PrideandSurrender

by Julia Devlin

  Same cloth indeed. From the look passing between them, I guessed this would be something Amara would gladly pay.

  They were nothing at all as I expected, but now that I’d met them, they seemed exactly right. Chic and a bit European, Christos made a little more sense to me. Curious, I asked, “How did you two meet?”

  “Once upon a time,” Nickolas said, “I fancied myself an artist. I took a class and she was the model.”

  I had no trouble believing that. As stunning as Amara was now, she had to have been breathtaking, movie-star gorgeous as a young girl.

  “One look at her and I knew she was mine.” Nickolas reached over and took her hand before flashing me a wry smile. “Just as every other young man in the class believed.”

  I imagined their eyes catching across the room and them falling in love at first sight. A ridiculously romantic notion, but somehow, as they looked at each other with such love, I had no trouble believing it.

  “Of course she wanted nothing to do with me,” Nickolas continued, disabusing me of the story my imagination had been weaving.

  I blinked at Amara, who laughed at my startled look, making a flush spread up my neck. She patted Nickolas’ hand. “I had other plans that didn’t include an arrogant Greek man.”

  “The other boys, she didn’t say yes to them either,” Nickolas said. “But for me she had a particular dislike.”

  “My Juliet, surely you can sympathize.”

  Amara rolled her eyes and scoffed, “Do you know what he did the first time he talked to me?”

  I leaned forward, on the edge of my seat at this not-so-smooth telling of their romance. “What?”

  “He walked over to me after class, strutting through the room like a peacock.” She straightened in her chair, squaring her shoulders, transforming her features into an arrogant, dominant mask that I’d seen on her son’s face hundreds of times.

  The image, so startling realistic of husband and son, I laughed, not forced this time, but with genuine pleasure that tightened my stomach.

  She winked at me. “Ah, so you know this look?”

  “I do,” I said, unable to stop the camaraderie shared between two women who understood the ways of a certain type of man.

  Nickolas sighed and shook his head at his son. “I believe we’re being mocked, Christos.”

  “It seems so,” Christos said, his tone amused.

  “And then,” Amara continued, ignoring the comments, plopping back against the back cushion of her chair. “And then, he did the worst thing imaginable.”

  Nickolas groaned and scrubbed a hand over his face as though he were unable to bear the follies of his youth. “Please, darling, she’ll think horribly of me and we’ve just met the dear girl.”

  “Ha!” Amara rambled something off in Greek that made Christos laugh but left me out of the loop. She wagged a finger at me. “Some transgressions are unforgiveable. So he walks over to me, thinking he’s…”

  She glanced around and gestured. “What do these young people call it today?” Her expression brightened and she snapped her fingers. “Ah yes, I remember, like he’s sex on a stick, and examines me as if I’m a goat for purchase before he says,” she dropped her voice several octaves, mimicking the tone of a man, her face alive and animated in a way that made me want to photograph her again, “‘Come with me.’”

  I rolled with laughter, slapping me knee with my hand as uncontrollable waves of the giggles swept over me. I could so picture it, so see the scene, feel how she felt, as I felt the first time I’d had a conversation with her son. Like her, I’d experienced the mixture of emotions in the face of an arrogant, far-too-handsome-to-be-true man who wasn’t used to taking no for an answer.

  “But it gets worse,” Amara leaned back over toward me again with narrowed eyes. “So of course I refuse. But he tries again, this time telling me that while I’m very beautiful, I also have generous hips and thinks I’ll make a good mother.” She rolled her eyes at her husband, love and affection on her face despite the exasperation.

  “You do have lovely hips, my darling,” Nickolas said before looking at me. “You must understand, Juliet, different time, different culture. This was a compliment.”

  Amara snorted. “What a foolish man you are.”

  Warmth stole over me, taking me by surprise, making my guard slip, so I said quite without thinking, “Christos told me that I can’t beat him because I lack passion and couldn’t understand why I took offense.”

  Amara’s brows instantly snapped together as a darkness clouded her face. “Christos!” She started off in a tirade of Greek, arms waving as she yelled at her son. While I didn’t understand the words, her disapproval was plain and Christos started to sputter under the onslaught.

  “Wait. Hang on, here, there’s more to—”

  More yelling.

  “No. Wait. I did not. You don’t understand,” Christos pleaded through his mother’s tirade.

  Amara didn’t even slow up, and I hid a smile behind my fingers, thoroughly charmed by Christos’ flustered protests.

  He turned and scowled, running his hands through his hair so he looked rumpled, boyish and disgruntled. “Tell her, Juliet, tell her the entire story.”

  In that moment, the foundation under my feet shook as my world titled on its axis and the knowledge I’d been fighting sank in, shaking me to the very core.

  I loved him. I was truly, deeply, passionately, insanely in love with Christos Constantine.

  Something shifted inside me, making room for the wealth of emotion brewing inside me that threatened to overflow.

  Our eyes met. Caught. Clung.

  He went still, the green of his irises growing bigger as they contracted.

  I loved this man.

  It welled inside me like a tsunami, swelling with a force that threatened to not only drown me but sweep me away forever. The realization was brutal, raw and passionate, just like all my emotions with Christos. No gentle lapping of tides with him.

  I loved him.

  I waited for the panic, the swell of fear to crush me. I sat in this private Greek isle oasis, his family in the background, the breeze blowing over my cheeks, rustling the strands of my hair, frozen in my anticipation and expectation.

  Christos’ gaze was probing, as though trying to reach into my mind and pull free my thoughts. He brushed his fingers over my hand.

  Electricity snapped between us.

  I braced for the rush of terror. The flood of fear. Tears. The urge to run.

  Only it didn’t come.

  One thought wrapped around me, enveloping me in a comfort and warmth.

  I am home.

  Chapter Ten

  I stared at my townhouse, the soft light over the stoop beckoning me. My fingers tightened on my seat belt. We’d been silent on the way home. The car filled with tension so tight I could reach out and ping it.

  The thickness in the car wasn’t the normal sexual tension that connected us like a live current. Nor was it the threatening tension of our past. No this was new—the tension of two people who knew that what they were about to do would change everything.

  The purr of the engine died, plunging the car into silence. My thumb hovered on the button that would free me from the belt, but I couldn’t quite make myself push it. I swallowed hard.

  I knew what he’d do to me when we went to my bedroom. I’d be helpless, bound, at his complete mercy. But unlike before, I could no longer convince myself it was only an act. A game two people played.

  Now I knew I was in love.

  There was no hiding the truth from him, he knew it. I could feel it in his touch, see it in the way his eyes roamed over me. In one fraction of a second everything had changed. And even though I trembled with a mixture of fear and anticipation of the unknown, I wasn’t afraid.

  His hand settled over my fingers clutching the strap. “They loved you.”

  My breath stuttered in my chest. “You were right, I had a great time.”

 
I had too. Dinner had been filled with fantastic food, wine and conversation. His family had welcomed me into their folds as though I’d been sitting at their table forever. They filled my head with stories of the man next to me both funny and touching so that over the course of the evening I’d become drunk on him and his life as much as the wine I’d consumed.

  The pad of his finger covered mine over the red button and pressed until my seat belt slid free from the latch. I wanted to hold it there, tight over my chest, but let go. He took my hand and raised my fingers to his lips, planting a soft kiss on each one. “It’s time, Juliet.”

  I looked at him, so darkly handsome, and butterflies took flight in my stomach. “Okay, Christos.”

  His gaze traveled to my mouth then came back to my eyes. “I want to kiss you. I’m dying to kiss you, but I can’t right now.”

  A couple of months ago I would have assumed he’d meant he didn’t want me, but I didn’t jump to any conclusions now. Instead, I raised one brow in silent question.

  “Not until I have you on your bed, stretched out and open before me.”

  My pussy filled with heat. Those few words made my clit swell and pulse, ache for release. Never in a million years would I have believed I’d get wet at the idea of being tied up and helpless, but the evidence of my arousal hummed in my body.

  Or maybe it was Christos? In all black, covered in half shadows from the glow of the moonlight he couldn’t look more dangerous. In the end, it didn’t really matter. I wanted it and him.

  “Do you know why, Juliet?” His voice dropped, turning husky. “Why I can’t kiss you?”

  I shook my head as my breath quickened in anticipation of his answer.

  His fingers squeezed mine. “Because I cannot trust myself. Once I start touching you, it’s impossible for me to stop. I am so desperate for you right now, if I kissed you, you’d be on top of me, riding my cock in under five minutes.”

  My nipples beaded almost painfully at his words. “Yes, Christos.”

  “You want this, don’t you? I can feel it in the way you’re practically vibrating.”

  We hadn’t touched, but the car filled with the thick, heavy scent of sex anyway. “Yes, Christos.”

  “I want to give it to you.” Again, he clutched my hand tight in his. “I can’t kiss you right now because I need the bonds as a reminder to stay in control so I can give you what you need.”

  My cunt clamped down on his words as though wanting them to fill me up. Wet, slick heat coated my slit and inner thighs as my breath came fast. I wanted to say I loved him but I couldn’t push the words out, so instead I settled for another admission. “I need it, Christos.”

  He groaned, a low tortured sound. “You think I have power over you, my Juliet, but you have no idea the power you have over me.”

  My lips parted on a gasp and it hit me like a ton of bricks.

  I believed him.

  It wasn’t that I’d thought he’d been lying before, but I had the kernel of doubt. That little voice inside my head telling me not to trust him, not to let go, not to surrender, but now that voice was quiet. Without the constant buzzing in my ear, I could hear the truth.

  I did have power over him. It was different than the power he had over me but nonetheless profound or earth-shattering.

  “I’m in love with you, Christos.” The words had left my lips before I even knew I was going to say them. Saying them was the first real risk I’d taken in as long as I could remember and it felt good. Freeing. Right.

  I didn’t want to hide anymore.

  He blinked as though I’d flipped on a bright light and his eyes hadn’t yet adjusted. He trailed a finger along the line of my jaw, pulling me close to him so I could see the fire blazing in his gaze.

  My heart beat so fast I was scared it would slam out of my chest.

  “I love you too, Juliet.” He stroked down my throat, hovering over the rapid pounding of my pulse. He raised my hand and flattened it on his chest. His own heart pounded under my hand, matching the frantic rhythm of my own. “Do you feel that?”

  I nodded.

  “It’s you, Juliet. Only you.”

  Mouth dry, my tongue darted to wet my lower lip. When I swallowed, I felt the press of his fingers against the fragile cords of my neck. “I think it’s time to go inside now, Christos.”

  His eyes hooded and I could feel the change in him as he slipped into the role I needed. “That it is, darling girl.”

  * * * * *

  I don’t know why he closed the bedroom door, we were alone in the house, but I couldn’t deny that with the resounding click it felt as if there were no turning back. The decision was made. Final.

  I was giving myself to Christos. Mind, body and soul. I’ve given parts of myself to others over the course of my thirty-five years, but never everything as I was now.

  His hands cupped my shoulders, smoothing down my bare arms. Tingles exploded over my skin.

  His lips fell to the shell of my ear. “You know, I hadn’t realized that I’m wearing all black and you’re wearing all white.”

  My brow furrowed, thrown by his casual tone and subject. He slipped his arms around my waist, pulling me against him until his hard cock nestled at the base of my spine. He chuckled, low and wicked. “Fitting, isn’t it?”

  I nodded, staring at my bed in all its crimson decadence. The pillows piled high, it was rich and lovely. We’d made it this morning, amidst long bouts of slow, deep kisses.

  He squeezed me tight. “Do you trust me?”

  Again, I nodded.

  “Tell me.”

  I swallowed hard and managed to say, “I trust you, Christos.”

  “Then go stand by the bed.” With a soft brush of his lips against my neck, his arms fell away.

  My pride didn’t disappear in the face of my surrender, and while I obeyed, I walked to my bed with my shoulders back and spine straight, turning to face him with a tilt of my chin.

  His lips quirked as he crossed his arms over his chest, that familiar arrogance alight in his features. “Do you remember the first time we kissed?”

  “Yes,” I said simply.

  “And after?”

  “Of course.”

  He nodded. “You told me you didn’t obey orders.”

  My shoulders became a little straighter. “That’s true.”

  “Tonight, you’ll obey mine.”

  “Yes, Christos.” My tone steady and sure, I met his eyes without flinching. Standing here before him, unable to stop the small tremble running through my limbs, ready to give myself to the man I’d sworn would never have me, every protest I’d ever made in shreds at my feet, I’d never felt more powerful. More alive.

  In my surrender, I was free.

  “Strip for me,” Christos said, making no move toward me. “Slowly.”

  I hesitated for only a fraction of a moment before I raised my hand to the top button of my sleeveless blouse. Even in my empowerment the nerves trickled in, I couldn’t help it. I’d never done this before. And while my emotions were powerful, they were also new and I felt like a foal trying to stand for the first time. Wobbly but determined.

  Christos saw my hesitation and gave me a slight nod of encouragement but said nothing further. It was just like him. Not to rush. Not to be impatient. Not to expect me to jump, but to trust I’d give him what he wanted when I was ready to give it.

  My body hummed with arousal. We’d barely touched but I was more wet than I thought possible. My nipples were hard peaks. My cunt was swollen and ready. Already desperate need twisted in my belly.

  With a deep, shaky breath, I toyed with the button, slipping it free.

  His gaze flared, trailing down to flicker over the next button.

  Something came over me—I wanted him to struggle with his desire, threaten his control.

  I traced the open vee of my blouse, stroking over the silk like a lover. He watched my every move. The muscles in his biceps bunched and flexed and I imagined him clenching his
fists under his folded arms. The thought sent jolt of pleasure straight to my clit.

  I smiled at him then, the way I’m sure Eve had when she held out the apple to Adam, and slipped one more button free.

  Christos took one huge step toward me.

  My heart leapt in my throat.

  He froze midstep, stopping as though some magnetic force held him back.

  I ran my hand over the lace of my bra, stopping to fiddle with the next button.

  “Are you toying with me, Juliet?” His tone a husky rasp.

  I tilted my head, giving him my best innocent expression and slipped the next button free. “Would I do that to you?” I was startled by my voice, all low and suggestive. All-knowing woman.

  He raised one dark brow, and I saw the exact moment the challenge slipped into his eyes. “You’re taking a risk here, darling girl, because I will win this game.”

  Anticipation seeped through my veins like the most powerful aphrodisiac. Another button free, I opened my blouse wider, cupping my breasts, circling my nipples through the lace now abrading my sensitive skin, increasing the ache between my thighs.

  His jaw ticked and I saw his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed.

  “You said slowly.” I trailed down to the next button then stroked back up to my breasts, biting back the moan as my nails scraped over the hard buds. “I’m obeying.”

  Green eyes flashed, his mouth firmed into a sensual line. He gave me a slow once-over and a thrilling danger thickened the air.

  It was decadent. This mood between us. This game. I wanted to savor it.

  “I see,” he said, walking to grab the wingback chair that matched my small writing desk. He brought it over and placed it next to the end of my bed before sitting down. “In that case, I want a show.”

  Confused, my hands stilled, he couldn’t possibly mean… “What?”

  “Dance for me.”

  Open-mouthed, I stared at him, trying to process what he was asking me to do.

  “This is my fault, I underestimated you, and I’m sorry about that. You need something a little more challenging than stripping naked, don’t you, Juliet?” All evil and confident he’d won, he gave me his best smirk, eyes gleaming with mischief. “You’re begging to give me a show, so turn on some music and give me one.”