11. Tia
I stood at the edge of Thalassía’s small dock, watching the boat grow smaller against the horizon. The decision to come here at dawn had been sudden. After last night’s drama, I couldn’t face Santo’s family over breakfast.
I turned toward the island that was now mine alone—at least until the boat returned for me this evening. Thalassía was beautiful. Her limestone cliffs caught the sun’s rays while waves crashed against the shore. The solitude was exactly what I needed.
“Come on, Zeus,” I said, turning back. “We’ve got work to do. ”
I grabbed the heaviest box first and began the trek to the cottage. The path was steep, winding through scrubby vegetation, and my arms ached by the time I reached the door.
Setting down the box with a thud, I wiped sweat from my brow and headed back down for the second load. Zeus followed dutifully, seemingly enjoying the exercise.
“At least one of us is having fun,” I muttered, picking up my drafting tools and reference books on the second trip. The weight pulled at my shoulders as I climbed again, the morning sun growing stronger with each passing minute.
On the last trip, my breathing was labored. I paused halfway up the path, setting down my burdens to catch my breath. Zeus circled back, staring at me.
“I’m fine,” I assured him, though my legs protested as I continued upward. “Just not used to being a pack mule.”
Back at the cottage, I arranged my workspace at the rustic wooden table near the window, where natural light would be best for drafting. I unpacked methodically.
Zeus settled on the worn rug nearby, his chin resting on his paws as he watched me unpack. The cottage felt eerily quiet with just the two of us. Being the only inhabitants on an entire island created a strange, suspended feeling .
I forced myself to focus on measurements and structural assessments rather than the memory of ignoring Santo when he came in search of me last night.
The confrontation with Kat reminded me why I should stay away from Santo and maintain professional boundaries.
The man’s ex was delusional, and I didn’t want to get caught in the crossfire more than I have.
I had just finished arranging my drafting materials when the first raindrops hit the cottage roof. The patter quickly intensified into a steady drumming as dark clouds rolled in from the sea, transforming the bright morning into premature twilight.
“So much for perfect weather,” I muttered to Zeus, who had settled on the worn rug beside my workspace.
The storm wasn’t in any forecast I’d checked. I moved to close the windows, watching as the previously calm sea transformed into churning whitecaps. Wind drove the rain sideways against the windows.
I returned to my blueprints, determined to make progress despite the interruption. The first cold drop landed directly on my drawn elevation sketch, creating a spreading watermark across the paper.
“What the—” I looked up to see a dark stain forming on the ceiling. Another drop splashed onto my cheek .
I quickly gathered my papers, moving them away from the growing leak. I searched the cottage for something to catch the water, finding a pot in the kitchen cupboard. Its hollow ping created an irregular percussion as water dripped into it.
Zeus watched from his dry corner as I inspected the rest of the ceiling. Thankfully, there appeared to be only one troublesome spot. With my drawings safe and the leak contained, I returned to the table, shifting my chair to a dry section.
“Crisis averted,” I said to Zeus, who responded with a noncommittal huff.
The storm continued outside, but the cottage remained otherwise dry and secure. In the distance, a mechanical whirring sound penetrated the drumming rain.
I paused, pencil hovering over paper, listening to what sounded like a helicopter. Who would be flying in this weather? After a moment, the sound faded, likely just a passing aircraft heading to the mainland.
With a shrug, I returned to my drafting, the rhythmic dripping from the leak becoming almost meditative as I worked.
Zeus suddenly stood, his ears perking up. He moved to the door, pacing back and forth with increasing agitation.
“Need to go out, boy?” I asked, setting my pencil down. His tail wagged in confirmation .
I sighed, bracing myself for the inevitable soaking I’d get opening the door in this downpour. Zeus’s whine grew more insistent.
“Alright, alright,” I said, crossing to the door. “But make it quick.”
I pulled the door open, expecting Zeus to bolt past me into the rain. Instead, he remained perfectly still, tail wagging furiously. Through the downpour, a familiar silhouette emerged.
“You need to stop running from me,” Santo said, wiping water from his eyes. He stepped into the cottage without waiting for an invitation.
I backed up instinctively. “I needed space to work.”
“Zeus!” Santo rubbed his dog’s ears. “Have you been taking care of Tia for me, boy?” His eyes rose to meet mine.
“You’re soaked through,” I said. “You should take that shirt off before you catch pneumonia.” I moved to a small closet and pulled out a worn but clean blanket.
He peeled the clinging fabric away from his skin, revealing the toned, tattooed chest I’d been trying not to think about. I thrust the blanket toward him, keeping my eyes on his face.
“Thanks,” he said, wrapping it around his shoulders. Water still dripped from his blonde curls, tracing paths down his neck and collarbone .
Santo glanced at the pot catching water from the ceiling, then at my scattered drafting materials. “I can see you’ve been busy.”
He moved to stand near the small wooden table. Neither of us spoke. The rain and occasional drip into the pot filled the silence.
“I’m sorry about what happened last night,” he finally said. “With Katalina.”
“Being called a whore in front of a room full of strangers proves we need clear boundaries. I’m your architect, Santo. Nothing more. Let’s keep it that way.”
“You can call yourself my architect all you want, but we both know that’s not the whole truth.” His voice deepened, the words settling low in my belly. “I won’t let Katalina’s jealousy push you away from me.”
“Your history with her is becoming my present problem. I want her out of my life.”
“Then let me deal with her.” His fingers grazed my hip. “She’s lashing out because she knows she’s lost me to you. And I’m not sorry about that.”
My heart thundered in my chest, drowning out even the storm. “What do you want from me?” I asked, hating how vulnerable the question made me feel.
“Everything,” he said simply. “I want everything. ”
Santo pulled me towards him, his lips crashing against mine. I didn’t hold back, my tongue moving against his.
He backed me up against the table, his hands roaming over my body, setting my body aflame. I could feel his hard length pressing against me, and I moaned, my body aching with need.
His lips trailed down to my neck, his teeth grazing my skin, drawing out a soft gasp from deep within me. He attempted to lift me and knew I needed to stop the madness.
“Wait,” I said. “I’m too big for you to carry.”
“Look at me,” he said and waited until our eyes met again. “I race cars at three hundred kilometers per hour. I train six days a week. I can deadlift twice your weight without breaking a sweat.” A hint of his usual cockiness returned as he added, “Trust me, I can handle all of your curves.”
To prove his point, he lifted me in one fluid motion. The ease with which he held me made something loosen in my chest.
“See?” he murmured against my neck, his breath warm on my skin. “Perfect.”
I wrapped my arms around Santo’s neck as he carried me across the small cottage to the twin bed in the corner. He laid me down, his body covering mine as he continued to kiss and caress me .
His fingers traced the edge of my dress, pushing it up slowly, exposing my thighs. I tensed briefly, but his touch was so gentle my concerns melted away.
He kissed me deeply, his tongue exploring my mouth as his fingers slid under the fabric of my underwear, stroking my wetness. My hips lifted involuntarily to meet his touch.
Santo broke the kiss, his lips trailing down to my collarbone, then lower, until they hovered over the neckline of my dress. He tugged the fabric down, exposing my breasts, and I felt a flush of embarrassment mixed with excitement.
His eyes met mine, filled with desire and appreciation. “You’re beautiful, aggelé mou,” he murmured, before lowering his head to take one nipple into his mouth.
I arched my back, a soft cry escaping my lips as he sucked and teased, his tongue circling the sensitive peak. He paid equal attention to my other breast, his fingers continuing to stroke and explore between my legs. The pleasure built and my body wanted more.
His mouth moved lower, kissing every inch of my skin. He hooked his fingers into the waistband of my underwear and pulled them down, leaving me fully exposed to his gaze .
I watched, mesmerized, as he lowered his head, replacing his fingers with his mouth. And oh my God—it was almost too much. I gripped the sheets as he brought me closer and closer to the edge.
When the orgasm hit, a burst of light flashed behind my eyes, my body convulsing with the force of it. I cried out his name, my voice echoing through the cottage, drowned out only by the pounding rain outside.
Santo stood up, his eyes locked on mine as he undid his belt, pushing his jeans down. His penis sprang free, hard and ready. I swallowed hard, my heart racing. He leaned down, capturing my mouth in a deep kiss, his tongue sliding against mine, sharing the taste of my arousal.
I should tell him , I thought briefly, but my voice was locked away, replaced by a deep, throbbing desire. I wanted this. I wanted him. I trusted him. Even if I was scared, I knew he’d take care of me.
He positioned himself at my entrance, his eyes never leaving mine. I felt a pressure, a stretching sensation as he pushed into me. I felt a sharp pain, and I cried out, unable to hide my discomfort.
Santo stilled immediately, his eyes searching mine. “Tia,” he said, his voice filled with concern and surprise. “Is this your first time?”
“Yes,” I admitted softly .
He pulled back, but I stopped him by gripping his shoulders. “No, Santo,” I said, my voice calm despite the tears pricking at the corners of my eyes. “I want this. I want you.”
He looked at me, his expression tender. “I don’t deserve this or you, Tia,” he murmured, brushing a thumb across my cheek.
“That’s not your call to make.” I traced my fingers along his jaw, feeling the slight roughness of stubble. “I’ve spent my whole life playing it safe. Being the responsible one. The practical one. For once, I want to be careless. Please, Santo. I want you to finish what you started.”
He hesitated for a moment, then nodded, leaning down to kiss me softly. “Tell me if it hurts too much,” he whispered against my lips. “We’ll go slow, okay?”
I nodded, wrapping my legs around him, pulling him closer. He pushed into me again, slowly, gently, giving my body time to adjust. The pain was still there, but it was duller now.
He moved carefully, his body trembling with the effort to hold back. I could see the strain on his face, the tension in his shoulders. But he was patient, letting me set the pace, letting me guide him.
A sense of wonder filled me as I witnessed the pleasure building in him. It was a heady sensation, knowing that I was the one doing this to him, that I was the one making him feel this way .
I didn’t come, and I didn’t care. This moment was ours, and I felt powerful in it.
I pulled him closer, wanting to deepen the connection, wanting to feel more of him. He groaned, his body shuddering as he struggled to maintain control.
“Aggelé mou,” he murmured, his voice strained. “You feel so good. Too good.”
I smiled, a sense of feminine power surging through me. I wanted to give him everything, wanted to see him come. I tilted my hips, taking him deeper, urging him to let go.
He looked at me, his eyes filled with desire and concern. “But you... you haven’t...” he stammered.
I silenced him with a kiss, my hands cupping his face. “It’s okay,” I whispered against his lips. “This is enough for me. You being my first... it’s enough.”
He searched my eyes, looking for any sign of doubt or discomfort. Whatever he saw must have reassured him, because he began moving again, his thrusts becoming more urgent, more demanding.
I watched him as he found his release. I held him close, my arms wrapped around him, feeling his heart pound against my chest.
In the aftermath, he held me, his hands soothing as they stroked my back. “Are you sure you’re okay?” he asked .
I nodded with a smile. “Yes.”
He smiled back at me, his expression filled with satisfaction. “You’re incredible, aggelé mou,” he murmured, pulling me closer. “And I promise, next time, it’ll be even better for you.”
“I’ll hold you to that.”