by Maisey Yates
He tightened his hands into fists around the sheet as he slid inside of her, inch by inch, slowly, excruciatingly so, but more for him than for her. He was lost. For one blinding moment his mind was clear of everything. Of his need for restraint, control.
There was only this. Only her body. Only the feeling of her around him.
He pushed in deep, thrusting hard, and she gasped, a little note of pain in the sound that brought him sharply back to the present.
“Okay?” he asked.
She nodded, biting her lip. He bent his head and kissed her. “If you’re going to bite someone’s lip,” he said, “make it mine.”
He didn’t expect her to oblige him, but she did, pinning his lip tightly in her teeth. And the pain was just enough to take the edge off the pleasure, just enough to help him regain some of his control.
He thrust into her again, establishing a rhythm, her nails scraping against the bare skin of his back, his shoulders. Her touch inflaming, the pain anchoring, necessary.
“Harder,” he bit out, gripping her thigh and tugging it up over his hip as he continued to ride her. Her hold on his shoulders deepened, her nails digging in enough that he was sure she had to be drawing blood. “Harder,” he said again. And she obliged.
Every time he entered her, she arched into him until finally he felt her go stiff beneath him, a soundless scream on her lips, her warmth pulsing around him. And he let go. The rhythm forgotten, the steadiness gone. Only a blinding race to the finish remained as his blood roared in his ears, the strength of his release savaging him, tearing him to pieces inside and leaving them scattered, impossible to collect. Impossible to ever be whole again in the way he’d been before this. Before his orgasm.
Before Leah.
Somehow, in one wrenching moment, his wife had changed everything. And he felt nearly desperate to find a way to change it back.
CHAPTER NINE
LEAH’S WORLD WAS rocked. Completely. Ajax in theory was one thing. Ajax in reality was another thing entirely.
He had been firm, gentle sometimes, commanding, and OMG those years where his sexual activity had been dormant had clearly not affected him adversely. He knew about hot buttons on the female body that she’d never discovered on her own, and he knew how to do just the right things to them.
She could hardly breathe. What had it been, ten, twenty minutes since they’d parted? Since her orgasm had shattered her? Or maybe it had been two hours. Or thirty seconds. She honestly had no idea.
Ajax rolled into a sitting position, his back to her, his muscular, perfect back, to her. She reached out and traced her fingers over the lines on his back.
Ajax’s body was sculpted, well-defined, without a spare ounce of flesh anywhere. Almost like he worked out to the point of punishing himself. Or to the point of exhaustion so he couldn’t want anymore. She knew a little something about that. If she was faced with the choice of rolling around, tangled up in her sheets, dying of sexual frustration brought about by Ajax fantasies, she often opted to go and run on the treadmill.
When she didn’t opt for a shower to uh...alleviate things in a different way altogether.
Maybe he would shower with her later. That was an optimistic thought.
He stood and she cocked her head to the side, taking in the view. Oh, the view. She’d admired that view many times. When it was covered in denim, or black, well-fitted dress pants. But naked? Oh, that was its own pleasure. She would happily buy tickets to this show.
“Where are you going?” she asked, when he started to move away from the bed.
“I have some work to do,” he said, bending down and picking up his pants from the floor, tugging them up, covering her peep show.
“What? You have...work? What kind of work could you possibly have to do after...after that?” Oh, no, she sounded so...needy. So raw and exposed. But she’d had to let her guard down for that, to be with him that way.
And she hadn’t had a chance to protect herself again. Like she’d just shed her scales, leaving behind new, shiny skin that was tender to the touch. To Ajax’s coldness.
He turned, the muscles in his stomach rippling. “The world didn’t stop turning just because we had sex.”
She could only stare at him, words frozen on her lips. Her world had stopped. It had been rocked, in fact, she’d just thought that it’d been rocked; and it turned out everything was going on just fine in Ajax land. No big deal. He had work.
Screw that.
“Well, I think the world should stop for a second,” she said. “This is supposed to be a real marriage...this is supposed to be our honeymoon. I know we’re trying to make it look like things are good for the press, but you said this was a forever kind of thing. And...and that means you need to get back here and start acting like a husband.”
“I just acted my part,” he said. “Were you not satisfied?”
“I am not satisfied,” she hissed, sitting up, tugging the covers over her breasts.
“Your screams during your multiple orgasms tell a different story.”
“You... You... That was uncalled-for. And rude. And anyway, sexual satisfaction and my satisfaction with this moment are not inextricably linked!”
“This is a real marriage, agape, as I said it would be. I was in your bed tonight as you requested, but what happens after that, that’s up to me.”
“This isn’t how marriage is,” she said, her throat closing on the last word, making it sound choked. Betraying her emotion. What was wrong with her? Her armor wasn’t protecting her now. She was breaking apart behind the layer of protection she counted on. The damage coming from the inside out.
“It’s how our marriage is.”
He turned and walked through the curtain, down into the living area, and she just sat there, her knees drawn up to her chest, a shiver, a chill, working its way through her body.
For her, sex had changed everything. And it seemed to have changed things for him, too. But he didn’t feel closer to her. It didn’t make him want to hold her or be near her.
She’d given him her body. Let him run his hands over her bare skin, let him into her body.
She had given him absolutely everything. And it still hadn’t made him want her. It had only made him want to put her at a greater distance.
And the very last bit of fantasy, the last little shaft of light in the darkness, the hope that she hadn’t realized still lived inside of her, that someday he would feel something for her, was snuffed out.
* * *
She was very careful to avoid Ajax for as long as possible the next day. When she woke up, early the next morning, he was asleep on the couch. She had to fight the urge to go to him and cover him with a blanket, or smooth his hair back from his forehead, or try to move him into a more comfortable position.
He’d clearly fallen asleep while working, half sitting up, his laptop on the table in front of him, his neck turned at an angle that looked the opposite of comfortable.
But it worked out, because his obviously exhausted state allowed her to sneak out undetected. She spent the day wandering around the private beaches and swimming, stopping at the bar for a fruity drink and some lunch.
Yes, for being a small, exclusive island, there were a lot of ways and places to avoid her new husband, and to get a grip on what had happened between them last night. Try to figure out a way to rebuild the walls inside.
But she didn’t know how to do that. Didn’t know how to protect herself when it felt like he was in her.
She sighed and let her wrap drop around her ankles. Then she started to half jog down to the waves. She stopped, adjusted her bikini top and rethought the jogging. There was not enough support in that itty-bitty red top for that much bouncing up and down.
“How are you doing?”
She turned arou
nd, midadjust, her hand stuffed down her top, and saw Ajax. She slowly removed her hand and tried not to die of embarrassment. “Morning,” she said.
“I asked how you were.”
“I don’t know... How are you? You were practically a virgin, and don’t virgins get all emotional after sex?”
“Leah, I’m being serious.”
“So am I.”
He shrugged his broad shoulders, his loose white shirt tightening across his chest. “Fine.”
“Oh, yeah, good. Me, too. Fine. Totally fine. I’m glad you’re fine because I’d hate to feel all guilty over any wounded virtue.”
“I haven’t got any.”
“So you’ve said.”
“And you?”
“My wounded virtue? Fine. Fine.”
“That’s what I was asking about.”
“Okay,” she said, putting her hands up. “I’m not fine. I don’t want you sleeping on the couch.”
“Why?”
“Because it feels wrong. Don’t you think a married couple should share a bed?”
“Often in history married couples haven’t.”
“So? Often in history people died of dysentery, but that’s not really a trend I want to continue.”
“You don’t know what it will be like...to spend so much time with me. Perhaps you should worry about something other than sharing a bed all night. Like if you’ll be able to stand having breakfast with me in the morning.”
“Or maybe, since it’s our honeymoon, we see how much of each other we can stand. Why not have a little immersion therapy?”
“Why not keep us both from needing therapy?”
“Ajax, why don’t you want to share a bed with me?”
“It’s not what I do, Leah.”
“You admitted to me you hadn’t done anything like this in a long time, so how is it you have formed opinions on how you should be in this situation?” She looked out at the water, trying not to cry or do anything similarly humiliating. Like smacking him over the head. “Would you have shared a bed with Rachel?”
“No,” he said, his voice rough.
“But I thought you loved her.”
“I didn’t, Leah, obviously.”
The admission stunned her, left her feeling hollow. “What’s that supposed to mean? You’ve been telling me all this time that you loved her. You weren’t with another woman from the time you met her.”
He put his hands on his head. “None of this ever had anything to do with her. I made a plan. I decided marrying her would be the best thing for my life, marrying into the Holt family would be the best thing for my life, and feelings...followed.” He dropped his hands back down to his sides, curled them into fists. “But I have hardly thought of her since our marriage, and I would be shocked if you could find a man who would think of her, when he had you, naked and underneath him.”
His voice got deeper, rougher, the light in his eyes changing.
“Well...then,” she said. “I guess there’s...that.”
“You do not like the thought of her with me,” he said.
“Brilliant observation there, Sherlock, I really don’t.”
“Why?”
“Well, answer me this, Ajax, and whatever the answer is, make it honest. What do you think about another man touching me? Kissing me like you did? Touching my breasts the way you did.”
A muscle in Ajax’s jaw jumped. “I think...I think I would have to kill him. And when I say that, I don’t say it lightly. Or metaphorically.”
She swallowed. “Oh.” She believed him. Somehow, she believed him. “Ajax...who were you before you came to our home? Before you came to work for my father?”
“This discussion is not...necessary. I don’t...”
“You told me that last night. As if by keeping it from me you were protecting me, but honestly? Real honesty here, not protecting myself, not putting on a happy face. Not hiding tears. You destroyed me. Your reaction to what happened between us. Leaving me like you did. You can’t just pretend that by closing yourself down and giving me nothing you won’t be hurting me.”
“Leah, you don’t know what you’re asking.”
“No, I don’t. So tell me. It hardly seems fair. You’ve known me most of my life. You know my family. You saw me all through my hideous awkward stage, which, in my opinion, gives you way too much power. I know you didn’t just appear one day. I know you got your scars from somewhere. Tell me so I understand.”
“You don’t want to understand.”
“I do.”
“No.” He turned, his expression fierce. “I’m not going to stand here on a beach with you in that ridiculous bikini and tell you all the sordid details of my life.”
She let out a growl and reached behind her, undoing one of the ties on her bikini. Then she yanked off the top and threw it into the sand. “There. Half the ridiculous bikini is gone. So tell me part of the story.” She waved her hand over her midsection. “Half, even. You could tell me half.”
He looked around them, then back at her. “What the hell are you doing?”
“My bikini was a problem. I have removed the problem. Half of it anyway. Tell me.”
“You can’t just...stand there like that.”
She put her hands on her hips, anger, adrenaline, coursing through her. Because her defenses weren’t holding. They weren’t rebuilding. The only other option was to get him to bare himself, too. And if she had to stand there, half-naked to get him to do it, it was a small trade.
“Can. Am. Tell.”
Ajax sucked in a sharp breath, his eyes glued, no matter how hard he tried to get them not to be, to Leah’s breasts. She pushed him. Brought him to the brink, so that the monster tugged at his chain, begging to be released. And if he wasn’t careful, the chains would break completely.
He could do this. She was testing him, and he wouldn’t fail.
“You don’t want to know this, Leah. This is...the kind of darkness you’ve never seen.”
“I can handle your darkness, Ajax,” she said, whiskey eyes burning into his.
The look in his eyes was that of a man ready to go into the torture chamber. “I don’t want you to have to handle it.”
“Tough. I married you. That means it concerns me. I’m not a child. I’m not a sheltered flower... Ajax, my whole life has been lived in front of the world. I have had total strangers leave the most hideous comments about me on blogs, in news stories, all because...because when you have any kind of public face, whether you want it or not, people feel like they own you. And that showed me a lot about people. A lot of really horrible things about people. So maybe to you I seem innocent or unaffected, but the simple truth is that I’ve seen more than you think. You can trust me with your story. With your darkness. I won’t run.”
“But maybe you should.”
“I won’t.”
He paused for a moment, the words sticking in his throat. “My father was...is, I imagine, I doubt he’s changed his name...Nikola Kouklakis. And no, we don’t share a name. No, it is not by accident. But by my design.”
He could see her thinking, could see her processing, wondering where she’d heard the name.
“He is a criminal. The most notorious criminal in Athens. One of the worst in the world. Doubtless you’ve heard his name on the news. He is a drug lord and human trafficker, and I was born and raised in his compound. My mother was never there. I don’t even know who she is. I was raised by my father, the most violent, reviled man in Greece. And before I left, I nearly became him. It’s what I was being groomed for. To take the place of a man who sold drugs and women. And do you know what, Leah? I would have. I could have.”
She shook her head, her eyes glittering. “No, Ajax, you couldn’t have.”
“Yes, Leah,
I could have. Why do you think it’s so important I keep control? Why do you think I have to plan everything, keep my eyes on the prize ahead. Because if I don’t...greed, corruption, murder, all of that is in my blood. It’s who I am. Bred into me, raised into me. Nature or nurture? Doesn’t matter, I have both on the side of darkness, and it is all still in me. If I don’t keep it chained, if I don’t keep it under control....”
“That’s ridiculous, Ajax. You aren’t a criminal any more than I am.”
“If you run through the alleyways in the middle of the city, you make two right turns, then pass two buildings. At a third, you take a left. You knock on the door, and someone answers, usually a kid. Say whatever the word of the night is, and they show you to the back. They open up your backpack, inspect the packages. You take the money, and you go home.” He swallowed. “You have to know it like that. Memorize it. Because you make the trip in the dark. And it’s scary, especially when you’re a little kid. So you need to know it. Know what to do, know what to say. And you have to be damn fast so you don’t wind up with a slit throat. Or worse.”
“What’s worse?” she asked, her voice hoarse.
“Being sold. Trust me. It’s worse. People who want to buy boys...it’s not for anything good.” He looked at her, at the horror etched onto her lovely face. “I am a drug runner. Is that not criminal activity?”
“You were a mule. A child.”
“Call it what you will, there was an age when I knew what I was doing and when I continued to do it. Family business and all.” He thought back, to the opulent mansion on the hill, overlooking the city. To the halls, filled with people, women, who were like wraiths, hollow eyed and desperate. Hungry looking. Willing to sell any and everything for a taste of their drug of choice.
“It is the most hideous business,” he said. “Drugs turn people into ghosts. They steal everything vital from them. Everything alive. The color goes from them. They have one drive, and one drive only—the next fix. And they will sacrifice anything to get it. We—my father, me—we capitalized on that.”
“Not you. You were a child.”
“I lived in the mansion. I wore custom suits bought with that money.”
