Seduction in the Sun: Adult Romance Box Set (9 Sizzling Tales with BBW, Billionaires, Bad Boys, and Alpha Males)

by Hawkeye, Lauren

  Still, I pound on his back, demanding he put me down.

  “Don’t worry. I’ll put you down.”

  “No!” I realize too late what he’s going to do.

  He walks slowly down the steps of the hot pool until he’s standing submerged to his waist. I lift my legs, trying to avoid the hot water.

  “Don’t worry. It’s easier the second time.”

  I scramble to stay on his shoulder but the bastard only has to bend his knees and I have no choice but to slide off him into the blistering thermal springs.

  Strangely, it’s doesn’t seem as hot this time. He pulls me against him for an equally blistering kiss and then we hurry out of the pool and head back out to the sea.

  We walk side by side into the waves until we’re surrounded by cool, salty water.

  Nicolai pulls me against him and there’s a wonderful contrast between the cool water of the sea and his scorching hot body. He kisses me softly. “Five times is best.”

  “Five times is best for what?” I ask, wrapping my arms around his neck.

  His hand reaches between us. His hot fingers demand entrance between my thighs and plunge into the heat of my core. “In and out,” his fingers mimic his words. “Five times for health.”

  “Ah,” I say with a sigh as I reach for him beneath the water too. Yes, his erection is certainly healthy. He must know what he’s talking about.

  He groans into my mouth as I slide my hand along his length. “God, I want you.”

  It may not be the smartest thing to do—given our lack of prophylactics—but I wrap my legs around his waist so that his smoking hot cock is nestled against my smoking hot cleft.

  He grinds his pelvis against me, sighing my name over and over as he nuzzles my ear. He supports my ass with one hand and grasps my hair with the other, forcibly tilting my head so he can kiss me.

  “If I do this,” he whispers, rotating his pelvis a little so that the head of his cock is pressed against my clit, “I am the closest I’ve ever been to making love.” He takes a deep breath. “And, if I do this...”

  He lifts me up and...Oh God! The head of his cock is at my entrance. All he has to do is lower me and he will slide inside. Deep inside.

  Oh please!

  He stares into my eyes and I know from his fevered look that he’s going to do it.

  My pussy clenches in anticipation of penetration but the sound of shouting from the beach brings me back to reality. A matronly Greek woman is standing at the water’s edge with her hands on her hips and our bundle of clothes dumped at her feet. She is shouting at us in rapid Greek, waving her hands in the air, gesturing at the bath and then back at us.

  Nicolai replies with his own tirade in Greek. Carefully setting me down on my feet, he moves between me and the woman, waving and gesturing just as emphatically.

  I have no idea what they’re saying but I can guess. Angry sounds the same in pretty much every language. I cover my mouth because I have a sudden and hysterical urge to laugh.

  The woman wags her finger at Nicolai and then kicks our clothes so that the bundle lands in the wet sand at the water’s edge.

  Nicolai shouts at her but she walks off, shaking her head and gesturing lewdly. He pushes through the water and scoops up our wet clothes before they drift away on the surf. After wringing them out, he calls out an apology to me.

  I can’t keep the laughter in anymore. I feel like a teenager caught in the act by Nicolai’s parents. I’m laughing so hard I have tears streaming down my face. The hot spa water may be good for my health, but Nicolai is good for my soul.

  “Who was that?” I finally manage to ask after I’ve waded out and struggle to pull on my wet panties.

  “Another cousin.” He grins wryly as he wrestles with his wet t-shirt.

  “What did she say?”

  “She said we were defiling the healing waters by making sex in them.”

  “Making sex?”

  “Direct translation.” He grins. “I told her we weren’t making sex. In fact, I told her I’d never made sex before in my life.”

  “You did not! What did she say?”

  “She said with lies like that I was sure to burn in hell.”

  I laugh some more. “Good, then I’ll have some company.”

  “Perfect.” He pulls me close for a deep kiss.

  After we finish dressing, we walk dripping wet to where the motorcycle is parked.

  “What time is it?” I ask.

  Nicolai checks his watch. “Four fifteen.”

  I rub my hands together. “Let’s go, baby. We need to buy us some condoms. Quick.”

  He grins and climbs aboard. I climb on behind him, molding my wet torso to him, wrapping my arms around his waist and resting my cheek against his shoulder blades. It’s high time that Nicolai and I finish what we started. It’s high time we start making some sex together.

  ***

  My good mood falters when we drive up to the guesthouse half an hour later. After procuring three packages of condoms—yes, three! Who does Nicolai think I am???—we park beside an old-style moped that is sitting outside the gate of the guesthouse.

  Nicolai curses beneath his breath in Greek.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “My great-uncle Stavros is here.”

  “Is that a problem?”

  “Yes.”

  The man is waiting on a bench in the small garden near the door. If I thought Nicolai’s cousin was elderly, his great-uncle is like the castle on the hill, ancient. Stooped and gnarled, he can’t be more than five feet tall, creating a striking portrait of contrasts with Nicolai’s tall, youthful physique.

  After Nicolai kisses him on both cheeks, he introduces me. It’s all done in Greek and I wonder how he described me to his uncle. Did he introduce me as his girlfriend? Friend? Or, am I simply a tourist staying in the guesthouse?

  By the way the elderly man narrows his eyes with distrust, I don’t think it’s the latter. It doesn’t help that both Nicolai and I are soaking wet and that my pink bra is clearly visible through my wet shirt.

  I stumble over some Greek pleasantries and then hurry upstairs to shower and change. I’m pretty sure whatever it is Nicolai’s uncle wants to talk to him about needs to take place without me in the room.

  I’ve just finished applying fresh makeup when there’s a tap on my door. Nicolai is on the other side, still dressed in his damp beach clothes, his hair wild, as if he’s pushed his fingers through more than once. “Sorry.” His expression is serious as he hands me the plain brown package containing our pharmacy purchase.

  I take the package. “Is everything okay?”

  He scrubs a hand over his face. “It’s fine. My uncle is upset and has called a family meeting.”

  “Is it about the hot springs?”

  “No, no.” He flashes me a smile but as quickly as it appears, it disappears. “No, it’s about this.” He motions to our surroundings. “I got a letter yesterday, I’ve been accepted into architectural school in Thessaloniki starting in September.”

  “Oh Nicolai! That’s wonderful.”

  “Yes, well, I made the mistake of telling my cousin I was going to sell. Uncle’s against it, of course. He’s called a meeting to discuss the matter.”

  “When?”

  He glances at his watch. “Half an hour.”

  “Is there anything I can do?”

  He looks at me long and hard. Then he reaches for my cheek and brushes his fingers lightly over my cheekbone. “You can be here when I get back.”

  I capture his hand and press a kiss to his palm. “I will be.” I hold up the bag. “We’ve got a lot of work ahead of us.”

  His mouth smiles but his eyes remain clouded and distant. I close the distance. Going up on tiptoes, I give him a soft kiss. “I’ll be here. I promise.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  Unfortunately, I don’t keep my promise. The hours during Nicolai’s absence drag on and on to the point where it feels like time is moving
backwards. I’ve eaten, I’ve read, I’ve checked emails—ugh!—an unwanted reminder that I need to return to the real world in a few days.

  I’m bored and impatient for Nicolai’s return. I surpassed my limit on patience and control about two days ago. I try not to think about the fact that our time together is almost over. For me, leaving a lover is always hard, but the thought of leaving Nicolai seems somehow more difficult than most. Probably because we’ve got so much unfinished business. Things should be easier after tonight.

  I check the time on my mobile. It’s eight o’clock and there’s still no sign of him.

  I can’t take it anymore. Leaving a note for him on the kitchen counter, I let him know I’ve gone down to Molly’s Taverna to have a drink and to listen to music. I tell him to text me when he gets back.

  The taverna is about five blocks away, just off the harbor. It’s a quaint old building and is popular with locals and tourists alike. The bar is relatively full, probably because of the live music. In the corner of the room is a small stage where a man sits on a stool playing the mandolin. He’s wearing a black, cotton shirt, rolled up at the sleeves and is hunched over the instrument, his long hair creating a curtain around his face. He’s playing O Sole Mio, and his hand vibrates elegantly over the strings. It’s all so wonderfully melancholic, my chest tightens and I have an irrational urge to cry.

  Good lord, my emotions are out of whack.

  I find an available stool at the bar and take a seat. After ordering a glass of retsina, the popular Greek white wine with a dash of pine resin, I check my messages.

  Nothing.

  As I listen to the music and drink my wine, I check my messages again...and again and again. Yep. No patience left at all. I’m dying here.

  Still nothing.

  The song ends to a smattering of applause just as my mobile vibrates on the bar. Finally!

 

  I type, then I stare at the words on my mobile.

  Home. What the hell? Why does that word keep popping up?

  I quickly erase the message and begin typing again, my fingers flying over my touch pad.

 

 

 

  < No.>

 

 

  <*groan*>

  <*grin*>

  <*sigh* Okay. Need a shower. Will be there soon. XX>

  The musician continues to play for about twenty minutes before the set ends. I’m about to order another glass of wine when I sense a presence behind me. Unable to contain my grin, I turn on my stool. However, it’s not Nicolai. Paolo is standing there, wearing a black shirt open at the neck with sleeves rolled up. His hair is down tonight and the glossy thickness reaches just past his shoulders.

  “That was you playing the mandolin?”

  “Yes.” Pointing to my glass, he indicates to the bartender to bring me another drink before pulling up a stool beside me. He leans over to kiss my cheek. “I’ve been waiting for you.”

  The man oozes sex appeal; the way he carries himself, the way he smiles, his heavy-lidded, suggestive look. Even the way he orders a drink for me without asking is annoying but still kind of sexy. I make a mental note to mention this to Nicolai because Paolo has the whole shtick down pat and it wouldn’t hurt Nicolai to observe a master in action.

  His hand is already caressing my bare knee and, in his slow, sexy voice, he says, “I was afraid you’d left without saying goodbye.”

  “I wouldn’t do that.” I lift his hand to my lips, give the back of his knuckles a kiss and place his hand on the bar. “Goodbye, Paolo.”

  He arches a dark brow. “That’s how it is?”

  The bartender slides my refilled glass in front of me. I thank him and take a sip before answering Paolo’s question. “Yes,” I say, without explanation. “That’s how it is.”

  Paolo is drinking Metaxa. He swirls the alcohol in the glass and says, “So it’s true?”

  “What’s true?”

  “You and Kinellis.”

  I smother a smile. “Where did you hear that?”

  His lips twist in wry amusement. “This is Molyvos. There are no secrets here.”

  I shrug. “You aren’t jealous, are you?”

  Paolo finishes his drink. He holds up the empty glass to let the bartender know he wants another. Pursing his pouty lips he says, “Why would a man be jealous of a boy?” He slides closer. Reaching for my chin, he tilts my face toward him. “I am only perplexed.”

  I move my chin out of his grasp. “About what?”

  He caresses my jaw. “Why you would choose a boy instead of a man?”

  “Trust me. Nicolai is all man.”

  He smiles but for some reason, it doesn’t seem genuine. “Ah. Youth has certain advantages, does it not?”

  I nod and laugh. I don’t know if Paolo is trying to irritate me or what, but there’s no point getting upset by his innuendos. Apparently the man’s ego has been bruised, not because he has any real feelings for me, but because a man like Paolo doesn’t take rejection well.

  “I imagine you have more experience with young lovers than I do,” I say.

  The bartender chooses that moment to pour a fresh glass of Metaxa for Paolo.

  Once the bartender moves down the bar, Paolo says, “I have had my share of youthful...trysts.” His persistent hand returns to my leg, pushing up the hem of my skirt, moving well above my knee. “Though, personally, I prefer a woman who knows what she likes.”

  Oh shit. Why does his touch have to feel good? My overly sensitive nerve endings cry out for more. My knees part involuntarily, sending a completely unintended message of encouragement. My voice is too breathy when I say, “Experience is lovely, but so is variety.”

  Paolo stands, “Dance with me, Tessa. One time before you leave.” He holds out his hand. The man isn’t asking, he’s commanding.

  Oh, what the hell. A little dance won’t hurt while I wait for Nicolai.

  Paolo escorts me onto the tiny dance floor and pulls me into his arms. There’s a slow pop song, I don’t know what, I think it’s Greek, playing over the sound system and within a couple minutes another couple joins us on the dance floor. I’ve danced with Paolo before and am quickly reminded how good he is. It’s all part of that sexual confidence he exudes. His hand is firm on my lower back as he moves me around the dance floor, spinning me, directing me...controlling me.

  I shouldn’t, but I allow him to hold me too close, maybe because the wine and his hard body add to the intoxicating anticipation of the imminent pleasure I’ll share with Nicolai. When Paolo’s hand moves from my back to my ass, I don’t stop him. When the song ends and Paolo bends down to kiss me...I kiss him back.

  Stupid.

  The first thing I hear is a shout. Then Paolo’s solid body is ripped out of my arms. I stumble in confusion as a chair topples and the sound of fist on flesh greets my ears.

  There are more angry shouts in Greek and a few choice words in Italian.

  Oh God.

  Nicolai has Paolo by his shirt collar and Paolo has a fistful of Nicolai’s hair. The two men are grappling and shouting at one another. This is not good.

  “Stop it!” I cry, lunging between them trying to separate them.

  Nicolai turns his head to glare at me and Paolo takes advantage of his diverted attention to throw a punch, connecting solidly with Nicolai’s jaw.

  He staggers back from the impact. But once he has his balance again, he charges, knocking Paolo over a table. He’s about to pounce when the high pitched warble of an elderly Greek woman, stops him.

  As far as her gestures and tone go, she could be saying the exact same thing his cousin said to us on the beach outside the baths today. However, Nicolai doesn’t shout back this time, he stands there and takes the verbal abuse. His stance—shoulders back, chin high, fists clen
ched—tell me how he feels, how he is simmering at the very edge of fury.

  The woman points to the door and Nicolai growls something beneath his breath. He turns to leave but not before grasping my hand in a vice-like grip and dragging me outside.

  Once we’re on the street, I dig my heels in. I don’t know what he’s planning to do, if he’s planning on dragging me all the way back to the guesthouse or whether he plans to pick me up, Neanderthal style, and carry me all the way back over his shoulder. While it was fun at the beach, the thought isn’t the least bit appealing now and I’m not having it. His behavior is brutish, possessive and unacceptable. “Let me go,” I demand.

  He doesn’t let me go. Oh no. He pushes me back against the old stone retaining wall across the narrow street. With a grunt he lifts my hands above my head and leans his body into mine.

  He’s so big, I can’t move. I can barely breathe.

  He’s speaking to me quietly in Greek and I have no idea what he’s saying, but by the way his lips are twisted in a snarl, I know it can’t be good.

  “Nicolai,” I say in a breathy voice. “Let me go.”

  “Let you go?” His voice is harsh and ragged. “Why? So you can go back and fuck that asshole?”

  I wriggle against the stone, trying to gain leverage so I can push him away. No luck. I make an exasperated sound at the back of my throat. “For God’s sake, I don’t want to fuck Paolo.”

  “Really? Because the way you two were grinding on the dance floor made it look like you were halfway there.”

  I grunt with exasperation. “Seriously, Nicolai. It was a kiss, that’s all. Now, let go of me.”

  He ignores me. “What is it about men like, Paolo? Huh? Is that what women really want? They want some asshole who’ll treat them like shit?” He’s breathing so hard his nostrils are flared. “Do women enjoy being played? Do they want to be used? Fucked over?”

  “Of course not.”

  But he’s not listening to me. “Is that what you want, Tessa? You want to be fucked? Is that what you like? Getting fucked by some asshole?”

  “No.”

  “I don’t believe you.” He moves swiftly, lowering his head to take my mouth captive, forcing my lips apart, forcing his tongue inside. In all the hours we’ve spent making out, Nicolai has been many things: tentative, clumsy, sweet and wonderfully sensual. But he’s never kissed me like this. In fact, I wouldn’t even call what he’s doing a kiss. It’s too brutal. Cruel, even.