Chapter Twelve #2
Everything he’d ever thought he knew about the world split and exploded as she moved her mouth down his length, struggling at first with the size of him and then growing in confidence—and pleasure—at the way it felt to take him like this.
She moved her hips with wanton need as she lifted and dropped her head until his whole body was flooded with electricity and heat was flooding his balls, threatening to burst from him.
‘Stop,’ he said, barely able to speak, the word rasped from his body.
The hurt in her eyes made him want to reach right across the ocean and slam his fist into her vile ex’s face.
That he could have undermined her sexual confidence so completely was abhorrent.
Far from being frigid, Genevieve was sensual and warm, and the more they were together, the more her confidence grew, so he saw now a woman who, not only sought her pleasure, but delighted in it—in taking and giving.
In the back of his mind, he knew that was because of him, and that he would always be glad to have given that to her.
‘Is it—wrong?’
‘Christo, no, but I am about to come, and I do not want to do so in your mouth.’
She frowned. ‘You don’t?’
He grabbed her under the arms and pulled her up his body, shaking his head when their eyes were level. ‘For your sake, believe me. For your sake.’
‘But I—’
He shook his head once. He didn’t want to overwhelm her, not when she was still learning so much about what she liked.
‘Let me feel you like this,’ he insisted as he held her hips and thrust into her, already spilling a little of his seed, because of how close he’d been. ‘You are heaven on earth, do you know that?’
She dropped her head and kissed him, and said something he didn’t quite catch into his mouth, something whispered and low, that he didn’t ask her to repeat. Perhaps even then, on some level, he’d known things were getting out of hand. But it felt too incredibly good to stop…
She was used to the thundering of her heart, after they’d made love.
Used to the way it felt as though it were going to launch clear out of her chest, because no way could her ribs stand up to that kind of punishment.
But this time, as she lay in his arms, breath rushing from her lungs, body sated—for now—she knew that her heart was racing for another reason.
I love you so much.
The words had just dropped out of her, whispered from her straight into his mouth, pressed against him without her intention—and without his reaction.
The words had been pulled right from the centre of her being, sucked out of her by the truth of her feelings, and they sat in her throat again now, begging to be spoken.
To be spoken again and again, shouted, until he understood that this was not just sex, and it wasn’t going anywhere.
‘Nikos,’ she murmured, glancing up at him, to see his face in profile set in firm lines, a slight frown on his face.
As if he’d heard and was processing? Rejecting? Or was he thinking about something else?
If he had been anything like James, she would have stayed quiet. Fear had been her constant companion, and she’d shrunk herself down so completely, hidden who she was from the man who seemed to live to reject her.
But Nikos was not James, and, if nothing else, he deserved to know that she loved him.
If he chose to walk away from her, and go back to his isolated island, his life of self-imposed misery, then he would.
But at least he’d be going with the knowledge that she loved him—and one day, he might even accept that he was worthy of that love.
He angled his face so their gazes met, and her heart stammered harder. ‘I meant what I said,’ she murmured, reaching up to cup his cheek.
‘And what exactly did you say?’
She swallowed, to see if the words would dislodge, but they refused, so she surrendered to their agency. ‘I love you, so much.’
She felt his response. The tightening of his body, the tensing of his muscles. Even before he shook his head, she knew the rejection was coming. ‘Genevieve—’ His voice sounded disbelieving. ‘Why would you say that?’
She scrambled to sitting, pulling the sheet with her, to cover her breasts.
‘Because I want you to know it,’ she said honestly.
‘I’m not asking you to love me back. I’m not asking you to say that.
But I need you to know that somewhere along the way, I fell in love with you, and I have absolutely no regrets about that.
Because you are good and kind, strong and noble, generous and thoughtful.
I love everything about you, Nikos, except for how hard you are on yourself, but even that is a mark of your goodness. ’
‘Don’t,’ he groaned, pushing out of the bed and striding across the room, before spinning around to face her. ‘Don’t say these things. What did I ask of you, when we began this fake engagement?’
She flinched a little at his reckless use of the word ‘fake’. As if to echo her rejection of the concept, she began to twirl her engagement ring.
‘Am I not allowed to be honest with you?’
He dropped his head forward, staring at the floor. ‘Tell me you love me, if you absolutely must, but don’t ever imply that I deserve it.’ His eyes lifted to hers. ‘Don’t you understand? The more you offer, the more guilt I feel. After what I did to her, I could never deserve you.’
Tears welled in her eyes. ‘She stayed with you,’ Genevieve said. ‘You didn’t force her to do that. You didn’t make her remain married. She wanted your marriage, and she wanted you. You need to accept that.’
‘I will not talk about my marriage, or my wife, with you right now.’
She flinched again. ‘Because you know I’ll make you see the truth, and you can’t handle it.
You can’t handle the fact that the more time you spend with me, the less you hate yourself.
Give me another week and you’ll never want to go back to the island,’ she challenged, eyes meeting his.
‘A week after that and you’ll be ready to admit that you love me, too. ’
He took a step back, a stagger, his face blanching. ‘You don’t know what you’re talking about.’
‘I think I do.’
‘We’ve just met.’
‘So?’
‘So how can you possibly think we are in love, after less than a week?’
‘Do you doubt that I love you?’
‘I think you’re running from trauma, and you ran into my arms. I think I gave you pleasure for the first time in your life, and freedom from your husband. Those are two very seductive, powerful gifts. But gratitude is not tantamount to love. Great sex is not love.’
‘You think I don’t know that?’ She pushed out of the bed then, staring at him with a heart that was weeping. ‘You think I’m saying I love you because you can basically give me an orgasm just by looking at me?’
‘Perhaps.’
She swore softly, under her breath. She hadn’t expected him to return her declaration, but she’d at least expected him to accept it.
‘You’re wrong,’ she said.
‘Or maybe it’s because you spent three years trying to love a complete jackass that your heart just desperately wants to be put to use now.’
She shook her head. ‘Stop.’
His eyes flashed with wildness, and she recognised the cause of it.
The panic he was feeling, because she was getting under his skin.
Not just with her love, but with the things she kept saying about his marriage, showing him that his wife had loved him, regardless of his long hours and her frustrations there.
‘You don’t have to tell me you love me. You don’t have to give me anything you don’t want to.
But at least let me speak what I feel. I spent my entire marriage squashing myself into a ball, metaphorically speaking, hiding how I felt and what I wanted, pretending to be something I never was.
So let me always be honest with you. I love you.
From the bottom of my heart, with every single part of me, I absolutely, unfailingly love and adore you.
I would spend the rest of my life worshipping you, if you’d let me.
’ A tear slid down her cheek. ‘But I also spent my marriage trying to make a man love me, who never had any intention of doing so. I will not make that mistake again. Either love me freely, or let me go.’