Heiress's Defiance (6 page)

“You are worried about her.”

It surprised her that he noticed. “Yes. She’s so young. And impulsive.”

“The young usually are.”

He said it in such a way that she found herself studying him, wondering what experiences lurked behind those eyes. “I wasn’t.”

He snorted. “No, I can certainly believe that.”

She had to control her voice not to show her annoyance. “What makes you say that?”

“Lucilla
mou
, if you were in the least bit impulsive, we would have had gotten naked together weeks ago.”

Heat slid through her belly. “You’re teasing me.”

“I am. Somewhat.” He picked up the wine he hadn’t finished earlier and took a sip. “But it’s true. You are not impulsive. You think everything through, often too much.”

“I’m not sure I like being analyzed by you.”

He shrugged. “You cannot stop me from analyzing you. Only from saying what I find.” He leaned toward her, as if daring her to put a hand over his mouth. She did not. “And what I find is that you overthink too many things. Make decisions, Lucilla. Implement them. Learn from your mistakes and don’t make the same ones again.”

She grew stiff. “You’re implying that I’m less of a manager than you and I don’t appreciate it one bit.”

“This is not what I said. But if it’s what you take from my words …” He shrugged.

Her insides clenched tight. “I’m thinking I should have let you stand outside and get soaked. Oh, and the lightning thing? I’ve changed my mind again.”

Christos laughed. “If I were anyone else, you wouldn’t feel so insulted. You’re good at what you do. I didn’t say you weren’t. What I said was that you don’t go with your gut as often as you should. Sometimes, that’s all we have to go on.”

She glared at him. “You really annoy me, Christos.”

He slid his fingers up the inside of her arm, heat dancing in their wake. “But I excite you, too.”

Damn him, it was true. He did excite her. Her skin tingled. Her stomach rose and fell like a boat on a wavy sea. She sniffed. “That’s beside the point. You can’t insult me and expect I’ll fall into your arms.”

“Then tell me what it takes and I’ll do that.”

“You’re the expert. Figure it out yourself.”

His eyes sparkled with heat and humor.
“Since you didn’t tell me to go to hell, I’m feeling encouraged.”

She poured more wine into her glass and took a drink. The lights had been out for at least fifteen minutes now. Everything in the apartment was still, but outside it still thundered, the rain sheeting down. She could hear the occasional horns of frustrated drivers blaring in the night.

“Lucilla.” His voice was soft and she turned to look at him, her heart turning over at the intensity of his gaze. “Don’t take everything as an insult. I’m blunt because you’re strong enough to hear it. If you weren’t, I wouldn’t waste my breath on you.”

She felt like she should be insulted, and yet part of her was inordinately pleased. “I went to Oxford, Christos. I’m not an idiot.”

“You aren’t. But I have more experience. You can learn from me. That’s all you need to do. Learn. You’ll get what you want in the end.”

“Have you ever stopped to consider that maybe you could learn something from me?” And just why was she saying this? She wanted him gone, not partnering up with her to run the hotels.

“Of course. But first you have to be willing to work with me.”

“I do work with you.”

His smile made her heart skip. “No, you fight me. About everything.”

“Not everything.”

“Yes, everything. If I want blue decorations for an event, you go with red. If I ask for one menu, you change it to another. If I say I want to host this group, you choose that group.”

She did do that. She’d never really considered that she might do it on purpose. “It’s not out of spite. I do what is best for the hotel at the time.”

He arched an eyebrow. “Do you? Or do you just like to thwart me?”

“I don’t get the impression many people thwart you, Christos.”

“You do. Continually.”

Her heart thumped in her chest. “Well, blind obedience can be so boring.”

“You definitely aren’t boring,
glykia mou.
Far from it.”

“Flattery, Christos,” she chided. “It will get you nowhere.”

He got to his feet and she tilted her head back to look up at him.

“Yes, I am aware. And I think it’s time I go.” He put the wineglass down and picked up his phone from where he’d set it on the island.
“Kalispera, glykia mou.”

She shot to her feet, feeling suddenly bereft at the idea of him leaving her sitting here alone. “It’s still raining, Christos. And the power is out. You can’t leave in this. You won’t get home for hours.”

“And yet I feel I have overstayed my welcome.”

She clenched her hands into fists at her sides. He’d been perfectly pleasant for the most part. She’d been the one who’d had trouble letting go of her animosity—and her fear.

“I’m sorry I’ve been prickly. You just aggravate me so much. But please stay. I have a guest room, and you are welcome to it for as long as you like.”

He took so long to reply that she thought he would refuse. His eyes glittered in the candlelight and she had a sudden urge to slide into his arms and wrap herself around him.

“Very well,” he finally said. “I accept your kind offer.”

L
UCILLA LAY IN
her bed and tried to sleep. It wasn’t working. The house was so still. But that wasn’t the problem. No, the problem was that Christos was in the next room. They’d talked a little more, about mundane things, and then he’d said he would like to turn in. So she’d shown him to the guest room, given him some candles and retreated to her own room.

That was two hours ago now and she just couldn’t fall asleep. She kept thinking about Christos lying so near. He would have stripped down to his underwear. Perhaps he lay on top of the sheets, his body exposed to the night. A dagger of heat stabbed into her when she thought of him almost naked.

Really, it had been too long. Perhaps she needed a trip to the adult toy store. She could buy something with different speeds, keep it wrapped up in the bedside table until needed. She could name it. Not a Greek name. Definitely
not a Greek name. Jack. She would call it Jack, and Jack would ease this ache she felt whenever her body insisted on remembering the way Christos kissed her.

Lucilla groaned and put her pillow over her face. This was ridiculous. Her cheeks were hot just thinking about setting foot inside an adult store. Not that there was anything wrong with it, but she could hardly walk inside one and browse. Maybe online. Yes, online. She could do that….

A noise penetrated her lust-crazed thoughts, instantly sobering her. Had someone said something? She sat up in bed and strained to hear. And then she heard it again, a masculine cry coming from the bedroom next to hers. Alarm prickled her skin. Goose bumps rose along her arms. She got up and whipped on a robe, then grabbed her phone and turned on its light app before going out into the hallway.

Christos cried out again and she hurried over to the door and knocked. The sound stopped abruptly.

“Christos? Is everything all right? Christos!”

The door whipped open a few seconds later. He stood there exactly as she’d known he would be dressed—wearing a pair of dark briefs and nothing else. Lucilla swallowed.
His chest was bare and glistening, as if he’d been working out. His hair was mussed—and his eyes were wild.

He swallowed, as if trying to get control of himself. “I’m fine.”

She hugged herself, suddenly unsure. “I’m sorry to intrude. I just heard … I thought …” She couldn’t finish the sentence. What had she thought? That he was having a bad dream? Clearly.

He raked a hand through his hair. “It happens sometimes. It’s nothing.”

“Do you want to talk?”

His eyebrows lifted. “Talk? No, I don’t want to talk. If you have another offer, I’ll entertain that. But talking? Hell, no.”

“I—I’m sorry I disturbed you.” She backed up a step, intent on turning and going back to her room.

Christos said something in Greek. And then he reached for her, tugged her into his arms. She went willingly, which was a bit of a shock—and not a shock, in a way.

“I’m sorry,” he said hoarsely. “Just let me hold you, yes? That’s what I need right now.”

She put her arms around him. They stood there for a few minutes, her head against his chest, his chin resting on her hair. His heart thundered and she found herself smoothing
her hands over his back, trying to soothe him. She’d raised children and she knew that they often just needed to be held after a nightmare.

She had no idea what could make a man like Christos yell in his sleep, but it must be frightening to him. Dammit, she didn’t want to like him. Not even a little bit. But knowing he was human, that he had fears and frailties, too, could not fail to put a chink in her heart.

“You should go back to bed,” he finally said.

“I wasn’t sleeping, anyway.”

He pushed her away just a little and she tilted her head back to look up at him. What she saw in his gaze made her heart flip. His eyes glittered with heat and need. “Go,
glykia mou
, before I kiss you. Because if I kiss you, I won’t stop there.”

She knew she should step back, walk away. But she couldn’t seem to make her feet move. Not when her body was melting against his, not when there was a white-hot fire burning low in her belly, not when he looked as lost and alone as she so often felt.

“Kiss me, then,” she said, her voice as raspy and hoarse as his had been only a moment ago.

He uttered something in Greek before he brought his mouth down on hers—and the
fire that had been simmering between them exploded in a flash of heat.

It was late and dark, the kind of hour where secrets rose to the surface and desires could no longer be contained. Lucilla gripped him tight, as if she were afraid her body would spin out of control if she weren’t holding on.

His mouth on hers was a revelation. His lips were smooth and firm and his tongue plunged between her lips, demanding a response. She willingly gave it to him and he groaned, his grip on her tightening as their kiss burned out of control.

They’d kissed two other times and both those kisses had scoured through her like a forest fire, leaving her stunned and raw. But
this
kiss. Oh, this one had ten times the power of those. One hundred times the power.

Because she’d never quite felt this level of need for a man before. It was as if, now that she’d mentally surrendered to the moment, her body was playing catch-up on all the weeks of attraction she’d been suppressing.

She wanted to touch him everywhere, wanted to step inside his skin and be a part of him. His hands moved over her and then she was wedged tight against his body, her hips making contact with his hard thighs.

But there was more. His erection sizzled
into her where it jutted insistently against her belly. Lucilla curved her hands around his buttocks and pulled him harder against her.

He made a sound in his throat that sent liquid heat coursing through her system. The robe was too confining, too hot, and she wanted it gone. But she couldn’t take her hands off his body long enough to remove it.

Because touching him was amazing, thrilling. Now that she’d finally let herself go, kicked down the dam standing between her and this flood of sensation, she was overwhelmed. Her body ached and sizzled and hurt and she only wanted more of the same. No matter the consequences, she wanted more.

She wanted him everywhere. Right now.

She could feel the power in his body growing until suddenly he moved, hooking an arm behind her knees and sweeping her up. She didn’t question him when he started walking toward her room.

He was through her door and to her bed in a few strides. And then he deposited her on her feet beside the bed. She clung to him, her arms wrapped around his powerful shoulders. She was taking such a risk, exposing herself to a maelstrom of dark, sensual feelings for
this man she was at war with. But, right now, she didn’t much care.

“You always wear your hair up,” he said, his voice rough as he pulled her hair from the loose bun she’d wound it in for sleep. The elastic fell to the floor as her hair cascaded over her shoulders and Christos plunged his fingers into it. “I like it down.”

“Then I’ll keep wearing it up,” she answered breathlessly, her pulse pounding in her temples, her throat, between her legs. She wanted him to kiss her again, right now, before she could think too hard, but he seemed content to run his hands through her hair.

“Because you like to do exactly the opposite of what I want? If I tell you I prefer you to keep your clothes on, will you take them off?”

A thrill shot through her. “I might.”

His hands fell to her waist and he pulled her close. “Then by all means, remain clothed,
glykia mou.
Do not kiss me. Do not touch me. Do not, under any circumstances, put your mouth anywhere on my body.” His head dipped toward hers and her heart drummed a crazy beat. “Do not kiss me back, Lucilla….”

His mouth took hers then in a hot, wet, deep kiss that curled her toes and made her body sag in his arms. But she kissed him
back. Of course she did. And she wrapped her arms around his neck, arching herself against him.

He shoved her robe from her body, slid his hands beneath the T-shirt she’d worn to sleep in. His hands on her skin were such sweet torture. His fingers glided over her flesh, his thumbs grazing over her nipples as she gasped. And then he jerked her T-shirt up and over her head, his mouth leaving hers for only a moment.

Cool air wafted over her bare skin. Her nipples beaded tight, aching for his touch … and then he touched them again, his thumbs flicking the hard nubs as she made a noise in her throat. Lucilla responded by shoving his briefs down his thighs.

When she curled her hand around him, he groaned. “
Glykia mou
, not too much of that.”

It thrilled her to hear the need in his voice, the desperation, the control pushed almost to the breaking point. A shiver rolled through her as she gripped him tighter and slid her hand up and down his length.

“Lucilla …” His mouth moved down her throat, over her collarbone—and then he took one tight nipple in his mouth and sucked hard while she arched her back and cried out. She
put her hands on his shoulders for balance. If he kept doing that, oh …

“You have the most beautiful breasts, so responsive. So perfect.”

“Christos, please … I can’t …” Every tug of his mouth on her breast sent a sweet spike of pleasure into her sex. Her clitoris throbbed with need. Her body was wet, ready, electric with the pain of wanting.

He slid her panties down her thighs and dropped them on the floor. And then he was pushing her back on the bed, hovering over her, his chest rising and falling as quickly as hers as he held himself above her.

She loved that he seemed to be as affected by this heat between them as she did. His eyes bored into her, stripping her to the bone. There were no secrets here, no plots or schemes or enemies. There was only flesh and blood and heat. Two people who desperately wanted something from each other.

Or did he? Was she just another conquest? Was he managing her, the same as he’d managed her siblings? Was that what this was about?

She couldn’t think that way. Lucilla pushed him over until he was on his back and she was on top. It was dark, but not so dark she couldn’t see the outlines of his body. And of
course he was beautiful. His penis stood tall and proud and she took him in hand again. Then she bent and licked him and he stiffened beneath her touch.

“Definitely don’t do that,” he growled.

“Oh, no, I won’t …”

She took him in her mouth then, enjoyed the way he groaned, the way he gasped her name. She’d never yet had Christos at her mercy, but this was almost too much. He was hers to control so long as she had him in her mouth. Satisfaction flared inside her as her tongue glided over him again and again.

He was beautifully made, exciting, and she wanted more. She wanted to prove her mastery over him suddenly, wanted him to come, his body wild and out of control as he jerked and gasped his pleasure.

But Christos was not so far gone that he couldn’t find the strength of will to drag her up and into his arms. He kissed her, turning her over until he was between her legs.

“Please tell me you are prepared,
glykia mou.
I did not come over here for sex, no matter what you might think when I arrived with dinner.”

“In the drawer,” she said, thankful she kept condoms there even though she hadn’t had a love life in so long it seemed a bit desperate
to do so. Somehow he found them in the dark. She took the packet from him, tearing it and throwing it on the floor as she grabbed him and rolled on the condom. He growled while she smoothed it on—and then she felt him, big and hard and right there—

“Oh, God,” she gasped as he slid inside her, stretching her wide.

Christos stilled. “Second thoughts, Lucilla? Because this isn’t a good time for them.” He dragged in a ragged breath. “And yet I will stop if it’s what you want.”

She tightened her arms around him. “No, don’t stop. It’s just … It’s been a while.”

She hated to admit that, and yet she wasn’t so prideful as to keep it a secret when it could physically hurt her not to tell him the truth.

He kissed her softly. “Then I promise to make it good for you.” His hand slid between their bodies, found the hidden pearl of her sex. Sensation streaked through her as he moved his thumb over the tiny bundle of nerves again and again.

Soon she was arching her hips against him, seeking the next level of pleasure. He took her all the way to the edge—and then let her tumble over. Lucilla’s body splintered apart as she cried out. And still he was deep inside her, hard and unmoving. Waiting.

When the tremors subsided, a thread of panic began to unwind inside her. What was she doing? What was she thinking to be having sex with Christos?
Sex with Christos!

“Lucilla,” he said. “Come back to me. I need you with me.”

She swallowed. “I’m here.”

“Are you? Or are you thinking this is a mistake?”

“I don’t know—”

He moved his hips and fire streaked through her, silencing her as she tried to find her voice again. “How can this be anything but right?” he whispered. “Anything but precisely what was meant to happen from the first moment we met?”

“I don’t know,” she said on a choked whisper. Because, with just that little movement of his body, she wanted him more than ever. She wanted to immolate herself in his fire until there was nothing left but ashes.

“Brace yourself,
glykia mou
, because I intend to prove it to you.”

His mouth captured hers almost savagely—and then he began to move. Soon, his body set up a rhythm she couldn’t ignore, thrusting hard into her, drawing her deeper into this ocean of pleasure that existed between them. He dropped his head to her breasts, sucked
her aching nipples. Lucilla’s body sparked again, until she was on fire, until sensation rioted beneath her skin, dancing on millions of tiny nerve endings. Until she thought she would explode if she didn’t reach the peak soon.

Pleasure dipped and rose and carried her on waves of fire, her core tightening as Christos moved again and again. And then it happened, that moment when every sensation converged inside her, imploding until she could see nothing but white behind her eyes, hear nothing but her heartbeat, feel nothing but the pleasure radiating outward, sparkling and snapping and making her sob his name.