by Maya Blake
Could I get any more primitive?
Yes, my senses screamed.
The deepening urge to claim and keep what was mine thundered harder through me, drawing me away from the naked temptation of her lips to the seductive smoothness of her throat, her vibrant pulse, the exquisite valley between her breasts.
It took but a moment to slide the thin sleeve of her sundress off her shoulder, to release the front clasp and nudge aside the cup of her bra to bare her delicious flesh to my ravenous gaze. To mould the plump mound in anticipation of drawing that stiff, rosy peak into my mouth.
Beneath me, Calypso’s breath caught. Her eyes turned a dark blue with the same fiery lust that was causing carnage within me, then snapped to mine and stayed there.
Slowly, with an ultra-feminine arching of her back that held me deeply enthralled, she offered herself to me, somehow turning the tables on me. Because for all that this was supposed to be a punitive lesson, a way to remind her who held the power now, after her actions had swung the tide to my advantage, I was caught in a vortex of desire so voracious I couldn’t have stopped even if I’d wanted to.
So I lowered my head and with a powerless groan sucked the bud into my mouth.
Savage hunger exploded inside me, all my senses lost as her fingers locked in my hair and held me to my delightful task.
‘Oh... Theos mou,’ she gasped.
The memory of our one night together, of her unreserved responsiveness and the unique way she’d expressed her pleasure, sharpened my hunger, sparking a desire to relive that experience. I slid one hand beneath her body, urged her even closer. She answered by arching higher, offering more of herself to me.
‘Tell me what you’re feeling,’ I urged thickly, aware that my voice was hoarse, barely intelligible.
She froze, the eyes that had rolled shut mere seconds ago flying open.
Watching her, I lazily caught that peak between my teeth, felt a carnal shudder unravel through her. ‘You taste exquisite.’
Arousal and denial warred in her face, and then her fingers flew from my hair as small but effective hands pushed at my shoulders. ‘No! Stop!’
For a moment I considered a different tactic. Negotiation. Talking her round to my way of thinking. Satisfying this need that dogged us both. But hadn’t my family and I given the Petrases enough in this lifetime? This was supposed to be the time to extract my pound of flesh after what they’d done to my grandfather. Besides, sex was what had led us here in the first place. Was I really going to fall into the well of temptation I’d counselled myself against a year ago when I should be dealing with the reality of my son?
The reminder was enough to propel me off her and across the room. Even then it took several control-gathering breaths to master my raging libido. It didn’t help that her reflection in the window showed her naked breasts for another handful of seconds before she righted her clothes.
When she was done, she rose. She didn’t approach—which was a good thing, because I wasn’t sure I wouldn’t have given in to the urge to finish what we’d started.
‘Axios...’
I gritted my teeth, the discovery that my name on her lips was its own special brand of hell driving my fingers through my hair.
This had gone on long enough. ‘This is no longer purely business, Calypso. I want to know my son.’
I caught another expression on her face—one that sent a different type of emotion charging through me.
I turned around, wanting to verify it more accurately, but whatever it was had gone, her face a composed mask.
‘Of course. I won’t stand in the way of that.’
Why didn’t that agreement satisfy me?
Why did that hollowness still remain?
‘Good. Then we shelve discussion of divorce until further notice.’
* * *
That gruff, shaken tone was gone. It was almost as if that little display of emotion over his son had never happened. As if the wild little tumble on the sofa less than five minutes ago was already a distant memory.
But, no...there were tell-tale signs. Signs I didn’t want to notice. Like how deliciously tousled his dark, luxuriously wavy hair was now, courtesy of my restless fingers. How colour still rose in his chiselled cheekbones.
And that definitive bulge behind his fly—
With a willpower that threatened to sap the last of my composure I averted my gaze from the pillar of temptation he represented, and reminded myself why we were here in the first place. Dear heaven. I needed to be done with this before the desire I’d believed eroded by distance and absence made a complete fool of me.
‘I need your word, Calypso.’
The implacable demand centred my thoughts. Reminded me that this wasn’t over. Contrary to what I’d believed, twelve months of living apart from him had done nothing to lessen my sentence. I was back to square one, with a child to think about.
A child Axios fully intended to claim.
‘Where exactly does Andreos feature in your grand plan?’ I asked, belatedly focusing on the most precious thing in my life. On safeguarding his welfare before I embarked on fighting for my survival.
Axios’s head went back, as if the question offended him. ‘He is my son. He will be brought up under our care with the full benefit of the Xenakis name at his disposal for as long as he needs it.’
Through all of this I’d held on to the secret fear that Andreos might suffer. Over the past year I’d meticulously researched the Xenakis dynasty, with Andreos’s needs at the forefront of my mind.
Outwardly, they appeared a close unit—but, as with most super-wealthy and influential families, rumours of acrimony abounded. Once or twice it had been rumoured that Axios’s status as CEO had been challenged by a daring cousin or uncle. None had succeeded, of course.
‘You give me your word that you’ll protect Andreos, no matter what?’
‘Of course. I vow it.’ His voice was deep and solemn and immediate.
Relief weakened my knees, and for some absurd reason I wanted to throw my arms around him. ‘Thank you.’
His frown deepened, speculation narrowing his eyes. I turned away before he could read my anxiety. Now wasn’t the time to think about my precarious health...about the tough road ahead. About the battle my grandmother had fought against cervical cancer and eventually lost.
And it certainly wasn’t the time to dwell on the fact that the pain in my abdomen remained, its presence edging into my consciousness with each passing day.
‘Possible cancer... Prognosis uncertain if you choose to keep your baby...’
Dr Trudeau’s words broke free from the vault I’d kept them in. Along with the frighteningly easy decision I’d made to keep my baby for as long as I could instead of chasing risky surgery. The tearful gratitude for every day Andreos had nestled in my womb, growing despite the unknown threat to his life and mine.
And his sweet cry the moment he was born.
I’d learned quickly that for my son’s sake I needed to compartmentalise. His keen intelligence and sensitivity, even at such a tender age, had focused me on giving him my very best—always. But giving him my best included fighting to remain in his life. Even if I had to temporarily entrust him to Axios in order to do so.
‘Do you agree?’ Axios pressed, his gaze probing mercilessly.
‘I’ll give you what you want on one condition. Take it or leave it.’
After a moment he jerked his head in command for me to continue.
‘I’ll stay until your precious deal is done. On condition that you don’t attempt to interfere in my relationship with my son.’
‘What gives you the impression that I’d wish to do anything of the sort?’
My shrug fell short of full efficiency under his heavy frown. ‘It’s been known to happen.’
‘Who? Your father?’
I could have denied it, kept up the years-long pretence. But time was too precious to waste on falsehoods. So I nodded. ‘Yes.’
Axios moved towards me, his frown a dark cloud. ‘What did he do to you?’
I hesitated now, because on the flipside I didn’t want to bare my all to him. The desire to continue living on my own terms hadn’t diminished an iota since my return to Greece. And even if I intended to agree to Axios’s demands I would always keep one small corner of my life free from his interference.
‘He manipulated every relationship I ever had in some way. I don’t want that to happen with Andreos.’
The grey gaze boring into mine stated blatantly that he wanted more. Mine declared I’d given him all I intended to.
‘I’ve seen you with Andreos. He thrives under your care. I’d be a fool to jeopardise that.’
Before I could breathe my relief he stepped closer, bringing that bristling magnificence into touching distance. I balled fingers that tingled with the need to feel his vibrant skin under my touch again.
‘You have my word I will not interfere. Will you give me yours?’
Again I was mildly stunned that it was a question rather than a declaration. But the searing reminder that giving in to one emotion around Axios was simply the gateway to a flood of other sensations I needed to keep a tight leash on, had me swallowing the desire.
‘I will stay for as long as it takes to give you what you need,’ I offered.
He accepted it with a simple nod, as if it was nothing to celebrate. And perhaps in the grand scheme of things it wasn’t. We were picking up where we’d left off with the added inconvenience of needing to put out more fires than he’d initially anticipated.
After several skin-tingling moments during which he simply stared at me, as if probing beneath my defences to read my secrets, I twisted away, eager to escape those all-seeing eyes.
‘I need to get back to Andreos.’
‘We’re not quite done, Calypso.’
About to ask what else we needed to talk about, I felt my tight throat close even further when he stepped closer. His scent curled around me, reminding me of what had happened on the sofa a short while ago. Had things really got out of hand so quickly? My body still hummed with unspent energy, and my heart hadn’t quite settled into its steady cadence.
‘I’ll come with you to visit my son.’
The throb of possessiveness in his voice sent my senses flaring wide with warning. What exactly that warning was refused to surface as we left his suite.
As it turned out it wasn’t necessary to return to the ground floor. Sophia was carefully navigating the stairs, with a sleepy Andreos in her arms. We followed her as she entered the opposite wing of the villa, where a nursery had been set up by a team of designers on the first day of my return.
Seeing us, she smiled. ‘We played for a while, but I think he’s ready for his nap, kyria,’ she said softly.
The sight of Andreos fighting a losing battle to stay awake drew a smile from my heart. Handing him over to Sophia even for such a short while had made my heart ache. I knew it would be a million times worse when I had to leave, but somehow I trusted Axios with his care. Sophia’s clear devotion to him was an added bonus.
I reached out for him but Axios stepped forward.
‘Do you mind?’ The demand was gruff but gentle.
In stunned surprise I nodded. Still smiling, Sophia handed son over to father and discreetly melted away.
The sight of Axios holding his son for the first time shouldn’t have brought a thick lump to my throat. The sight of his strong, powerful arms carefully cradling my baby, his throat moving in a convulsive swallow, shouldn’t have fired a soul-deep yearning through my body. A yearning for things to be different. For fate not to be so cruel.
Why? Did I wish for things to be different between Axios and I?
Absolutely not.
As for other yearnings—hadn’t I already been granted more than enough? I’d prayed for a healthy son and been given the child of my heart. I’d prayed for a little more time and had enjoyed almost four beautiful months.
But the thought of leaving him, even to fight for my health—
‘What’s wrong?’
I jumped, my gaze rising to see Axios watching me.
‘Am I holding him wrong?’
The touch of uncertainty in his voice caught a warm spot inside me and loosened another smile from me as I approached, unable to stop myself from reaching out, kissing Andreos’s forehead and cheek, breathing in his sweet and innocent scent.
‘No, you’re not doing anything wrong.’
Grey eyes so very similar to his son’s dropped to the now sleeping Andreos, and his chest slowly expanded in a long breath before he headed over to the brand-new, state-of-the-art cot set out for our baby.
With the utmost care he transferred Andreos from his arms to the cot, barely eliciting any protest from him. Arms thrown up beside his head in angelic abandon, Andreos slept on as his father draped a soft cotton blanket over him, drew a gentle finger down his cheek and straightened.
Still smiling, I glanced over at Axios—and my heart leapt into my throat. Gone was the gentle look he’d bestowed on his son. In its place was a bleak visage full of loss and yearning that made me gasp. Made that pulse of guilt rise again.
The sound drew his attention to me. When he took hold of my arm and steered me out of earshot I tried to think past the naked tingles his touch brought. To think how I could contain the relentless waves of turbulent emotion bent on consuming us.
‘I’d like answers to a few questions, Calypso. If you feel so inclined?’ he rasped.
Seeing no way to avoid it without collapsing the agreement I’d struck, I nodded.
His hand dropped to my wrist. ‘We’ll discuss this further over lunch.’
Lunch was an extensive selection of meze fit for a small banquet—not the intimate setting for two laid out on one of the three sun-splashed terraces.
Axios must have spotted my surprise as he pulled out my chair because he shrugged. ‘I didn’t know your preferences so I instructed the chef to prepare a large selection.’
‘Oh...thank you.’
His gaze rested on me as he lowered himself into his own chair. ‘Again, you sound surprised. Believe it or not I want things to go as smoothly as possible for both of us.’
The knowledge that this included simple things such as what I ate widened the warm pool swelling inside me. Even cautioning myself that it was foolish to entertain such a sensation didn’t do anything to stem it as I helped myself to pitta bread and tzatziki, feta cheese and chickpea salad and succulent vine leaves stuffed with lamb and cucumber.
‘Where was Andreos born?’
His deep voice throbbed with one simple emotion—a hunger to know. And for the very first time since my decision to live life on my terms, twelve long months ago, I experienced a deep stirring of guilt.
But along with that came a timely warning not to divulge everything. Knowledge was power to men like Axios. Men like my father. And every precious uninterrupted moment with my son was as vital to me as the breath in my lungs.
Although in the past four days since my return, Axios had seemed a little more...malleable. While the man who’d laid down the law and walked away from me in Agistros still lurked in there somewhere, this Axios tended to ask more and command less.
But still I carefully selected the bits of information that wouldn’t connect too many dots for him and replied, ‘He was born in a small clinic in Kenya, where I was volunteering. He came a week early, but there were no complications and the birth was relatively easy.’
He didn’t answer. Not immediately. The glass of red wine he was drinking with his meal remained cradled in his hand and his expression reflective and almost...yearning as he stared into the middle distance.
>
‘I would’ve liked to be there,’ he rasped. ‘Very much.’
The warm pool inside me grew hotter, turning into a jet of feeling spiralling high with emotions I needed to wrestle under control before they got out of hand.
But even as the warning hit hard I was opening my mouth, uttering words I shouldn’t. ‘One of the nurses filmed the birth...if you’d like to see it?’
What are you doing sharing your most precious moments with him?
He’s Andreos’s father.
Axios inhaled sharply, the glass discarded as he stared fiercely at me. ‘You have a video?’
I jerked out a nod. ‘Yes. Would you—?’
‘Yes.’ The word was bullet-sharp, and the cadence of his breathing altered as his gaze bored into me. ‘Yes. Very much,’ he repeated.
For the longest time we remained frozen, our gazes locked in a silent exchange I didn’t want to examine or define. Soon it morphed into something else. Something equally intimate. Twice as dangerous.
Perhaps it was in the molten depths of his eyes, or in the not so secret wish to relive what had happened upstairs ramping up that ever-present chemistry. Whatever it was, we’d brought it alive on that sofa and now it sat between us, a writhing wire ready to sizzle and electrify and burn at the smallest hint of weakening.
Forcing my brain back on track didn’t help. Hadn’t we been discussing childbirth? The product of what had happened in a bedroom the last time we were both present in one.
‘I’ll let you have the recording after lunch,’ I blurted, then picked up my water glass and drank simply to distract myself.
From the corner of my eye I watched him lounge back in his seat, although his body still held that coil of tension that never dissipated.
After a moment he picked up his glass and drained it. ‘Efkharisto,’ he murmured. ‘Now, on to other things. Arrangements are being made to equip you with a new wardrobe. My mother tells me the things you left behind are hopelessly out of date.’
