Chapter 4
Bianca
Grinding on Niko Karas is akin to a holy experience. Watching bliss wash over his face, noting the desire that fills his irises, witnessing the want that spills from his mouth is nothing short of transformative.
“Fuck, Bianca,” he swears as I drop my palms to the sides of his face and ride him faster. He has one hand on my ass, the other on my breast, but his eyes are fastened right on mine.
He groans as I move over him but then, he flips us. It’s fast and perfectly executed, so well-timed that I don’t realize it until I’m on my back and he’s looming over me. But he doesn’t sever our connection.
Nope, his eyes are still on mine and our bodies are still fused together.
“Give me one more,” he demands, bending my knee as he drives into me. “One more and then it’s my turn.”
“Oh, fuck,” I murmur. I’ve never had a partner be so insistent on my finishing—multiple times—before they allow themselves to reach the same end game. And the realization, the consideration of the moment, is enough to make that goal within reach. “I’m close, Niko.”
“Good, sweetheart. Get there, honey.” He drives into me again. And again. And then, he reaches between us and pinches my clit and I see stars.
I come apart at the seams as waves of pleasure crash over me.
“That’s it,” Niko praises me. “That’s it, Bianca. Take it.”
Once I’ve crested, he increases his pace, working me over.
Sweat beads along his forehead, the tendons in his neck strain, but his blue eyes are deep and expressive, filled with more emotion than I thought possible.
And then, he roars a guttural groan, with my name on his lips.
I swear I nearly come a third time as I watch Niko Karas break apart.
“Bianca,” he cries out as a moment of agony followed by beautiful, sweet relief washes over his expression.
He falls over me, brushing my hair out of my eyes, as he presses his mouth to mine.
His cock twitches inside of me and I practically feel him in my stomach.
He fills me up in ways I’ve never experienced before and it’s almost an out-of-body experience.
My fingers brush his cheeks until I clasp his handsome face in between my palms and kiss him sweetly.
I savor the moment since I know it’s fleeting.
In fact, it’s a relief that it’s fleeting because emotions I keep locked down bubble up inside me.
Niko Karas is more than I expected, more than I can handle.
When he pulls away, tenderness sweeps his expression. He stares at me for a full heartbeat before kissing me gently and rolling to his side. “Shit,” he gasps. “That was…that was fucking amazing.”
I chuckle. “It was.”
We sit in silence for several moments, the sounds of our heavy breathing evening out. Niko clasps my hand and swipes his thumb over the back of my hand.
“Thank you, Bianca. Really.” The sincerity in his voice forces me to roll my head.
Meeting his eyes, I dip my chin. “Thank you, Karas.”
He grins but there’s a flare of sadness in his eyes.
When he blinks, it’s gone and I wonder if I conjured it in my imagination to try to add more weight to this exchange.
Am I really that needy? It’s been years since Christian and I broke up and yet…
something about being with Niko reminds me of the safety, the wholeness, I once felt with the man I made my whole world.
But this is nothing. It’s one weekend. One moment in time.
“I’m going to clean up,” I say, swinging my legs to the side of the bed.
But when I stand, a trickle trails down my inner thigh and I look down as horror races through me.
My heart drums, pushing up into my throat and clogging it.
Shit. My fingers tremor as I dash my hand over my thigh to wipe away the wetness.
It’s sticky on my skin, stretching between my fingers when I spread them. “Niko.” I spin around.
He’s sitting up in bed, panic etched in his expression as he frantically pats the wet patches on my bedsheets. His eyebrows are drawn over his blue eyes, as if in confusion. Shock. His neck snaps up. “Bianca. Fuck. I’m so sorry. The condom…”
“Broke.”
“Yeah,” he breathes.
“Fuck,” I swear, moving to drag my hand over my face before I remember my skin is coated in his cum. I fist my hand and work a swallow. Think! “Okay,” I say, half to myself. “I’m sure it’s fine. I just finished my period a few days ago so…”
Niko stares at me in confusion.
“We should be fine,” I explain. “I’m not ovulating. And I’ll take Plan B as a backup.”
Relief crosses his face and it’s so palpable, I taste it like a sour drop on my tongue.
“Okay,” he says. “Good. That’s good.” He points to my bedroom door. “I can run to the pharmacy and grab—”
I shake my head. “It’s fine. I’ll handle it.
” I move toward the bathroom. My legs feel shaky, like my knees could buckle.
I close the door behind me and rest my back against it, sliding to the floor.
“Fuck,” I murmur to the empty space. Sucking in deep breaths, I wait for my heart rate to settle.
“It’s fine. You’re fine.” I know I am. I just had my period and my cycle is regular.
There’s no cause for concern unless…fuck, now I have to ask Niko about STIs.
Ew. Pissed off at myself for being so fucking careless, I stand and turn on the shower, twisting the faucet until the water is scalding.
Then, I wash thoroughly, trying to cleanse myself from a big fucking mistake.
What the hell was I thinking? Getting drunk and then sleeping with a futbolista? URBN Move’s newest athletic ambassador. A guy moving to another country next week. A younger guy. The Greek God of Goals probably has notches on his bedpost. Doesn’t he still live with his parents?
My mind spins with all the reasons I shouldn’t have indulged in sinful sex with Niko Karas but… argh! It was so, so fucking good. He was spectacular. And I’m a grown woman. It was consensual. We both wanted what happened.
I’m not pregnant. The chances are so slim and up until last month, I was still on birth control. I only got off because the mood swings were so damn erratic and I haven’t been having a lot of sex. The chemicals are probably still in my system. But I’ll take Plan B as a precaution.
It’s fine. Everything is fine.
Shutting off the water, I step out of the shower and wrap myself in a fluffy towel. I suck in a deep breath and swipe my hand over the foggy mirror.
Staring at my reflection, I exhale.
“It’s fine. This didn’t mean anything. Nothing is going to happen,” I tell myself.
Then, I brush my teeth, moisturize my skin, and run a comb through my hair, pulling it back into a bun. I shrug on a silky robe and pull open the bathroom door.
“Shit!” My hand lifts to my chest as I shuffle back half a step.
Niko casually leans against the doorframe. How long has he been standing there, waiting? Ten seconds? Ten minutes?
I shuffle back. “Hi,” I mutter.
“Hey,” he whispers, reaching for my hand.
“What are you doing?” I ask, trying to shake off his touch. “I didn’t think you’d still be here.”
He winces and tilts his head. His gaze bores into mine. Serious and…sympathetic. “I’m trying to apologize.”
“For what?”
“My reaction. I…freaked out. I’m sorry, Bianca. No matter what happens—”
“Nothing is going to happen. You’re good. We’re good. You don’t have an STD or anything, right?”
“God, no,” he barks out, shaking his head.
“Me neither. So, we’re…good,” I finish lamely, gesturing between us. “There’s nothing to discuss.”
He bites the corner of his mouth. “You sure?”
“Positive.” I shut him down, hating how his sincerity stirs up feelings I usually avoid. He shows me his concern, his care, the way Christian did. Once. A long time ago. Until…he didn’t. I shake my head, focusing on Niko. “It’s just forty-eight hours, remember?”
He bends slightly, dipping down. His gaze is intense as he searches my expression.
“Karas,” I sigh, shaking my head.
He nods, his eyes hardening slightly. “I know. Forty-eight hours.”
That night, Niko falls asleep beside me. I curl into him and like the way he wraps his arm around my frame, hugging me closer, even in slumber. I usually hate spending the night with men after we’ve casually fucked, but I don’t want Niko to leave. Not yet. Not when our time together is so short.
The following morning, we go out for pancakes and hot coffee.
We trade stories from our childhoods. I tell him about the summers I spent at my family’s country house in Tuscany.
He shares tales about his summers, visiting his grandparents on the beach in Chios.
I offer more about my career goals and he admits some of his fears about playing overseas. We laugh and share and joke.
And when he takes me to bed for a languid afternoon, my worries from the night before are forgotten.
Instead, I lose myself in the moment with Niko.
Between hot kisses and exploring hands, our chemistry is undeniable and I revel in it.
We come together several more times before I kiss him goodbye for good.
“Good luck in Germany,” I say.
“Will you come to any of my games?”
“If you’re lucky.”
He chuckles. “Goodbye, Bianca. Be good.”
I snort.
Niko smiles.
“Save travels, Niko.”
“You too, Honeybee.”
“Honeybee?”
He gives me a devilish wink. “You taste like honey. And I’ve heard more than one person call you B.”
“You can call me B. Everyone does.”
“I’m not everyone.” He waves casually before ducking into a cab.
I wait, standing on the street corner where he first kissed me until the headlights of his taxi turn a corner.
Then, I exhale, straighten my shoulders, and turn back to my apartment.
Honeybee. Forty-eight hours and he gave me a fucking nickname.
What’s worse? Part of me likes it.
Stop. It was one weekend and now, it’s over. Move on.
It’s time to pack for my trip to Italy. Time to prepare for spending a week with my family, in my birthplace, surrounded by beautiful vineyards, delicious food, and couples who are truly in love.
Even if that will never happen for me.