by Box Set
At the sound of her voice, the stranger—Nik, apparently—stiffened. He broke the kiss, easing gently away from Keynes, a sort of grim resignation taking over his features. It was pretty obvious he’d hoped to make the woman disappear, for some reason, but she clearly wasn’t that faint-hearted.
Typically, Aria was highly suspicious of men who ran from women. In her experience, that kind of situation suggested that a man had taken something, or else that he owed something, and in order to avoid dealing with his responsibilities, he was leading some poor cow on a merry chase.
But something about this particular man seemed so disturbingly… genuine. Or maybe she was just making excuses for herself. Maybe he was quite clearly scum, but her libido had taken over her brain. Whatever the reason, Aria did something deliciously reckless.
She stepped forward, caught the man’s face in her hands, and brought her lips to his.
It wasn’t difficult. Not just because she was tall and wearing killer heels besides—although that helped—but because he seemed totally onboard. Clearly, he was pretty fucking eager to avoid the woman standing a few feet away. Aria had just enough time to note that his eyelashes were ridiculously long, and his brown eyes looked almost black. Then his mouth was on hers and raw, needy lust rolled through her body like a tidal wave.
Kissing wasn’t supposed to feel like this. Or rather, it was supposed to, but it never, ever did. In her nightly fantasies, a kiss would be enough to heat her blood, to sensitise her skin and send a shiver through her body, but in reality, it never was.
And yet, kissing the stranger did all that and more.
Maybe it was the way he held her; not settling his hands somewhere polite but wrapping both those thick arms around her waist and hauling her against him. Maybe it was the feel of his broad chest, his abdomen, his hips, pressed tight to hers. Maybe it was the fact that, despite the insistence of his touch, he kissed her almost gently. His lips moved over hers in a series of soft caresses. He didn’t stick his tongue down her throat like an over-friendly dog. He didn’t put his tongue in her mouth at all.
Even though she kind of wanted him to.
That inappropriate desire reminded Aria that she was doing this for a reason. This guy wasn’t kissing the hell out of her for kicks; he had an audience to perform for. To what end, she had no idea—but this kiss definitely made her Top 3 of All-Time list, so Aria decided she owed him.
He wanted to put on a show? She could do that. She could definitely, definitely do that.
Aria slid her hands from his jaw to the thick, silky strands of his hair, raking her fingers through it as she rolled her hips against his. She wasn’t expecting him to release a soft groan against her lips, so quiet she almost missed it, but she certainly wasn’t complaining. Not at all. She also couldn’t complain when one of his hands began to roam, sliding down the small of her back, skipping her arse—boo!—but grabbing her thigh—yay!—and dragging her leg high. At that point, her brain powered down completely to accommodate for all the extra blood her other body parts were demanding. And by ‘other body parts’ she meant her clit, which might as well be a bloody landmine. One touch and she’d explode. She’d better stop things here, because the arousal dancing along her nerve endings was starting to get out of hand.
Aria broke the kiss. Her vagina literally wept, but she did it anyway. Her vagina, after all, did not make the decisions here.
Her breath came in soft pants as she studied the face in front of her. The face of the man who’d just given her at least a month’s worth of wanking material. He had golden skin, a broad nose and broader cheekbones, a square jaw and deep-set eyes that mirrored the shock she felt. Aria’s gaze flicked down to his mouth without permission. His lips were full, slightly parted, bracketed by laugh lines. She wanted to taste them again.
“Gamóto,” he breathed, the word harsh like a curse. “You—you’re…”
Nice to know she wasn’t the only one whose thoughts had been scattered by that lust tornado. But now probably wasn’t the time for startled stuttering.
She tore her gaze away from him and turned to give the blonde woman a look. It wasn’t her scariest look—not even close—but it was A Look. And it had the desired effect.
The woman didn’t seem quite so unconcerned anymore. Her blue eyes were wide, her mouth tight, her hands curled into fists at her sides. She started to speak, a strangled, choked sound emerging from her lips. Then she snapped her mouth shut again. Finally, as Aria had expected, she turned on her heel and hissed, “Let’s go!”
Her friends hurried off after her, tossing disgusted glares over their shoulders. As soon as they all disappeared, Aria took a step back, breaking free of the stranger’s embrace—no matter how good his hands felt. He let her go, but the startled expression on his handsome face had turned into something more like awe.
“How did you do that?” he asked.
Aria shrugged. “Minor intimidation tactics. I’m a lot scarier than Keynes.”
Keynes huffed out a laugh. “On sight, sure.”
“But…” The stranger shook his head, frowning down at her long, yellow skirts. “You’re not scary at all. You look like a princess.”
Aria’s brows flew up. Beside her, Keynes gaped at the man standing in front of them, his jaw as slack as hers felt. This guy must be taking the piss, right? But he looked genuinely confused, and completely earnest, and…
And it didn’t fucking matter if he needed his eyes testing. She had a conscience to soothe and places to be. “Listen, before I rush back to the ballroom—” that quip was rewarded by Keynes’s snicker “—I kind of want to know what just happened. You aren’t, like, avoiding child maintenance payments, are you?”
The stranger wrinkled his nose. “What? No. I’m avoiding Melissa. She’s not great at taking no for an answer. But this tactic went much more smoothly.”
Aria digested that nonsensical speech, decided it was bullshit, then turned to look at Keynes. To her surprise, he didn’t offer a mocking smirk, or roll his eyes. Instead, he nodded subtly, as if to say, “The bullshit you just heard is actually totally legit, by the way.”
Aria puzzled over this for a second before deciding that Keynes, despite being her friend, was a man, and therefore not entirely trustworthy.
Ah, well. She didn’t need to know the truth, anyway. “We should get back to the reception.”
“We certainly should,” Keynes agreed. He slung an arm over her shoulder, and they walked away.
“Wait!” the stranger called. “Hang on a second.” He had a slight accent, and it seemed to grow more pronounced as he followed them. “What’s your name?”
“Aria,” she said, still walking. It wasn’t exactly classified information.
“I’m Nik. Nikolas. Aria, I want to—”
“I’m busy,” she called over her shoulder. “Hence the whole walking away thing.”
“Tomorrow, then!”
She laughed as Keynes propelled her down the hall. “If you can find me!”
The sound of his heavy footsteps behind them ceased. Just before she turned the corner towards the ballroom, he spoke again. “I will. I will find you.”
Beside her, Keynes gave a quiet snort. “Oh, Nik. That boy. He sounds like a bloody Disney hero.”
Aria laughed softly, and they shared a congenial smirk at the stranger’s expense. Only, she couldn’t help but remember that, five minutes ago, he’d called her a princess.
So, it made sense that he sounded like a prince.
Chapter 3
Nik spent the night kicking irritably at his sheets, scowling at his ceiling in the dark, and replaying that damned kiss. The predatory, possessive beast in his chest didn’t let up for a second, demanding that he go and fetch her. Fetch Aria. Aria. He recalled the sweet pressure of her mouth on his, those full lips and the bite of that piercing; the lush feel of her body, the way his fingers had sunk into her thigh…
He’d never wanted anyone like this. He’d never wante
d anything like this, not even his career, because frankly, he’d never been hungry. Nik was painfully aware of the fact that he’d sailed through life without effort, from spoilt brat to gifted teen to successful adult, all based on his family, his DNA, and his natural competitiveness. He’d never lain awake at night wondering if he’d gain whatever his heart desired, because he always knew that he would.
Nik Christou saw, wanted, and took. But he couldn’t just take a woman. And the knowledge was frustrating him like nothing else. Maybe that was why he spent the last few drowsy hours before dawn fantasising about her taking him.
Whatever was causing this strange obsession, it didn’t matter. The salient point, Nik decided, was that he needed Aria. Ever since he’d ended his contract with Colston City, Nik had been treading a tightrope over shark-infested waters. The sharks were anxiety, the waters depression; when he fell, he’d be eaten alive if he didn’t drown first. And every day that passed without his teammates, without his profession, without the only thing that had ever made him useful, Nik’s balance slipped a little more.
But around her, he’d been on solid ground. That, he’d realised, was the feeling that had shaken him. The sensation of earth beneath his feet at last.
Yeah. He needed her. Badly.
The next morning Nik was up bright and early, prowling the halls for a flash of platinum hair and silver piercings. Unfamiliar nerves stalked him, a sense of low-level dread caused by the instinctive knowledge that if he found her and fucked up somehow, he would regret it.
The solution was simple, then: he would not fuck this up.
Since that was settled, Nik continued his search, greeting the staff as he went. Most of them didn’t answer his nods and cheerful Kaliméras because they were too busy gaping at the sight of Nik Christou out and about before sunset. He’d been almost nocturnal since his fucking knee had stolen his only passion from him. He may have indulged in a depression nap or five, as his sister called them. But he’d recently rediscovered his winning mentality and decided that it was time to start a new phase in his life. A different career, another direction. Maybe something philanthropic. He promised himself that by the time he figured things out completely, he’d have Aria’s number at the very least. It might be a challenge, but that was okay.
Nik was always, always, up for a challenge.
He found the source of his small-scale meltdown in the hotel’s breakfast buffet, her platinum hair smoothed back into a little ponytail, her attention focused on the piles food in front of her. When Nik saw her, he stopped in his tracks. Looking at this woman felt like stepping out of an air-conditioned building into the heat of summer; like being smacked by a wall of heat. But this heat had little to do with the temperature, and everything to do with the sight of her bare legs beneath the table. Nik sent up a quick prayer of thanks for the invention of short shorts. Then he stared some more.
She looked up, obviously feeling his gaze, and scowled.
Which was not the reaction Nik typically received from people he’d kissed. It certainly wasn’t the reaction he wanted from the woman he appeared to be obsessed with, but life was not for the faint-hearted. He made his way over to her table and sat down.
She gave him a flat stare while chewing on a croissant. He briefly fantasised about licking off the smudge of scarlet jam hovering at the edge of her lip, then decided that would be coming on too strong.
“Found you,” he said.
She swallowed her mouthful. “Whoopee.”
Ouch. But he was pleasantly distracted from that sting when her tongue snaked out to lick away the smudge of jam he’d been eyeing. Watching her do it was almost as good as doing it himself. He imagined.
But enough of his imaginings. He wasn’t good at talking to people, not romantically. He had no practice, since he typically didn’t have to try. This conversation, therefore, would require all of his concentration. “Good morning,” he said, offering his most charming smile. All of his smiles were charming, according to his agent, but this one was definitely the best.
She nodded, a sort of jerky head-tilt that only went up, rather than down. “Hi.”
He was surprised she’d responded at all, considering the extra-strength aura of fuck off she was giving out. Truthfully, after last night’s kiss, that aura might as well have been a dog whistle. When it came to her, he was definitely a fucking dog.
“I’m sorry to intrude on your breakfast,” he began, “but I wanted to thank you for what you did yesterday. It was kind of you to help me when we are strangers.”
Aria sighed as if considering a great tragedy. “I don’t know what I was thinking, to be honest.”
“I believe you must be softer at heart than you’d like.”
She glared at him. Nik shifted subtly in his chair and decided that later, he’d take a moment to examine why her glares made him hard. Right now, though, he’d just have to go with it. “You’re a very impressive woman. I’d like to get to know you better.”
She rolled her eyes and picked up a bunch of grapes. “I’ve heard that before.”
His lips twitched. “I bet.” The array of dishes before her was so massive, it covered his side of the table as well as hers. It was as if she’d made her own little buffet within the buffet. Since he was always starving, courtesy of his unholy metabolism, Nik reached for a slice of cheese as he spoke. “Really, though. I think—”
“Wooooah,” she said, reaching out to slap his hand. “Don’t touch my food, man.”
He gaped. “Are you serious? You have an absolute mountain on this table. You’re never going to eat this.”
“It’s my mountain. And you don’t know what I can eat. If I see your hand on this food again, I’ll stab it.” She raised her fork, apparently serious. “I know where all the important tendons are.”
He must be fucked up, because the sight of Aria waving a fork with violent intent was making him want to smile. He really had no idea why people apparently found her intimidating. She was adorable. And lickable. And funny. And so, so lickable. He dropped the cheese.
“Good boy,” she said, slicing into her eggs. “Now, since you’re taking all fucking day to spit this out, let me speed things up.”
Oh, wonderful. She was going to cut right through his strange brand of social awkwardness. They really were made for each other.
“You’re after a repeat of last night’s avoidance routine,” Aria said. “Right?”
He blinked. “I beg your pardon?”
She gave him an arch look. “Keynes told me all about you. Apparently, you really are drowning in genitalia of all sorts. He reckons you’re too nice to say no to people.”
Well, that was arguably true. But… “That’s why you think I’m here?”
She raised her brows, looking genuinely confused. “Is that… not why you’re here?”
“I just…” He paused, considering. He couldn’t run his mouth as usual, not in this situation, not with her. He needed to tread carefully, to find out what she thought. “It wouldn’t be unreasonable for you to assume that I came to find you with a different goal in mind, would it? A more personal goal.”
A look of horror crossed her face. “You’re not asking me out, are you?” she demanded.
“No,” he said quickly. Because he certainly fucking wasn’t, not if the prospect made her look like that.
“Oh.” She rolled her eyes, almost at herself, and smiled slightly. “Sorry. Keynes did tell me that you don’t date.”
Keynes talked too fucking much. “That’s true. I don’t.” But if you’d like to change that, feel free.
“Cool.” She took a moment to chew on a few bites of egg, her expression thoughtful. Meanwhile, Nik sat in silence and tried to figure out how to keep her with him at all times, forever-and-ever-amen, if she wouldn’t even let him take her out. He may have to get creative. That was okay. He worked best under pressure.
Finally, she swallowed, took a huge gulp of orange juice, and focused on him again. “So, you
want, like, an escort?”
Ah, yes. His quest for a human shield, which she had somehow invented entirely on her own. “Are you an escort?” How much did escorts charge? Could he conceivably hire her for… the rest of his life?
“Never done it before,” she said cheerfully, “but everyone starts somewhere, right? No, I’m actually a tattoo artist.” She raised one heavily inked arm, waving it about like a prop rather than a limb. “And, you know, a walking cliché.”
“There is nothing cliché about you,” he murmured. As soon as the words left his mouth, he realised he’d said them all wrong. They were too fervent, too earnest, too fucking obvious. But her self-deprecation made him want to outline her perfection in detail. With his tongue. Between her legs.
Just an idea.
Clearing his throat, Nik moved on. “So, you’re not an escort, but you are open to fulfilling this… this need I have?” Christ, that sounded terrible. But it also sounded like an excellent fucking idea. He could hire her to stay by his side, they’d get to know each other, some stuff would occur—he was hazy on that part of the plan, but he assumed it would involve charming the pants off of her—and boom. She’d be in his life, eventually in his bed, and hopefully at least half as into him as he was into her. He might even accept a quarter. An eighth, perhaps. Because he was pretty fucking into her.
With a smirk, she asked, “Do you need someone to protect you from the horror of pretty girls who want you bad? Oh, and boys?”
“It’s usually the women,” he admitted. The words weren’t a lie, but Nik was uncomfortably aware that the conversation had taken a… misleading turn. He didn’t need anyone to protect him from sex.
Although, actually, he kind of did. Because he was leaving his days of carefree sluttery behind him, and he did have trouble telling people to fuck off, and he also had the strangest feeling that if he tried to sleep with anyone but Aria, it might not work. Where was this feeling coming from? Nik had no idea. But his father had always said, “Trust your gut”.
