Chapter 3 Deanna
When I opened the door, Aris’s eyes dropped to the dress and took their time coming back up.
Good.
I’d spent an hour on this look. The tangerine dress hugged every curve and ended high on my thighs with two slits and a plunging neckline. The six-inch Swarovski heels made my legs look longer. Worth it.
“Hi,” I said, keeping my smile casual, even though my heart was racing. “Right on time.”
“You are stunning. Absolutely stunning.”
“You clean up well yourself. I like the haircut. Makes you look less intimidating.” I reached up, letting my fingers brush his temple. “Softer.”
He caught my hand and pulled me closer, kissing me with an intensity that made my knees weak. I melted against him, enjoying the solid warmth of him.
When we broke apart, I was breathless. “We might not make it to dinner if you keep kissing me.”
“We should leave now, yes?” he said, though he didn’t release me.
I laughed and grabbed my wrap and purse. “So, where are we going?”
“It is surprise.” He offered his arm, and I slipped my hand into the crook of his elbow.
“I like surprises.”
A limo was waiting on the street below. The driver had the door open before we reached the curb.
“Hold up. You rented a whole limo for our date? Okay, I see you tryna impress me.”
I slid inside and crossed my legs, the dress riding higher on my thighs against the leather seat.
“I own this vehicle.”
I looked at him. “What do you mean you own it?”
“Precisely what I said, Dede.” He smiled, clearly enjoying my reaction. “I have a profitable business.”
“What is it exactly you do?” I asked, keeping my tone casual even as my mind raced through possibilities.
“I am in the automobile industry,” he replied. “For many years. I do well for myself.” He paused, meeting my gaze directly. “Exceptionally well.”
I studied him with renewed interest. The custom suit made more sense now. So did the confidence that bordered on arrogance.
The driver parked near the marina and came around to open the door. Aris stepped out first, then extended his hand.
I took it, emerging from the car and taking in the boats bobbing in their slips. He guided me along the boardwalk toward the docks at the far end, where a gorgeous vessel waited.
“Let me guess.” I stopped walking. “The boat is yours, too.”
“The yacht, I own it,” he confirmed. “This is problem?”
“Not a problem, just... I clearly misjudged the tax bracket we’re operating in here.”
“Are you uncomfortable with displays of wealth?”
“It’s not the wealth itself that makes me cautious. It’s what wealth sometimes expects in return.”
“An understandable concern. But I assure you, I expect nothing beyond what you freely choose to give.”
I held his gaze, searching for bullshit and finding none. “Lead on, Mr. Yacht Owner.”
He guided me onto the gangway. The heat of his palm on my lower back seared through my dress, and I stumbled.
“You should hold me,” he murmured close to my ear, steadying me. “These heels, they were not designed for nautical adventures.”
I turned my face toward his, and our mouths are suddenly inches apart. “Maybe I should take them off.”
“Not just yet, no.”
“Oh? And why’s that?”
His gaze traveled down my body, lingering on my heels. “They complement the dress perfectly.” His voice dropped lower. “And I am enjoying the view far too much.”
A steward appeared as we approached, saying something in Greek. Aris responded in the same language, his voice taking on a more authoritative quality.
“You sound different when you speak Greek,” I observed.
“Different how?” he asked, guiding me forward.
“More... authoritative. There’s a musicality to it, but it sounds powerful.”
Greek is language meant to be commanded, not merely spoken,” he said with a smile. “Perhaps I will teach you few phrases.”
He led me through the main salon, and I tried not to gawk at the furniture, artwork, and panoramic windows reflecting our images against the darkening sea.
On the aft deck, the staff had transformed the space into something out of a romance novel. Candles flickered in hurricane lamps, casting a warm light across white linen. Wine chilled in an ice bucket and covered dishes waited on the sideboard.
But the view—the lights of the coastline curving away to the left, the vast darkness of the open sea to the right, and above, a canopy of stars impossibly bright against the deepening blue—stole my breath.
We settled at the table as night claimed the sky. Aris served me first, revealing grilled octopus glistening with olive oil, delicate dolmades, and sea bass that had been caught just hours earlier.
The wine caught the candlelight as he poured; its pale gold shimmer matched the distant shoreline lights. We talked as easily as we ate and drank, the conversation flowing without awkward pauses.
“You built your marketing agency from nothing?” he asked, looking impressed.
“From less than nothing.” I set down my wine glass.
“I was eight years old when I entered foster care. Bounced around a lot before I was sixteen. I worked night shifts for several years as a nursing assistant and after my divorce began taking psychology classes during the day. People told me I was being unrealistic when I mentioned starting my company. They said I should be grateful for my steady work and health insurance, but I had a daughter watching me. And I’d be damned if I was gone teach her that other people get to decide what she’s capable of. ”
Aris didn’t say anything right away. Just watched me over the rim of his glass. Most people rushed to fill that silence, but he didn’t. I appreciated that.
“Your daughter, she is fortunate to have you.”
I smiled, reaching for my wine again. “She’s got her own dreams now. Working on them this summer, actually.”
We kept talking about my work, about raising children who believed in themselves, and about how damn hard it was to let them go when everything inside you screamed to keep them close. The food disappeared, the candles burned lower, and the night wrapped around us.
When we finished eating, I stood and moved to the railing, taking in the view stretching endlessly before me. “It’s breathtaking,” I said, feeling rather than seeing him approach.
He moved behind me, close enough to feel his heat without him touching me. “Yes,” he agreed. “Breathtaking.”
I leaned back, letting my shoulders brush against his chest. “Are you always this smooth?” I asked, trying to sound amused but hearing the undercurrent of need in my own voice.
His hands spanned my waist completely. “Only when I am properly motivated.”
I turned within his arms, looking up at his face. “And what’s your motivation tonight?”
“To learn every sound you make when you come on my cock.”
I couldn’t stop the sharp inhale at his words, or the moan that followed when he dragged his mouth along my jaw and down the side of my neck. I gripped his shoulders to anchor myself to his solidity.
“I’m not looking for anything serious,” I warned.
“Suits me perfectly.” His teeth grazed my earlobe, and Lord help me, I couldn’t contain another moan.
Aris slid down my zipper with agonizing slowness. The tangerine dress loosened around my shoulders, and he peeled it away, drawing the fabric up until it gathered above my head.
With a final tug, he swept the fabric over my head and let it fall. I stood before him completely naked, except for my heels.
“Theó mou,” he breathed. His eyes traveled down my body, taking in every inch. “You obeyed.”
“I did, and I expect you to make it worth my while.”
He shrugged out of his shirt, then pulled me against him. Skin to skin. I gasped at the contact, enjoying the feel of his hard chest against my softness.
Ink covered every inch of his arms, spiraling from his wrists to his shoulders in blacks and grays. The artwork continued across his chest—an engine deconstructed into its components, pistons, and gears flowing across his skin in a sprawling mechanical masterpiece.
I surged up on my toes, crashing my mouth against his in a greedy kiss. Our lips moved hungrily, tongues tangling with urgent need, teeth nipping as if we were starving for each other.
I groped him shamelessly, tracing the ridges of his abs before dipping lower to palm the bulge straining against his pants. He groaned into my mouth, one hand cupping my ass possessively, while the other kneaded my breast.
“Aris,” I breathed against his mouth.
I pulled back an inch, needing air, but he wouldn’t give it to me. He chased my lips, claiming them again.
Then, his fingers delved between my thighs, finding my clit with unerring accuracy. He circled it slowly at first, then faster, building a rhythm that made my knees weaken. My hips bucked against his hand as sparks shot through me.
He finally abandoned my lips, lowering his head to latch onto my nipple. He sucked it into his mouth, and I arched into him, my fingers digging into his shoulders for support as he licked and teased, alternating between gentle flicks and firm pulls that made my core clench.
All the while, his fingers never relented on my clit, building pressure unbearably fast. “These will be problem for me,” he murmured against my skin before switching to the other breast.
My hands trembled as I worked at his belt, desperate to feel more of him. “I’ll be in Greece until the end of August.”
His fingers stilled. “This gives us what... two months, yes?”
“About that. Maybe less.”
“Then we should not waste time.” He stepped back to strip off the rest of his clothes.
I watched, mesmerized by the reveal of hard muscle and tan skin, the artwork extending down one leg in those same blacks and grays, before he rolled on protection.
“Arms around my neck,” he commanded, and I obeyed. He checked my hold before lifting me and backing me against the cool metal of the rail.
I locked my legs around his waist as he positioned himself. He nudged against me, the crown of his erection parting me before he pushed inside in one deep thrust.
The cry that escaped me echoed across the water. He was thick, stretching me, filling me completely. He paused, giving me a moment to adjust to the fullness, then began to move with deep strokes.
“Yes...” My head fell back, exposing my throat to the night air. “God, yes...”
“Not God.” He punctuated the words with a thrust so deep I saw stars. “Say my name.”
I forced my eyes open, meeting his. “Aris,” then louder as he continued moving inside me, each thrust driving the sound from my throat. “Aris!”
Aris lowered his head, capturing a nipple before drawing it between his teeth. I clenched around him involuntarily.
His hand wrapped around my throat, and my whole body lit up. I hadn’t expected it. Hadn’t known I’d want the weight of his palm against my pulse, the pressure that made every nerve ending sharpen until I felt him everywhere at once.
He applied enough pressure as he guided my upper body back. I hovered over the rail, suspended in his grip while he continued to drive into me without mercy.
My breasts bounced with each powerful thrust, and I could see the hunger in his eyes as he watched, utterly transfixed by their movement. The sounds coming from me grew louder, more desperate, as he angled deeper, hitting my G-spot.
“Aris... I’m close...”
“That is mine. Let me feel it.”
I shattered with a scream that probably carried clear to the mainland, my entire body convulsing around him. The sensation pushed him over too, and he followed with a groan.
Aris released my throat and pulled me upright, crushing me against his chest as the aftershocks rippled through us. His arms banded around me, holding me securely while we both struggled to catch our breath. We stayed locked together, the Mediterranean breeze cooling our sweat-slicked skin.
“Again?” I whispered against his chest.
“Yes.” The single word was almost a growl. He kissed my shoulder, then my neck. “I have two months with you, and I will make every single second count.”