Which he absolutely was not going to do, obviously.
Until she asked for it.
Suddenly, Aria and Baxter turned to look at him as one—as if they were talking about him. Ri’s eyes met his, and something electric shot through his body, strong enough to snatch his breath for a second. Fuck.
“I’m going over there,” he muttered, more to himself than anyone else.
Still, Kieran replied. “You don’t need to worry about Baxter. That’s your girl.”
Wise words, except she wasn’t his girl. She was just pretending to be. And while Nik knew, logically, that his fake girlfriend wasn’t going to fake-cheat on him, his blood turned to ice at the thought of his very real obsession falling for someone else right under his nose.
That was easy enough to avoid, though. He’d just have to make sure she liked him best.
“Nik,” Varo shouted. “Where you going? You’re down one-nil!”
“Time out,” he called over his shoulder as he hauled himself out of the pool. He could feel Aria’s eyes on him, burning just like the sun-baked stone under his palms. So he might have flexed a little more than necessary as he stood, and he may have walked over to them kind of slowly, just to enjoy the way her gaze raked over his body.
And, since she was unashamedly staring, Nik decided he could do the same.
Jesus, she looked good. Sweet little tits, thick waist, hips and a belly he could grab while he fucked her. Not that he was going to fuck her. This was all just theoretical. Or rather, hopeful. She really was covered in tattoos, and he found himself desperate to trace every single one with his tongue—from the gemstone heart below her collarbone to the little jellyfish swimming up her ankle. She leant back against her sun lounger, one leg bent, so he caught a glimpse of the plump, bikini-covered V between her thighs.
I want that. Bad.
The need hit harder than a set of studs to the gut, almost hard enough to stop Nik in his tracks. Fuck. If he didn’t stop thinking about this—about her—he’d be flashing his hard-on to the whole damn house in the next five minutes.
Nik tore his gaze from Aria and glared at Baxter instead, letting the man’s smug-fuck face erase every last scrap of desire. Ah. Perfect.
“Baxter,” he growled as he strode closer.
“Christou.”
The conversation ended there. His back firmly to the other man, Nik bent by Aria’s sun lounger and met her eyes. They were huge and doe-like without all the smokey makeup she preferred, tilting slightly upwards at the edges. Even more right now, when she gave him a teasing smile that set his racing heart at ease. Obviously, she didn’t like Baxter. Nobody with any fucking sense liked Baxter—Varo just had some primary school determination to ‘include everyone’, so the prick was always invited to these things.
In fact, Nik decided, Aria probably hated the guy. Sure, they’d only spoken for five minutes, but it was possible. In which case, she might be sitting here silently begging him to rescue her from the man’s irritating presence.
And Nik could never abandon a lady in distress. So he slid an arm under her bent knees, wrapped the other around her waist, and picked her up.
She sucked in a breath so hard, he was surprised she didn’t choke. “What the bloody hell are you doing?” she demanded.
“You’ve been watching long enough, chrysí mou. Come and play.” Was it his imagination, or did she shiver in his arms at that last sentence? Maybe she was cold. Somehow. In thirty-degree heat. He held her tighter just in case.
The guys in the pool cheered as Nik came closer. Aria didn’t seem nearly as impressed, but he was kind of enjoying her iron grip on his biceps. He wondered if she’d dig her fingers into his skin like that when she came on his cock.
If she came on his cock. Which she might never do, if he fucked this week up.
“This is a health and safety hazard,” she said, her voice dry as ever. “You’re about to slip, drop me, land on your arse and crack both our heads open.”
“I can assure you, my motor skills are better than that.”
“Isn’t your knee fucked up?”
“It’s still stronger than the average knee.” According to his physio, anyway.
“Sounds like bullshit,” she sang. He liked the smile on her face, liked the sight of her eyes sparkling in the sunlight and the way she tapped her tongue against her lip ring. Her navel was pierced too, twice. He didn’t even know you could pierce it twice.
He wondered if she’d pierced anything else.
“Throw her in!” Varo shouted. Everyone in the pool cheered, and the shout caught on. “Throw her in! Throw her in!”
“Don’t you fucking dare,” Aria whispered. And then, almost immediately, she winced. So she realised, then, that she’d said exactly the wrong thing.
Nik’s grin widened. “But sweetheart, I want to get you wet.”
“Oh, you filthy fuck—ooh!” she half-screamed as he started running, escalating to a full-on screech when he jumped into the pool, carrying her with him. As they plunged in, Nik pushed her up so her head wouldn’t be submerged. He doubted she’d remembered to hold her breath in between screaming “You absolute prick!” Plus, he had a feeling that she might punch him if he got her hair wet.
The water felt ice-cold against his sun-warmed skin. When Nik’s feet hit the bottom of the pool, he pushed up and broke the surface again, sending a spray of water arcing through the air. He shook his head like a dog and grinned in the face of her death-glare. “What? You don’t want to swim?”
“For all you know, I can’t swim!”
He slid his arm around her waist, pulling her back against his chest. “You don’t need to swim. I’ve got you.”
“Oh, bugger off,” she muttered. But her hand rose to slide over his jaw. She turned her head and kissed his cheek. It was that kiss, combined with her soft arse pressing against him below the water, that sent every drop of blood in Nik’s body rushing to his dick. He was hard as a fucking rock, painfully hard, within seconds. And he saw the instant Aria felt it, because her smile faded and her eyes flashed up to his, wide and questioning.
He froze. They hadn’t discussed this, because he hadn’t expected this. He wasn’t some kind of depraved sex pest. Regardless of his hopes, he had not foreseen a situation where he ended up rubbing his erection all over Aria in front of about twenty people. And because of those twenty people, he now had to let go of her in a way that wouldn’t seem suspicious.
Or at least, he thought he did. Until she reached up and kissed him.
Because his friends were all five years old, a cheer went up the minute her lips touched his. Fireworks would have been more appropriate, because for the second time in his life, Nik was absolutely undone by a kiss. It was the way she arched her back, pressing her arse harder against his cock, and the gentle tug as she sucked his lower lip into her mouth. When the tip of her tongue teased his, Nik actually moaned. He wanted to shove down his trunks, slide her bikini aside and thrust his aching—
“Heads!” Varo shouted. One of the three footballs in play plopped into the water beside them, sending up a huge splash. Aria broke the kiss with a laugh, as if it was that easy. As if she could go from that impossible heat and uncontrollable need to carefree playfulness within seconds.
Which, clearly, she could. But Nik, for the first time in his life, was struggling to do the same.
She pulled the ball closer with her fingertips and shouted to Varo, “What am I supposed to do with this?”
“You’re on my team,” he grinned. “Bring it over here.”
“She’s on my team,” Nik managed to growl.
“Too late,” Aria teased, her tone sing-song. “Sorry, love.” She leaned in to kiss his cheek and whispered in his ear, “How am I doing?”
Then, as reality filtered in—as he remembered that she wasn’t his, that the kiss hadn’t been real at all—she winked and swam away.
Chapter Seven
There wasn’t a single clock in Varo’s h
uge, fancy house. Aria knew, because when the sun hung low in the sky and her lungs were exhausted with laughing and swimming, she’d excused herself to wander through the villa’s cool, cavernous halls.
The place was like a magical world; timeless, unbelievably luxurious, and oddly silent—except for the chatter of the cleaners, who flitted in and out of rooms like fairies.
But the disorientating bubble of the villa didn’t faze the industrious Georgia. It was around 6 P.M., according to Aria’s phone, when the little bombshell—a word that described her in every possible way—began running through the rooms, ordering everyone to get ready. “We’re going out! No, don’t moan Kieran, it’s just a light one tonight. Dinner! A bar or five! It’ll be fun!”
One of the guys whose names Aria refused to remember came wandering in, dripping wet, a phone pressed to his ear. “Sí. Sí, queremos—wait, hold on a sec. Hey. Yo, Nik’s girl.”
Aria looked up from her own phone, pasting a smile on her face. Her thumbs kept moving as she tapped out an outraged text to Jen. Everyone keeps calling me Nik’s FUCKING girl! “Yeah?”
“You want some blow?”
She narrowly avoided gawping like a cartoon character. And only because she had decades of experience in being cool as shit. “Um… nah. No, thanks, man. I’m good.”
“Cool, cool.” The guy switched back to Spanish and disappeared.
What the hell kind of people just… ordered their cocaine by phone? Like it was a bloody Chinese takeaway? Rich people, she supposed.
“Aria!” Georgia shrieked, barrelling back into the room. “Get ready! We’re leaving in four hours!”
“Am I… supposed to take four hours to—?”
Georgia slapped her hands against the cushions either side of Aria’s head and leaned in, her expression grim. “Time is different here,” she whispered darkly. “It’ll take you forty minutes just to get your falsies on.”
Aria didn’t mention the fact that it took her forty minutes on a good day. False eyelashes were not her area of expertise. “Oh, right. Okay then.”
“Chop chop!” Georgia cried, already running off through the house. “Let’s go, people! Let’s go! Where’s Varo? Varo, pon tu trasero aquí, you tit!”
Three hours later, Aria realised that Georgia hadn’t been exaggerating. She’d never taken this long to get ready in her life.
She rifled through her makeup bag for some lip gloss and ran through a mental checklist. Dress: present and correct, the low-cut neckline secured with acres of tit tape. Shoes: by the bed, just waiting to be worn. Jewellery: her bracelets were fine, her necklace was fine, but she might change the studs in her earlobes for some hoops…
She barely registered the fact that the shower’s distant splash, audible through the bathroom door, had stopped. But she sure as shit noticed a second later when that door opened to reveal Nik, his tawny skin glistening, his gorgeous body barely covered by the little white towel slung low on his hips.
Aria stared at his reflection in the mirror, her mouth suddenly dry, her heart pounding. Despite herself, she squeezed her thighs together under the dressing table, a spark of heat flicking to life in her belly. Baby Jesus on a cracker, he was so damn fine. He raised an arm to scratch his head, revealing that even his fucking armpit hair was sexy. How could armpit hair be sexy? Was she high?
No, just horny. Basically the same thing.
Nik’s absent gaze found hers in the mirror, and his distracted expression disappeared. He was all focus now, dark eyes sharpening, that wide mouth tilting into a smirk. Probably because she was staring so hard.
“Close your mouth,” he winked, “before you catch something.”
Aria dropped her lip gloss. Oops. “Piss off.”
“Just some friendly advice.” The lip gloss rolled towards him, and he bent to pick it up. Call her a perverted motherfucker, because Aria watched eagerly for some slippage in that towel. It was just plain curiosity, that’s all. She’d never been with a guy who had thighs like fucking tree trunks. She wanted to know if they made his dick look smaller by comparison.
Though it certainly hadn’t felt small, earlier in the pool.
Nik picked up the lip gloss—his towel remaining tragically secure—and moved closer to the vanity. But he didn’t hand it over. Instead, he squatted down beside her chair, those muscular thighs and solid calves making her mouth water. Aria’s gaze caught on the way his towel rode up, and then on the carved lines of his abdomen, and then on the little drops of water sliding through his chest hair. Finally, she reached his face and found him smirking.
“You look good,” he said.
“You don’t have to compliment me, Nik. That’s not in the contract.”
“I know. But since my eyes are working fine, and I can speak, and you’re wearing that… I might as well tell you. You look good.” His gaze ran from her bare legs to the low V of her neckline. He reached out and traced a finger over the fine cross tattooed between her breasts. She tried not shiver as his calloused skin rasped over hers. Her nipples felt like bullets, so sensitive she almost whimpered as they tightened against her dress.
For a moment, his gaze held hers, hot and dark with promise. But then he looked away, shaking his head slightly, breaking the contact between them.
“Sorry,” he said, holding out the lip gloss. “I meant to take my clothes into the bathroom. I forgot.”
The loaded meaning behind that apology stiffened her spine. “It really doesn’t matter to me.”
Nik arched a brow. “It doesn’t matter to you if I wander around half-naked?”
“Nope.” His fingers brushed hers as he handed the little tube of gloss over, and the heat stirring between her thighs became a full-blown inferno. She was surprised she didn’t burst into flames. Still, she opened the lip gloss and prayed her hands wouldn’t shake as she applied it. The way her heart was pounding, they just might.
“Are you sure? Because it seems like it does.”
Well, that did it. Pride and stubbornness truly piqued, Aria turned a slow, disgusted look at him. “Sweetheart. Do you know how many men I’ve seen naked?”
His smirk faded at that, becoming something slightly darker. “I could not begin to guess.”
“Enough. More than enough. Nudity does not bother me. You could walk around swinging your dick like a toddler and I wouldn’t bat an eyelash. So don’t ever think I’m concerned by your abs and your… towel.” Her don’t-fuck-with-me tone might have faltered a little bit at the end, there. But he didn’t seem to notice; he was too busy scowling at her, his usually cheerful face thunderous.
“So, you don’t care,” he said flatly, “if I wander around naked. You are not remotely affected by my presence.”
She rolled her eyes, flicking her hair as she turned back to the mirror. “Feel free to strip off and stick this lip gloss up your arse, if you want. I’ve got plenty more.”
He straightened up abruptly. “That’s great. Since you don’t mind, I’ll just behave as I usually would.” And then he dropped the towel.
She absolutely did not look. Not at all. And he certainly didn’t stand there and shove it in her face. No, he turned away almost immediately, casually going about his business. He got dressed while telling her where they were going for dinner, how much Varo and Kieran liked her, and complimenting her overhead throw.
While Aria applied her bloody lip gloss, and hummed in response, and acted natural. And tried not to think about the glimpse she’d gotten from the corner of her eye, just before he’d turned away. A glimpse of his thick, dark cock, not hanging by his thigh, but standing hard against his stomach.
Only she couldn’t stop thinking about it. Oh, dear.
Chapter Eight
“I think I’ve found my people,” Aria shouted over the music, leaning against the bar. “Cuz if this is your friends’ idea of a quiet night…”
Nik knocked back another shot and grinned. “It was supposed to be a quiet night. But sometimes we get carried away.”<
br />
She laughed a little louder than usual, throwing her head back. The movement made her wobble on her high heels, so he wrapped a hand around her arm to hold her steady.
“I think I might actually be drunk,” she said, finally figuring out what her bright eyes had already told him.
“I’d fucking hope so after all that vodka.”
She scoffed. “Clearly, I’m not used to shots that aren’t cheap and watered down. You can let go now.”
Nik wet his lips, feeling slightly dizzy himself. It wasn’t alcohol, though—at least, not all of it. Hours of drinking with Aria, dancing with Aria, trying and failing not to flirt with Aria, were going to his head way faster than the booze. And the silken feel of her skin against his palm wasn’t helping. “Right,” he nodded. “Of course. Yeah.”
She looked down at his hand, which hadn’t moved. Then she looked up at him. He thought she was trying to arch a brow, but it came out more like a surprised-looking head loll. “Nik—”
“Sorry.” He dragged his hand away and slapped it on the bar, letting the cool chrome soothe his skin. He felt like he was burning. Maybe he really was drunk. Because he was supposed to be getting to know her, not mauling her like a twat.
“You know, you’re really cute,” she said. “Sometimes, I mean. Other times you’re kind of scary-sexy.”
He frowned, biting the inside of his cheek. “I scare you?” That was the last thing he’d wanted. But he knew he pushed things too far, sometimes—all the time, actually—and Aria, tough as she seemed, was fucking fragile if you took a minute to look. “I’m sorry. I really sorry, Ri.”
“No, no, you don’t scare me. I mean, you don’t scare me, scare me. It’s more like… you know when you’re about to fuck a guy and he whips out some monster dick and you’re like Well, fuck, how’s that gonna fit?”
Sweet on the Greek: An Interracial Romance (Just for Him Book 3) Page 6
