Chapter 21
MIA
What am I doing with my life? How am I fucking it up so badly?
Ok. Fine. I’m being dramatic. But I’m allowed to be. This is my safe space, and it’s been violated.
By sexy man muscles.
And dirty words.
And he reads my freakin’ articles.
Nothing about this is supposed to be real. He’s my fake boyfriend and that’s where he’s supposed to stay.
But apparently the sight of him in swim trunks does it for me.
Reeeally does it for me.
There’s no addendum to our rules saying dry humping is permissible if we’re horny, but apparently that’s what we do now, given the morning we just spent in the pool.
And now, ironically, I’m on my way to go full Demi Moore in Ghost with my Swayze draped around me fondling clay?
The universe is having a whole ass laugh at my expense. I’m sure of it.
My Swayze?
This Swayze. Jesus. Not mine.
Him.
The guy currently gripping my hand so tight it’s cutting off my circulation, if the pins and needles stabbing my arm are anything to go by.
We’re in a minivan winding down the cliff with the rest of the family laughing and joking around us, but Swayze hasn’t said a single word to me. I’d be worried he was a wax model stand-in if his jaw wasn’t ticking.
It’s probably for the best since I can’t be trusted not to climb him like a tree when he opens his mouth.
The van stops before my mental spiral does, pulling up outside another white-washed stone building overlooking the ocean.
We jump out, and I can finally breathe again. It’s the first time in hours I’ve not wanted to scream, sob, or straddle someone.
That's a freakin’ win, and I’m all about celebrating small victories.
Now, I just need to hope I can sit farther away from Swayze in class so I can break his dangerous sex-driven voodoo curse.
At least I can’t dry hump him here.
Dropping his hand, I walk toward the cliff edge, circling on the spot to take in the view. I love the whole aesthetic here. Despite being Greek Cypriot, I’ve never traveled to Greece and rarely get to go to Cyprus either, but being here makes my heart happy.
I suck in another deep breath, loving the scent of the ocean. My shoulders drop as my locked muscles ease from the tension I’ve been carrying all day.
Not even the sight of the toad jumping out of the van can fuck with me.
Today’s a new day.
I’m a strong, independent woman dammit. If that fucker even opens his mouth to say one word, I’m going to—
Melt in a puddle of goo.
Nope. Not that.
You’re just witnessing my brain melt in real time because my boyfriend just came up and wrapped his arms around my waist, pulling me back into his body.
Goddammit.
Before I can say a single word, a nice old man exits the building in front of us. With wrinkled olive skin, a thick white mustache, and wisps of white hair, he looks like a shorter Greek Einstein, wearing a vest.
“Yeia sas, kalimera, ti kanete?” He beams at us. Naturally, my mom immediately walks up to clasp his hand and chatter away to him in Greek.
“What’d he say?” Swayze murmurs, hot breath tickling my ear and sending shivers down my spine.
I tilt my head back to glance up at him.
Ooof. Solid mistake. Butterflies squirm to life in my tummy, dancing wildly.
His eyes reflect the sun and blue sea back, making them dangerously more potent combined with their striking coloring.
How did I live with this man, fuck him not once but twice, and not feel like this.
What the hell’s happening to me?
He leans forward, planting a kiss on the tip of my nose, and I just—
“Bame!” The old man turns, ushering us all into the building in front of us.
“Shit. He just said hi, how are we basically,” I blurt out, trying to step out from under his arms and walk inside like that strong, independent woman I was just thinking about.
Only he has other ideas, holding me tighter and ushering me in effortlessly like I’m his fanny pack or something.
There goes my personal space.
We’re met by a bubbly older woman who beams over at us, clapping her hands as we all gather inside.
The room is dominated by a circle of seven potter's wheels, each with a short bench sitting behind it. In the corner of the room, a table set up with various bottles of wine and cheese stretches along the wall. We must be splitting the group in half and taking it in turns to sip and sculpt.
“I call dibs on the wine tasting first,” I quietly whisper to Swayze. I could use a little liquid courage before making a total ass of myself fondling clay.
Artist, I’m not.
We all bunch together—luckily the rest of the family are between me and the toad—as the woman walks over to join little Greek Einstein.
“Welcome, welcome” she smiles warmly, her English much better than his. “I am Katerina, and this is my husband, Dimitris. Welcome to our little heaven. Thank you for joining us.”
The man nods, beaming up at his wife like she hung the moon, a wide smile breaking across his craggy features.
How long have they been together?
They look so in love and super affectionate, finding little ways to touch each other.
If only I still believed in finding that for myself one day.
Instead, I side-eye the toad, stiffly holding my cousin’s hand. My body riots in disgust, bile creeping up my throat.
He killed that.
I don’t ever want to let anyone close enough to rip me apart like that again.
I might be single, but at least I don’t think I’m inadequate anymore.
Well, mostly.
What happened to the strong, independent woman you were going to be five seconds ago? You’re in control. We’re not letting him ruin today for you.
Swayze adjusts his arms, loosening his hold slightly before kissing the top of my head.
The woman catches the move and beams over at us.
“You two, you are the ones getting married, yes?”
My brother lets out a sharp laugh, and my mom smacks the back of his head.
Well, fuck.
“No, ma’am. I’m Swayze, and this is my girlfriend, Mia. She’s Niko’s twin sister. He’s the one getting married.”
“Ahhhh, Nicolas, yes, yes. Congratulations, ayapi mou. You two join us here.” She points to the middle potter's wheel in the circle. “Here, we believe all art starts with love. Love of the earth, love of ourselves, love for each other, and our specialty is couples pottery sessions. Nicolas, sit, sit, with your lovely bride between your legs on the bench. Like the movie Ghost. You’ve seen it, yes?”
Nick throws his head back and laughs again, clearly in a party mood already. Bowing with a flourish, he helps Layla straddle the bench behind the wheel before tucking in close behind her.
Well, that’s ridiculous. There’s barely any room for two on that fucking thing!
Oh god, she’s turning her attention back onto us again.
“Swayze, you say? Like in Ghost? Handsome like him too,” She winks, patting his cheek.
Katerina’s got game. I wanna be just like her when I grow up.
I giggle watching Swayze flush adorably. He’s clearly not comfortable being in the spotlight, which is hilarious given he’s one of a group of men who are always the center of attention on a night out at home. He’s never had trouble taking compliments there.
“You two are beautiful together. So in love.” She squeezes my cheek before grabbing me by the hand and pulling us both forward to the wheel beside Nick’s.
Love. HA! If only she knew this is as fake as my cousin’s tits.
“I know I won’t need to tell you two to sit close.” She winks again, before moving on to my parents.
I choke on air, coughing like an idiot until Swayze rummages through my purse to pull out the bottle of water I always carry.
“You okay?” His warm, concerned gaze connects with mine the second I stop wheezing like a dying donkey.
“Yep. Sorry.” I hurriedly sit on the bench, slamming down a little too hard, and send a silent apology to my coochie, smothering the yelp by taking another sip of water.
Of course, Swayze straddles it, all grace and poise considering his ungodly size, and shuffles right up behind me.
No. Personal. Space.
I’m trying really hard to ignore the fact that his dick is now pressed against my butt. It’s not hard—thank god—but it’s a freakin’ weighty reminder of what we were doing less than an hour ago in that pool. I wiggle, trying to give it a little space.
“Mia, stop squirming, you're killing me here,” Swayze groans in my ear, low, so no one else hears. My god, he’s not…
Holy shitballs, he is.
Clearly, I spoke too soon because now my guy’s popping wood.
He curses under his breath and wraps his arms back around me, crushing his dick between us as his back drapes over mine.
Fan-fucking-tastic, I can already tell we’re going to nail this class.
I mean fail.
Not nail.
I’m not thinking about him nailing me.
Jesus fuck.
Please, god, just bring on the wine.
Katerina claps her hands. “Right, class, now that you’re all nice and close…”
She pauses, beaming right at Swayze and me. Because of course she does.
This big idiot becomes the instant teacher’s pet, wrecking panties wherever he goes, whatever the age, whatever the gender.
Naturally.
“We shall knead the clay together. There is a piece in the bucket beside you. Pick it up and put it on the wheel, working it with your hands.”
Ohhh god, here we go. I bend and swipe up a firm wet blob of clay, plopping it on the wheel in front of me.
“Ewww, it feels gross,” I squeak.
Swayze chuckles behind me, his mouth brushing my ear. “Can’t be the worst thing you’ve ever touched. You dated that dickweed.”
He catches me so unaware with that comment, I start giggling hysterically, which sets him off too, so Katerina makes a beeline straight for us.
Clapping her hands, she joins in as if we’ve clued her into our little joke.
“Ti Glykoulia, you two are… how you say? Cute. But don’t forget to work your clay like this.” She grabs my hands and sticks them back onto the squishy mound—snort—before moving Swayze’s on top of mine. “Very good. Now, Swayze, you control the pressure.”
His fingers splay between mine and she presses them down, moving our hands together, which is either weirdly sensual or I’m just horny—which, given my thirsty hellcat pool display earlier, isn't entirely implausible.
“Yes, very, very good. He’s good with his hands, uh, Mia mou?”
Swayze makes a strangled sound behind me, which, let’s be honest, is a freakin’ delight.
“He’s very good with his hands, Katerina.” I grin up at her and Swayze growls low in my ear, while my twin pretends to dry heave in the bucket beside him.
Katerina looks positively gleeful. She’s obviously a little dirty minded… considering she winks over at Dimitris before turning back to us.
These two are serious couple goals. They’re obviously still fucking like they did as teens.
“You can tell a lot from how a man works his hands. Good boy, Swayze. I can see you keep your koukla well satisfied. It’s written all over her face.”
Ha. If only she knew.
This time, Swayze chokes on a laugh, coughing right in my ear, thanks to our tangled clay hands. She circles us, slapping him hard on the back, before plucking a glass of wine out of thin air and holding it to his lips.
“Drink, drink.” He swallows a healthy amount of the wine before she brings it to my lips too, instructing me to do the same.
Trying desperately not to focus on Swayze’s face as my lips close over the exact same spot, I sip some of the fruity flavored wine.
He huffs out a breath as Katerina pulls the glass away, and I watch his eyes drop to my mouth, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallows.
Licking his lips, he brings his fiery gaze back to mine.
For a second, I swear he’s trying to tell me something with those eyes, but in a flash, it’s gone. His thighs tighten around mine, pulsing his still hard cock against my ass, distracting me, making me dizzy with want.
Look away, girl. Now.
Why the hell isn't my neck getting the memo? I’m telling it to turn and face the clay, dammit. The clay our fingers have now tunneled into like we’re digging for buried treasure.
Katerina wanders off, fanning herself with a cloth as she mutters something quickly to Dimitris in Greek. Mine’s a little rusty, but I’m pretty sure she just told her husband that Swayze was trying to impregnate me with his eyes.
“Bro, if you don’t stop eye-fucking my sister, I give zero fucks about slapping you round the head, clay fingers or no,” Nick bites out.
Welp, guess I did hear her right then.
Shifting to tear my eyes away from Swayze’s, I accidentally move too fast and back my ass into his dick, a liiiiiiittle harder than intended.
He mutters a curse, tightening both his arms and thighs around me, presumably to stop me moving again.
“Nailed it,” I snicker, like the ten-year-old I apparently am.
“You’ll pay for that, brat.” He growls, then sinks his teeth into the sensitive flesh between my neck and shoulder, biting down hard enough to send my blood rushing to all the wrong places.
Well, fuck, it was funny when he was sitting here with a boner.
It's not so much now as his bite sends my clit pulsing into freakin’ oblivion.
“Now it’s time to make it wet,” Katerina announces to the class.
One step ahead of you there, lady.