I heard the whir of a boat engine.
I peeked over my magazine—the latest edition of Vogue that I’d bought in Rhodes—and there he was, in a form-fitting T-shirt and dark swimming trunks, his hair damp and pushed back from his face, except for one unruly curl that I wanted to tweak.
I pretended to ignore him, but he was as determined as ever.
“I’m trying to read if you hadn’t noticed,” I said finally.
“A Pulitzer Prize–winning article about shoes?” he suggested.
“Always so judgmental.” I placed the magazine on the table, trying to ignore the quickening of my pulse. Dammit, why couldn’t I control my body around him? “What do you want?”
“I’m going over to Orpheus’s Cove. Interested in seeing it?” He lowered his sunglasses and wiggled his eyebrows. Those damn eyebrows. They should’ve been illegal.
“Is this another one of your devious plans? Lure me out to sea so you can have your way with me?” I narrowed my eyes at him. He seemed surprisingly chipper for someone who had gotten bad news last night.
His laugh, rich and warm, wrapped around me. “I thought we could go snorkeling. But if the other idea appeals to you more, I’m fine with a change of plans.”
“Snorkeling?”
“Yeah, ever done it?”
“No.” I had always wanted to.
“Ah, good. I get to be your first”—another eyebrow wiggle—“instructor.”
He held up a plastic snorkel. “Come on, I dare you.”
I took a deep breath, willing myself to be strong and behave. “Okay, but I’m not sleeping with you.”
* * *
“This boat is much nicer than the other one. Less smelly too,” I noted as I settled down into the buttery leather cushions.
The boat reminded me of something you’d see on Lake Como, glassy brown paneling, shiny chrome railings.
It even looked like the seats in the back could be converted to a bed for sunbathing .
. . or other activities that I refused to entertain right now.
“It was my grandfather’s. It’s older than I am,” Nikos explained, muscles flexing as he swung the boat around.
“I bet it would have made it to the meeting on time.” I pursed my lips.
“Of course it would have.” He smiled wickedly, his eyes snagging at my mouth. The air between us crackled with tension.
We didn’t speak as we sped past the jagged cliffs behind Kamini.
This part of the island was inaccessible by foot so I hadn’t discovered yet.
We slowed down when we reached a secluded cove with a tiny pebble beach and an arch-shaped rock at the far end that led to a small grotto.
The water was even clearer here, a brilliant aquamarine.
I could see all the way down to the sea floor and to what looked like the ruins of an old boat.
“World War II,” Nikos said. “Now home to octopuses.”
He dropped anchor then retrieved his equipment underneath the seats—flippers, masks with tubes.
“You can swim, right?” he teased, sliding onto the bench beside me, so close I could smell his citrusy soap. He brushed my hair aside to put the mask on. My breath caught when his warm fingers grazed my neck and gently tipped my head up. “I have to adjust the strap.”
His face was dangerously close to mine. So close that I could make out the different shades of brown in his eyes, the flecks of gold in dark brown of his iris, rimmed in a deeper mahogany. They were layered and complex, like he was, and they reminded me of images of distant galaxies.
I don’t know how long I stared into them, transfixed, but when I felt myself leaning closer, I jerked away and he dropped his hand, waiting for me to test the fit of the mask for myself.
I tried not to gawk at his taut abs and firm pecs when he removed his shirt or the flex of the phoenix tattoo on his side as he pushed himself off the boat and disappeared into the water with a gentle splash.
He surfaced, flicking his dark hair back and smiling at me.
He was clearly in his element. “Come on, the water’s not too cold. ”
“Why do I have the feeling you’re lying to me again?
” I grumbled but obediently slipped my dress off.
Normally, I would have been self-conscious about revealing my body in my red bikini—especially after my conversation with Gaz yesterday—but memories of the way Nikos had worshipped every inch of my flesh made me feel powerful and sexy as his eyes slid over me.
That is, until I slipped the plastic flippers on.
Taking a deep breath and closing my eyes, I pushed myself off the boat.
I always experienced a moment of panic when I jumped in the water, the result of a swimming accident when I was a kid.
But I’d refused to let it control me and learned to swim anyway.
I wasn’t the best swimmer, but I no longer feared the water.
Still, much to my embarrassment, I couldn’t help reaching out for Nikos as I went under and found myself surfacing in his arms, his face inches from mine.
“You okay?” he asked. Tiny waves lapped around us, as our bodies tangled together under the water. He clasped me to him as I caught my breath, holding me securely in his strong arms.
I nodded. “Fine.”
More than fine. I’d never felt so supported, like I could float freely in the circle of his arms. I didn’t want him to let me go, and the realization made me push away. “I don’t know what your definition of warm is, but this isn’t it.”
“It’s warmer in the shallows. Come here, let me adjust your mask.
” Obediently, I swam over to him and let him fiddle with the transparent straps and attach the tube.
He pulled his own on then gestured for me to follow him.
I panicked at first, afraid that water would get in my breathing tube, but Nikos was patient and, little by little, I forgot my fear and got lost in the aquatic world beneath us.
“Have you ever seen an octopus’s garden?” Nikos asked as we swam closer to the grotto.
“You mean like in the song? No.” We dove back down, and he showed me where octopuses had stockpiled shells and old glass bottles. One little creature had squeezed itself into a half-broken jar.
We swam through a school of tiny silver-blue fish and bright red barbounia. In the shallower waters, I spotted a red starfish and a seahorse. The ocean was its own universe and I marveled at each new discovery.
Nikos led me over to the jagged rocks near the grotto and pointed to a patch of bright green seaweed on the shore.
“This is what I wanted to show you,” he said as we stepped onto the beach and picked our way over to the rocks. “ Kritamo . A delicacy of the island.”
“Really?” My curiosity was piqued. We pulled a couple handfuls from the rock, and I stuffed them in my bathing suit top to take them back to the boat, making Nikos laugh. I’d never seen him in such a good mood. It was confusing, considering the news he had gotten yesterday.
By the time we made it back to the boat, I was exhausted yet energized. My fingertips were wrinkled, and I had seaweed dangling out of my bikini top. Not the sexiest look ever, but I didn’t care.
“Here, that can’t be comfortable.” Nikos tossed me a small net, nodding toward the green sprigs decorating my cleavage. “If you need help getting those out . . .”
“I think I can handle it.” I turned my back to him to retrieve the slippery seaweed, and when I turned around, he still had that crooked smile on his face.
“So what was this little outing about?” I took the bottle of water that he handed to me and gulped it down.
“What? Do you think I always have ulterior motives?” He looked legitimately baffled.
“Um, yes?” I laughed. I laid out the strands of seaweed on a towel. “Can these be eaten raw?”
“Sure. You can also steam them. I’ll show you a recipe back at your place.”
“Oh, you’re not coming to my place. You might steal another book.” I peeked at him from under my wet lashes and found him studying me with a kind of rapt intensity that was completely unnerving.
“Fine. I’ll show you at my place.”
“You don’t know when to give up, do you?”
“I never give up.” He winked as he turned on the motor, spinning us back toward Kamini.
* * *
Once inside, Nikos kicked his sandals off and headed straight for his bathroom. “I’m going to take a shower. If you want, you can . . .”
“Join you?” I choked out a laugh, although the idea made my entire body warm. “No, that’s not happening.”
“I was going to say that if you want to go first, there are towels in the hall closet.” He pulled one out and threw it at me. It was soft and smelled like laundry detergent and sunshine.
“No, you go ahead.”
I tried not to concentrate on the sound of the shower, imagining him in there, water running over every glorious plane of his body. Careful, Cal, if you keep it up, you’re not going to make it even a day into your no-sex-with-Nikos resolution.
I distracted myself by going through his fridge, which was always very revealing of someone’s tastes and organizational skills.
He was, of course, impeccable in both. By the time he came out, smelling of that citrusy soap, I’d made a tidy pile of ingredients I wanted to experiment with.
“I know the bread is Maria’s and the wine is Stamatis’s, but who makes that horrifically stinky cheese? ”
“Believe it or not, the monastery. Taste it.”