It's All Greek to Me

by Katie MacAlister

  “By all means, help yourself,” he said, gesturing toward his chest.

  She leaned forward, her breasts brushing his belly as she pressed her face to the center of his chest, licking the line between his pectorals. “Very soft.”

  “I’m glad to hear you think so,” he said politely, but she couldn’t help but notice his voice was starting to get rough again. “Just so you know, once you’re done cataloging my body hair, I will be taking my turn.”

  “I’m glad I shaved before I came to Greece, then,” she said, kissing first one nipple, then the other. She trailed a line of kisses over to one shoulder, then down the smooth, silky flesh of his bicep, down lower to his wrist. “Your arm hair is very soft, too. And I absolutely love your hands, but we’ll leave those for another time.”

  He lifted up his free hand to look at first its back, then its front. “You have the oddest likes of any woman I’ve ever met.”

  “Now, your leg hair is a smidgen sturdier than your arm hair,” she said, nipping at his hip before moving on to kiss a line straight down his heavy thigh muscle. “I like that you’re ticklish here, too, but I promise I won’t tickle you now. I think what I like most about your legs, while we’re on the subject, is that you don’t have beefy upper legs and scrawny lower legs. You have really fabulous calves, you know.”

  “I’m glad to know that all the time I’ve put into maintaining them has been worthwhile.”

  She glanced up from where she was kissing his knee and stroking his calf. “Do you do special exercises?”

  “No, sweetheart, I don’t.”

  “Oh. You’re being facetious.”

  “I was. I apologize. Are you through?”

  “Not quite. Your feet, Iakovos.”

  He lifted his head to look down the length of his body at them. “I have two.”

  “Yes. They are nice feet. I approve of them. However, I’m not going to suck on your toes, because frankly, the thought of that just makes my skin crawl. So if you harbor any fetishy sorts of thoughts about toe sucking, I’m afraid I’m going to have to disappoint you.”

  “To be honest, I’m not a big fan of it, either,” he said. “Now are you done?”

  “Almost. I haven’t discussed your pubic hair.”

  He laid back down and started laughing, his hands making vague gestures in the air.

  She propped her chin on his hipbone and waited until he was done. “You’re laughing at me,” she said finally, when his laughter had died down to a burble.

  He wiped his eyes and grinned. “With you, Harry, not at you.”

  “I’m trying to have a serious discussion—”

  His penis bobbed next to her head. Her lower lip quivered for a moment before she regained control. She cleared her throat. “Trying to have a serious discussion about your pubic hair, and you . . . you . . .”

  An odd little snorting noise emerged from her.

  He lay still, tears of laughter leaking from the sides of his eyes, waiting.

  “Oh god, I can’t do this,” she said, bursting into laughter, leaning over him and kissing his smiling lips. “I love your pubic hair. Make love to me, Iakovos. Right now, before I go into a lecture about bouncing coins off your butt.”

  “You already mentioned that,” he said, chuckling as he pulled her down beneath him. “But I believe I warned you that I expected to have my turn.”

  “You want to talk about my body hair?” She looked down at her pubic bone. “Everything important is shaved off except for that, and I feel I should warn you that what you’re seeing isn’t my natural state. My girlfriend convinced me that if I was going to Greece, I needed a bikini wax, and holy Jesus, Iakovos, I’m never getting another one. You have no idea how much they hurt.”

  He laid a hand over her pubic mound, gently touching the nicely trimmed hair. “I can’t imagine why women feel like they need to go through such torture.”

  “Well, guys like women trimmed, or so my friend insists.”

  “Trimmed is one thing. Ripped out by the roots . . .” He flinched and leaned down to press a kiss into the crease of her thigh. “Do not feel as if you need to do so on my account. Now, I believe we were having a discussion of your oral technique.”

  She stopped squirming as he spread her legs, pulling her knees over his shoulders. “Oh, yes, please, I’d appreciate any suggestions.”

  “Here is my first suggestion.” His head dipped as his mouth closed over her sensitive parts, his tongue and fingers gently probing until he found the spot that made her grab great big handfuls of blankets and writhe with building pleasure.

  “Tell me,” he said, lifting his head, an obvious twinkle in his eye, “how do you feel about it when I put a finger into you? Would you prefer two? You’re too tight for three, but I believe two would fit nicely.”

  She glared down at him for a few seconds. “You, sir, do not play fair.”

  “Not even remotely close to it,” he agreed, moving up her so her legs were now around his waist. The tip of him nudged her, seeking entrance. “Slow and easy, or hard and fast?”

  She shifted her hips, pulling him forward until he slid into her. “Hard and fast. Always hard and fast. Make me wild, Iakovos!”

  He made her see stars, and by the time they both lay panting, exhausted by the fast and furious release, she knew that it was too late. She could live without a fabulous lover, without the sex so hot it could steam a carpet, but she couldn’t live without everything else that made up the gloriously wonderful, endlessly intriguing package that was Iakovos.

  The trick was to convince him that he couldn’t live without her.

  CHAPTER 6

  “I should check on the kids to make sure everyone is OK,” Harry told Iakovos as she started up the path from the dock to the gardens.

  “They’re adults. They’ll be fine without you for a few hours.”

  The western sky was still tinged with smears of red and orange from the sunset, the colors shifting into a violet that deepened overhead to velvety black. Night was settling around Iakovos’ little island, the exterior lights that illuminated the great white stone structure throwing amber pools on the walls, while discreetly placed solar ground lights dotted the garden, casting just enough light to see by.

  She wanted badly for him to take her hand or put his arm around her. She knew she could initiate contact, but she wanted him to be the one to make the move, wanted him to feel, as she did, that something was missing unless they were touching.

  “What utter bullshit,” she snapped at herself, and boldly took his hand.

  His fingers tightened around hers as he stopped to look at her. “They are adults, Harry—”

  “No, sorry, that ‘bullshit’ was for me, not you.”

  One side of his mouth twitched. “You were inner-monologuing again?”

  “It happens a lot, I’m afraid,” she said with a sigh. “I think all those years of writing short-circuited something in my brain. I was yelling at myself because I wanted you to want to hold my hand but I didn’t want to initiate it myself, because I thought it would somehow mean more that you wanted to hold my hand first, but then I realized that was hypocritical, because maybe you wanted me to hold your hand, but didn’t want me thinking you’re nothing but a horn-dawg, and if what I really wanted was to hold your hand, then I could just stop waiting for you to make the first move, and bloody well hold your hand and stop worrying about whether or not you wanted to hold my hand first.”

  “I could have made love to you in the time it took you to explain that,” he said, lifting their hands to his mouth so he could kiss her fingers. “Thank you for being so considerate of my feelings. Next time, I will hold your hand without worrying that you think I’m a horn-dawg.”

  “Good,” she said, smiling at him. “I’m going to check on the kids.”

  “You will be joining me later,” he said as she released his hand to move toward the south end of the garden.

  She paused and looked back at him. “Was
that a question or a statement?”

  “Both.”

  His face was in shadow, but she could hear the passion that she knew must be in his eyes. “Wild dolphins couldn’t keep me away.”

  “Wild dolphins?”

  “It sounded more Greek than wild horses.” She blew him a kiss and headed to the south.

  His voice called after her. “Harry?”

  “Yes?”

  “What exactly is a horn-dawg?”

  She laughed. She couldn’t help herself—she was just so happy. A note taped to her door reassured her that not only had Cyndi recovered from her adventures with Theo, but she was evidently well enough that she had gone off with the band for an evening of fun in the mainland town.

  Her happiness lasted until she opened the door to her bungalow and discovered she’d been robbed.

  “What the hell?” She spun around the room, her mouth hanging open, but her suitcase was gone, the swimsuit she’d left hanging in the tiny bathroom was gone, her purse with her passport and phone—all gone.

  “God damn it!” She checked the room next to hers, flinging open the door to see Amy and Derek’s things strewn all over the room in the usual disarray, but everything was present. She tried the next two doors, but those rooms hadn’t been robbed, either.

  “Dammit all to hell and back again,” she said, running across the garden toward the massive structure. She felt a little odd just barging in to Iakovos’ house when he had others there, but she knew he’d be furious to find out someone had robbed her.

  To her surprise, no one was strolling around the patio when she crossed it. No one was in the room with the billiards table, either. She paused, listening intently, but there was no sound of voices or music or laughter. Where the hell was everyone?

  “Iakovos?” she asked as she stepped into the hall. Her voice echoed hollowly.

  “Lost?”

  She spun around at the man’s voice, but her heart fell when the tall, handsome Greek who leaned against the doorway wasn’t the one she wanted. “No, I’m not lost. I was looking for Iakovos.”

  Theo pushed himself away from the door and advanced on her, a grin on his lips as he gestured toward the stairs with a glass. “He’s probably upstairs. You know where his rooms are?”

  “Yes.” She eyed him as he strolled toward her. He didn’t appear to be drunk, but something told her that he was. “I hope you’re not planning on attacking any other members of the band.”

  “I didn’t attack any of them to begin with,” he said, stopping in front of her. Her nose wrinkled at the smell of whisky.

  He caught the gesture, glanced at his glass, then back to her with the same grin. “You want a drink?”

  “No, thanks. Where is everyone?”

  “Mainland. There’s a club in town that Elena loves, so they all went off to dance the night away.” He moved closer to her, his body language making her uncomfortable. “You like dancing, beautiful?”

  She backed up a step. “Sometimes. It depends on the company. Would you happen to know if my group went with your sister?”

  “Don’t doubt they did. Elena likes people around her. I, on the other hand”—he traced the length of her arm with one finger—“prefer quiet time with just one special person.”

  He couldn’t be serious, Harry thought to herself. He couldn’t honestly think that she would be at all interested in him, could he? No, he couldn’t. It was the drink making him act this way. “And you think I’m that person?” she couldn’t help but ask, wondering just how far he’d go before she would have to deck him again.

  His eyelids dropped to give him sultry bedroom eyes. “I think you could be.”

  It was almost too easy. She felt a little unsporting, and decided that rather than waiting to see just how much of a fool he would make of himself, she’d stop it. “You’d be wrong, then.”

  “Ah.” He straightened up, took a swig of his booze, and gave her another sloppy grin. “You’re after Jake. If I told you I’ve got money, too, would you kiss me like you did him?”

  She stared at him in disbelief for a second, then tossed her head back and laughed. “You’re drunk, willing to take a woman who is sleeping with your brother, and you don’t think anything’s wrong with hurting a young girl. No, Theo, there’s not enough money in the world to convince me to kiss you. I think I’ll go find your brother and ask if he has any brain shampoo, because, honestly, I’d like to forget I even saw you tonight.”

  “Witch,” he spat, slamming his glass down on a half-moon table behind him.

  “I think you left the ‘B’ off that,” she said, brushing past him toward the stairs.

  He grabbed her breast roughly, shoving his face in hers, no doubt intending to force a kiss on her.

  Harry knocked his hand off her breast and slammed the heel of her hand into his jaw, making his head snap back. He snarled something in Greek, but she followed up with a sharp right to his nose.

  “You have got to be the stupidest man I have ever met,” she told him as he collapsed on the floor. Blood flowed out of his nose onto his white polo shirt. She stepped over his prone form and added, “I hope your nose is broken.”

  Should she mention the episode to Iakovos? she wondered as she made her way through the house to the north wing. She was of the mind that she should, because clearly Theo was close to being out of control. If the episode with Cyndi hadn’t proven that, the fact that he thought it was just fine to come on to her did. The nerve of him, hitting on her when he knew she was sleeping with Iakovos.

  She paused as a thought struck her—maybe he didn’t know. All he’d seen was her kissing Iakovos, nothing more. Perhaps Iakovos was being circumspect about their blossoming relationship, not wanting people to know they were lovers.

  She thought for a moment about the way his hand kept slipping down from her waist to her butt when they were sightseeing, and shook her head. She didn’t think he was overly concerned about keeping their status secret.

  His door loomed before her, and she stood in front of it for a minute, not knowing whether she should just walk in, or if she should knock. “Do both, you idiot,” she told herself, and gave a light tap on the door, opening it enough to stick her head in. “Iakovos?”

  The sitting room was empty. So was the dressing room attached to it, but the door to the bathroom was slightly ajar, wisps of steam curling around it. “Anyone home?” she called loudly before pushing it open.

  Iakovos stood before the mirror, a towel wrapped around his waist, shaving. “That was fast,” he said, meeting her reflection in the mirror. “Everything all right with your charges?”

  “I don’t know; they seem to have disappeared with your sister. Iakovos—”

  He cocked an eyebrow, waiting for her to continue. When she didn’t, he finished shaving and wiped his face before turning to her.

  “Your brother . . .” She remembered the conversation with him earlier. He was, she knew, a man who valued his family.

  “What about him?”

  “He’s drunk,” she finally said, coming to a quick decision. Theo might be a drunkard, but he wasn’t stupid. She had seen the glimmer of intelligence in his eyes the night before, at the hospital. Surely he would get the point that she wasn’t interested in him.

  Iakovos shrugged and ran a comb through his damp hair, brushing the silken black strands off his forehead. “He’s bound to be lit up with Elena’s crowd here. So long as he confines himself to being drunk in my home and not in town, I’m not too worried.”

  “Even if he attacks another woman?” she asked, distracted by now with the play of his muscles in his arms and chest.

  “He knows better than to attack any of Elena’s friends, and I’ve told him to mind himself where your group is concerned. You haven’t changed.”

  She looked down at her dress and suddenly remembered what had driven her there in the first place. “No, and I’m not likely to, either. I hate to tell you this, but either someone snuck onto your island
without you knowing it, or one of your sister’s friends is a thief, because all my stuff is gone. My clothes, my passport, my digital camera—all gone. I can replace everything but the passport, but it just pisses me off nonetheless.”

  He gave her an odd look, then took her arm and pulled her back through to his dressing room, throwing open one of a bank of closet doors. She peered closer and saw familiar clothing hanging next to his pants, shirts, and an abundance of suits. “Those are my clothes.”

  “I had your things moved up here while we were in Krokos,” he said with a smile that promised so much. “It just seemed more efficient than having you go back and forth.”

  “Efficient, with just a smidgen of high-handed . . . You get eight out of ten for style points,” she said, relieved that she wasn’t going to have to spend the time trying to locate her stolen passport.

  “Your bag and other things are in the sitting room,” he said. “Are you hungry?”

  “For food or for you?” she asked, sucking in her lip as she looked at his beautiful naked chest and belly.

  “I’m going to be conceited and assume you’re hungry for me. I was actually referring to food.”

  “We just ate a couple of hours ago,” she said, trying to quell the fire that threatened to consume her just by standing near him. Dammit, Harry, she scolded herself, now who’s being the horn-dawg? You can have a conversation with the man without wanting to jump his bones.

  He gave her a wry smile. “I’m a big man, sweetheart, and you’re a demanding woman. If you want me to continue to be able to do all those things you’re thinking right now, I need to eat regularly.”

  Her gaze snapped up from where she had been looking speculatively at the towel around his waist, a little heat warming her cheeks. “I’d say I’m sorry about ogling you and thinking those thoughts that you seem to know I’m thinking, although I don’t know how because I have a perfect poker face, but we would both know that I’m not at all sorry. Dinner sounds fine.”

  “Your face is many things,” he said, stepping close so he could take her chin in his fingers, his thumb stroking over her cheek, “but I suspect if you were to try to play poker with me, you’d lose very badly.”