Sweet on the Greek: An Interracial Romance (Just for Him Book 3)

by Talia Hibbert

  “Yeah?” His head rested on a pillow beside her crossed legs. He bit lightly at her knee, just the barest scrape of teeth, but it still sent a thrill straight to the place between her thighs. The place that suddenly felt more like a space, conspicuously empty, needing to be filled.

  For God’s sake. Was that all it took her get her going, now?

  “Things have changed between us since we met,” he said, looking up at her. His eyes were like honey in the sunlight streaming through the window, golden-brown and sticky-sweet enough to trap her. “So, if you liked me then, how do you feel now?”

  Aria bit her lip. Something was dragging her gaze, like a magnet, towards the place at the foot of the bed where he’d bent her over—but she wouldn’t give in to that pull. Because if she did, he’d see, and he’d know exactly what she was thinking.

  Instead, she said honestly, “I really like you now.”

  “So, once this is over,” he said, “and you go home to start the best tattoo shop in Europe—”

  She laughed, and his teasing smile widened.

  “In the world, actually,” he corrected. “Once that happens… You won’t be done with me.” It didn’t sound like a question, the way he said it. And that cocky grin on his face, that solid confidence in his tone, didn’t suggest any kind of uncertainty.

  But she must not be fully recovered from last night, because she imagined she saw uncertainty anyway. Imagined she heard it. Imagined she felt it. “Are you asking if we’re friends? Real friends?”

  “Yeah,” he said softly.

  Aria ran her tongue over her lip ring. “I’d like us to be. I don’t want to never see you again.” Actually, just the thought made her feel sick. Or maybe that was the chocolate bagel she was currently scarfing down? Must be. Still, the prospect of him disappearing was… unpleasant.

  “I feel the same way,” he said, looking up at the ceiling. “Do you want to hear a funny story?”

  She chuckled nervously at the abrupt change in subject. “Um… okay?”

  “A few years back, I met this girl—French girl. I don’t speak French. But she was a huge Colston City fan, so she sat on my lap at a party and…” He shrugged. “You know. At this point, I was living with Kieran. So, the next morning, she leaves my room to get a drink. Half an hour passes and she’s nowhere to be found. I get up, go looking for her… and she’s still in the kitchen, talking to Kieran. He speaks French. Anyway, I knew he was going to be precious about it, so I pulled him aside and told him he should ask her out. He refused, because of some weird friendship code, so I asked her out for him. And—”

  “Is this your weird way of telling me you slept with Laurie?” Aria interrupted.

  He flashed her a sheepish smile. “Yeah. Yes, it is.”

  She chewed on the last bite of her bagel, then snatched the other half from his grip. He’d barely eaten it, anyway. “Okay.”

  Was that relief on his face? Maybe, but it was quickly replaced by grim determination. “Here’s another funny story.”

  “Oh, Christ.” Despite herself, Aria felt a grin creep onto her face. “Go on, then.”

  “So you know Varo’s my best friend, right? And he fell in love with G at first sight. They’re a forever kind of thing. But Georgia’s into threesomes, and—”

  “You cannot be serious right now.”

  He spoke faster, ignoring her spluttering. If she didn’t know any better, she’d think he was nervous. “Georgia’s into threesomes and Varo is too, but he’s protective. Plus, he’s not out. In fact, I think he considers himself straight. Which means they can’t just fuck anyone—”

  “So, you, being the best friend on earth, volunteered as tribute?”

  “That’s it,” he said. “That’s literally it. That’s all. I like them, they like me, sometimes we fuck.”

  Through the haze of her shock and amusement—and, yeah, jealousy—Aria realised that Nik had lost his usual grin. His words sounded kind of… edgy? Urgent. As if it was important that she believe him, that she understand.

  She felt something light and airy surround her heart, even as a slow smile spread over her face. “Nik, why are you telling me this?”

  He blinked up at her as if the answer was obvious. “Well. I thought you’d like to know. Because…”

  When that word trailed off, a thousand potential endings to his sentence filled her mind. All things considered, one seemed more likely than others.

  “Because you’re trying to get in my pants,” she said. “For real.”

  “I already got in your pants. Wait, sorry—is that disrespectful? I’m just saying. I mean, I’m just pointing out the fact that I—”

  She peered at him closely as he actually stammered. Nik Christou was lying beside her, cheeks flushed, fumbling for words as if he were a normal human being instead of a millionaire pro football player who could cosplay Adonis with nothing but a gold laurel.

  Aria set the rest of her bagel aside and put a hand over his mouth.

  He stopped talking. Then he flicked out his tongue and traced a line over her palm, eyes dancing with mischief.

  “You are absolutely impossible,” she told him sternly.

  He replied with something she couldn’t interpret, since her hand was still covering his mouth.

  “I thought you weren’t doing the casual sex thing anymore?”

  Apparently, he wasn’t prepared to answer that with a mumble, because he tugged her hand gently away. Eyes burning into hers, he said, “I don’t want casual.”

  Well, smack her on the backside and call her Marianne. “Um… right… so what you want is…?”

  “Un-casual. What’s the opposite of casual? I want you intensely. I want you formally? I want—”

  “Committed,” she finished, her voice flat. “The opposite of casual is committed.”

  He studied her for a moment, his gaze sharp, considering. She waited for his inevitable recoil, or maybe some hysterical laughter. It didn’t come.

  Instead, he said, “Tell me about your ex-husband.”

  It was an odd request, but she was prepared to go there if it meant a reprieve from this conversation. A reprieve from the tension of knowing that he couldn’t want commitment and she definitely shouldn’t.

  “His name was Matt. We went to school together. He spent years calling me fat and ugly. Then we turned sixteen, and I don’t know what changed, exactly, but all of a sudden, he was into fat and ugly. And I…” she rolled her eyes. “I was pathetic. Trying really, really hard not to be, but I hadn’t quite gotten the hang of that whole ‘backbone’ thing just yet. I thought being with him would mean… winning? Showing everyone who ever laughed at me? I don’t know. We were together for years, and I guess we were in love. He never bullied me again, at least. He treated me okay. We ran off at eighteen to be roadies—he was a musician, you see, and he didn’t want to be without me. I just wanted to escape my parents.”

  No, that wasn’t true. Aria forced herself to meet Nik’s gaze, ignoring the tempest of emotions in his eyes. The sympathy, the tightly contained anger, and something else she couldn’t bring herself to focus on. “Actually, I thought it was romantic that he wanted me around. I had— I kind of have a problem, I think. I need to be wanted. I suppose I didn’t get enough attention as a kid.” She laughed, even though there was no ‘suppose’ about it. Aria knew exactly what was wrong with her. Funny how that didn’t make it easier to fix. “Anyway, we got married, but it didn’t work out. I was never going to be happy at that point in my life, no matter who I was with. He’s an okay guy. We don’t talk, though. We don’t have any reason to.”

  They’d never had any reason to be together in the first place. He’d been in lust and she’d been in her toxic brand of ‘love.’ Ah, sweet romance.

  “That doesn’t sound pathetic to me,” Nik said finally. “It sounds like you were vulnerable. But that’s okay. You don’t learn how to ride a bike without falling.”

  She smiled despite herself. “Deep, man.”r />
  “So deep,” he deadpanned.

  “Seriously, though, I’m…” Aria trailed off with a sigh. This wasn’t fucking therapy. Nevertheless, something about the look on his face made her finish. “I’ve learned, over the years, that relationships really aren’t for me. I’m not… I can’t trust myself.”

  “Yourself?”

  “Or anyone else,” she added with a grin. “Whatever. Semantics. This is depressing. Can we move on?”

  “We can do whatever you like, moro mou.” Nik sat up suddenly, their faces inches apart. “I told you yesterday. All you have to do is ask.”

  His gaze held her hostage, heavy-lidded and intense. Aria’s nipples tightened as she squeezed her thighs together, that familiar ache strengthening instantly. “Really?”

  “Really.” He brushed a kiss over the corner of her mouth. Just the slightest touch, but she felt that hint of pressure directly between her legs.

  “Fuck me, then,” she said, throwing the words out like a challenge. He couldn’t resist a challenge.

  Except, apparently, for right now. Nik’s mouth met hers, his tongue tracing a red-hot line over the seam of her lips until they parted for him. He didn’t deepen the kiss, though. Christ, at this point, she would’ve let him shove his dick in there—but instead, he pulled away.

  A teasing smile on his face, he murmured, “I will fuck you happily. After I take you to dinner.”

  Aria stared. “What?”

  “Dinner.” He got up and headed for the wardrobe. “Get up. We’re going to eat.”

  “I… I thought we weren’t going out tonight.” I thought you were going to shag me senseless, you infuriating bastard.

  “Not with them. But you’re hungry, aren’t you?”

  Well, yeah. She usually was. And she certainly wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of asking for sex again.

  Especially not when something in the tightly coiled muscles of his shoulders, the dangerous gleam in his eyes, told her she’d get what she wanted eventually.

  After dinner, she supposed.

  “Fine,” Aria allowed, dragging herself out of bed. “I’m gonna shower.”

  “Leave the door open.”

  She stopped in her tracks, turning to him with a blink. “Why?”

  “I know you want to come, Ri. But you won’t be. Not until I say so.” He rifled through his shirts in the wardrobe as he spoke, his tone casual. “So, leave the door open. If I catch you misbehaving, there’ll be consequences.”

  His voice flooded her body with desperate lust, need pooling between her thighs and tightening her muscles. Still, Aria kept her voice steady as she said, “Consequences?”

  He looked over his shoulder. “Should I spell it out for you, agapi mou?”

  “No,” she muttered, hurrying off to the shower. She was already horny enough, thanks very much.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Nik took Aria to the best restaurant he knew and wondered why the food tasted like ash in his mouth.

  Probably because it wasn’t her. Wasn’t her skin, sweet and sharp like cinnamon. Wasn’t her mouth, soft and inviting. Wasn’t her cunt, whose scent was practically imprinted on his brain despite how many hours had passed since he’d made her come.

  He might have avoided those sorts of thoughts—and thus avoided getting hard in a five-star restaurant—if Aria hadn’t spent the entire meal moaning over every mouthful she swallowed. She gasped as she licked creamy dessert off her spoon; batted her eyelashes every time she looked at him; said his name almost as breathlessly as she did when she came. She was doing it on purpose. Which just made it hotter.

  “So what are you going to do now?” she asked, trailing her fingertips over the stem of her wineglass. She’d had it filled with water because “If I drink anymore this week, my kidneys might shank me.”

  Nick tore his attention away from the glide of her fingers over glass. “Do?”

  “Instead of football,” she said slowly, which reminded him that before the movement of her hands had hypnotised him, they’d been discussing his profession.

  “Ah. Right. Well, that’s the question, isn’t it?”

  She arched a brow. “You don’t have any ideas?”

  “No,” he said, both entirely honest and slightly pathetic. “I, um… I’m not really good at anything else.”

  He wasn’t expecting those words to produce such an outraged expression from Aria. She looked personally offended. “What on earth are you taking about? Yes you bloody are!”

  Even though she was wrong, his heart swelled, a smile curving his lips. “You think?”

  “Oh, come on. You know you are.” She gave him a suspicious look, as if this were all part of some ploy. Like he was fishing for compliments, or something. But after a moment, she seemed to realise that he was deadly serious.

  “I told you before,” Nik said. “My life has been easy. Football is my only skill and I was lucky enough to be able to pursue it.” He shrugged. “I don’t know what I’ll do next. I’m working on it. It’s just taking me a while because every time I try to think about the future, I freeze. I can’t see anything.” Except you. I see you like a light in the dark.

  “Ah.” She nodded slowly. “Well, that’s totally understandable. Your career just ended abruptly. You’ve lost your passion. But you’re amazing, Nik. There are a thousand things you could do, related to football or otherwise—you’re the most determined person I’ve ever met. You can do anything. Anything. So don’t pressure yourself, don’t overthink, it, just… take some time to acclimatise. Let yourself breathe. Okay?”

  He managed to force out some sort of agreement, even though emotion clogged his throat. She hadn’t said anything that he didn’t know already. But he only knew it logically; the words had never sunk into his bones before. To have Aria, the person he trusted most in the world, tell him that it was okay? That he could handle this? That he’d be alright?

  A tension Nik hadn’t realised he’d been carrying drifted away. He felt suddenly lighter, stronger, more like himself, than he had for weeks. She moved the conversation on, the sound of her voice soothing him even though he couldn’t discern the words. He was thinking too hard. He was considering a new approach, a new plan, a new way to become the person he wanted to be.

  Eventually, his whirring thoughts stilled. He didn’t need to consider this now. He had time. Everything would be fine. Aria had said so.

  He took a breath that felt as refreshing as cool rain and said, “Thank you.”

  She didn’t ask what for. She didn’t point out that they’d been talking about something else entirely for the last five minutes—or rather, that she’d been talking and he’d been grunting occasionally while staring at the tablecloth.

  Instead, she smiled and said, “Any time.”

  The rest of the night flowed like water.

  Was it odd that taking her out, ordering whatever she wanted, showing her places she’d never been before, soothed the hunger in his chest as much as touching her did? Maybe. Nik was starting to think he’d fallen in love with her. Not now; before. Ages ago. He’d always thought that when he fell in love, he’d know—just like his parents had known, just like his sister had known. But he wasn’t the smartest guy in the world.

  As she teased him throughout dinner, as he drove them home with his hand on her thigh, Nik considered the possibility that he’d fallen in love without noticing.

  It did sound like something he’d do. The idea bore further investigation.

  They parked up and headed into the house in uncharacteristic silence, the razor-edged flirtation they’d kept up throughout the night finally fading. He knew why. For the past couple of hours, a glimmering thread of tension had stretched taut between them, crackling like a live wire. Now someone would have to make the first move. Someone would have to risk a shock.

  “No-one’s home,” she murmured as they wandered through the house.

  “It’s barely ten. They probably just left.”

  “
We’ll be alone for hours.” She climbed the stairs ahead of him with a slow, lethal smile.

  If Nik’s cock could get any harder, it would have. “You want me to fuck you now, agapi mou? Should I push you to your knees on the stairs, pull your underwear aside and shove my dick inside you?”

  He heard her sharp intake of breath and wrapped a steadying arm around her as she faltered.

  Pressing his lips to her ear, he murmured, “I could. But I won’t. Upstairs.”

  Because he had this weird, old-fashioned idea that the first time he fucked her, it would be on a bed. He’d never cared about that kind of thing before, because it didn’t matter—but this woman. This fucking woman.

  He reached out and pulled up her skirt. The tight fabric caught around her waist, and he moved down a step to take in the sight of her arse, the dimpled globes bisected by a strip of blue silk. She arched her back and looked over her shoulder at him, challenge sparkling in her eyes. “I dare you.”

  He spanked her, not particularly hard. “Nice try. Up.” He wouldn’t be distracted tonight. He knew exactly what he wanted, and he was going to get it.

  She laughed—the best fucking laugh he’d ever heard, like a waterfall of freedom with a stormy edge of lust—and then she moved again, climbing the stairs faster than he’d ever seen, that luscious backside bouncing with every step. On the second flight of stairs, she stumbled again with a giggle. He steadied her from a few steps below, reaching up to put his hands on her waist. Then he bit her thigh, just hard enough to make her gasp.

  “You really are impossible,” she accused, but she didn’t sound unhappy about it.

  “And you’re irresistible. Here we are together. I wonder what will happen next.”

  “Shut up,” she snorted, climbing the stairs again and skipping across the landing.

  “You can shut me up when we’re in bed,” he said mildly. “You can suffocate me with all that, if you want.”

  “I just might.”

  The idea sounded like heaven, actually, filthy fucking heaven: Aria sitting on his face. He’d breathe in her cunt like it was oxygen and die with her thighs holding him hostage. Yeah. That was his new life goal. But maybe he’d save it for sixty years’ time. There were a lot of things he needed to do before he died, after all.