CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER NINE
Rafe
I GLANCE OUT the window of my limo as it pulls into the circle drive of the villa. Yes, I’m hoping for a glimpse of my wife. It’s been two days since our rooftop dinner. Two days since what I referred to as Tessa’s first lesson, one that left me clinging to the last vestiges of my self-control.
The morning and afternoon after our dinner, it was understandable that I didn’t even glimpse my wife. I had plenty of things to focus on, worked to accomplish, and I knew the same was true for her, even if I didn’t agree with her methods or how she was conducting her business. But that night, she had sent word through James that she would not be joining me for dinner, pleading exhaustion.
Fine. I could accept that. Except last night was a repeat of the same. When I failed to see her this morning before I left for a meeting in town, I concluded that my wife was avoiding me.
Like so many things with Tessa, it shouldn’t provoke me. But it does.
She had seemed more than satisfied by our encounter on the rooftop. Unfortunately, it had left me wanting, too, craving her as I had never craved another woman.
James appeared. “Good afternoon, sir,” he said with a slight bow.
“Good afternoon, James. Is Mrs. Drakos in?”
“Yes, sir. She’s in the gym.”
I take the stairs down to the lower level. A few empty rooms occupy the space down here, including the state-of-the-art gym that Lucifer had installed but never used. If I recall correctly, it was for one of my father’s numerous girlfriends who imagined herself to be the next social media darling of the fitness world. A short-lived notion, especially after she chose to pursue a much younger millionaire over my father who was nearly three times her age.
I walk by the wall of glass that separates the hall from the gym, look up, then stop. Tessa is facing away from me, her legs straddling a weight bench as she slowly but steadily lifts two dumbbells overhead. She’s wearing nothing but a red sports bra and black shorts molded to the curves of her backside and thighs. As I watch, entranced, she reaches the peak of the lift, holds the dumbbells aloft. The muscles in her back quiver but hold steady. Then, just as slowly, she lowers them back down.
Another glimpse of the woman my wife has become when she had the freedom to spread her wings.
I enter the gym, calling out a soft greeting so as not to startle her. Tessa glances over her shoulder, giving me a cautious smile.
“Hello.”
“Hello.” I glance around the gym, taking in the high-end rowing machine, the rack of free weights and the mirrors lining two of the walls. “I’m glad someone is finally utilizing the space.”
“I’m supposed to be working out several times a week, if not almost every day.” She slowly puts her dumbbells on the floor. “It’s been great having this here.”
She’s distant. More so than she was when she came up and saw that romantic tabletop set for two the other night. My attempt at an olive branch. As angry as I was with her for pushing our first night here in Corfu, I overreacted. Offering her dinner had been a way to smooth things over between us, to get us back on track. My suggestion of completing her first lesson had been spur of the moment, driven as much by desire to taste her again as to advance our arrangement. I hadn’t expected her to withdraw afterward.
“If you ever need a workout partner, let me know. I’m usually up by four.”
She smiles as she shakes her head. “It is my fervent hope that one day, Rafe, you will simply do something because you want to, not because you have to.”
I don’t know how to respond to that, so I focus on something I can do. A small refrigerator hums in the corner, fully stocked with bottled water. I grab one and hold it up. At her nod, I walk over and hand it to her. My fingers brush hers. The heat of her skin is noticeable after grasping the cold bottle. A spark arcs between us. Her gaze snaps up to mine as she lifts the bottle to her lips.
Théos , the simple act of her drinking from a bottle makes me hard. A bead of sweat slides down her chest, disappearing between her breasts. The need to taste her is a hunger I’ve never experienced before.
She sets the bottle down and then looks up at me with her caramel-colored eyes. Her gaze drifts down to my growing hardness. My blood heats as her lips part and she sucks in a shuddering breath.
When she looks back up at me, the lust in her eyes is tinged with an endearing shyness. One that makes me pause despite the strength of my own desire pumping through me. I want her. I want her so bad it hurts.
But I can’t ignore the dark voice whispering in my head. The one that whispers Tessa deserves far better than a man like me.
I barely bite back a groan as she sinks her teeth into her lower lip.
“I think now would be a good time for lesson number two.”
All rational thoughts fly out of my head. I walk to a point just behind her and straddle the bench, easing myself down until I’m just behind her. My hand settles on her stomach. The sound of her inhaling, coupled with the heat of her skin searing my palm, sears itself into my brain. I pull her back against me, press my hardness into the curves of her backside. When she pushes against my erection, I have to steel myself against the urge to just take her right then and there.
I could have taken her up on her offer in Paris. Taken her back to her apartment, introduced her to sex in that one night, and then come back to Greece. My inheritance secure and no further dealings with the woman who would soon be my ex-wife.
Except even just the thought of doing so felt…wrong. Tessa deserves more. I can’t give her what she needs when it comes to marriage. But with this, I can take things a step further. Push my boundaries just enough to give her an experience she’ll never forget.
Even when she moves on with her life. Another man.
I grasp her chin with my other hand and turn her head so that I can capture her lips with mine. In this moment, she’s mine. Mine and mine alone. No one else has touched her like this. Has made her shiver or moan. Has made her arch against them.
She’s mine.
I know it’s just the heat of the moment, the animalistic desire that surfaces any time I think of her being untouched. Still, I temper my approach just enough so that I don’t slide too deep.
I lightly caress her bare stomach, my fingers inching higher until they’re just beneath the band of her sports bra. I wait for a moment, give her space to tell me no.
Then continue higher when she murmurs her discontent at my lack of progress.
I slide my fingers beneath the material, feel my body tense as the weight of one bare breast brushes my skin. A shudder passes through me. I break our kiss long enough to grab the band of her bra and pull the material up and over her head.
Leaving her topless in front of me.
Our eyes meet in the mirror. She’s so damned beautiful it hurts. Eyes wide, lips parted and swollen. Firm, supple breasts bare to my gaze. Long strands of her honey-blond hair slipping from her ponytail, giving her a wild, untamed look as uncertainty flickers over her face.
I watch us in the mirror as my hands come around and gently cup her breasts. The nervousness disappears as her head falls back against my shoulder and she moans, leaning into my touch. I lightly drag my thumbs across her dark nipples. Nearly lose my control as they harden into peaks beneath my gentle strokes.
“Rafe,” she moans, pushing her breasts into my hands as she presses her hips back against my groin.
I band one arm just below her breasts and give into temptation, letting my other hand drift down to her waist. I tease a finger along the waistband of her shorts. She freezes, her breath coming fast and short as she watches me, her eyes fixated on my hand as I slide down her stomach. My fingers graze lace.
And then there’s nothing but her. Hot, wet silk against my skin as she shudders in my arms and moans my name. I tease her with light caresses and gentle touches. Savor each and every noise she makes, smiling as she tries to press harder against my hand.
I drag it out as long as I can. Until the torture becomes too much for both of us.
I lean back, keeping her pressed against me. God, she spreads her legs for me with such trusting innocence it nearly undoes me. Doubt stabs through the haze of my lust. What right do I have to touch her? To take her like this when I can offer her nothing but pleasure? It’s never mattered before.
But it matters with her.
“Rafe?”
I shove my uncertainties aside. “Tell me if it hurts.”
She nods, slowly but without hesitation. The trust she places in me shakes me, heightens my senses as I slide one finger inside her. Her breath rushes out as her body clenches down on me. It only takes a few strokes before the thrust of her hips becomes faster, more frenetic.
“Rafe…I…”
“Just let go.” I kiss her neck, her cheek, graze my teeth across the shell of her ear. “Let go, Tessa.”
She listens. A moment later she peaks, coming apart in my arms.
Her eyes drift shut as she sags against me. I stare at our reflection in the mirror. Tessa, the woman I once thought of as a haunted shadow, lying half naked in my arms with a smile of contentment on her face. Me, sitting on a weight bench holding my wife like I never want to let her go.
Except I’ll have to. I’ll have to release her to find her own happiness in the world. With someone else.
My arm tightens around her waist. I need to take a step back from this, from our so-called “lessons.” Regain my equilibrium and remind myself that while there’s a certain level of affection to be expected, I can’t be courting disaster by getting emotionally involved with Tessa.
Tomorrow , I tell myself as I give in to the urge to press a kiss to her hair. Tomorrow I’ll step back. For both our sakes.
But right now, I’m going to savor the unexpected pleasure of holding my wife.