A Perfect Man: International Billionaires IV: The Greeks

by Caro LaFever

  Only Sophia, of all the women in his life, objected to his care and his plans.

  Not knowing how to process whether this was good or not, he swept the paper cup out of her hand and drank the last of her chocolate. The liquid was no longer hot, only semi-warm, and the effect made the notes of ginger and spice even tastier.

  “Hey.” His firecracker batted his arm. “That was mine.”

  “You were drinking too slow.” He threw the cup away and grabbed her hand. “We’ve got places to go, Mademoiselle.”

  He hustled her all the way to the Seine and didn’t decrease his pace until they got to the cobblestoned pathway running along the river. Compared to the crowds they’d left on Champs-Élysées, there were few people around. The surge of the water's flow could be heard here and the street lamps gave off a cheery gleam.

  “Where are we going?” she said, her breath a bit rushed.

  Alex slanted a devilish look at her and got her usual annoyed look back. But now he saw the layer of camaraderie too. A bright glow settled inside of him, even though her continued rejection still hurt.

  He wasn’t used to rejection.

  Instant frustration twisted around the bright glow, making him feel all muddled inside. She made him all muddled inside. The knowledge pushed him to accelerate his pace even more.

  She puffed by his side and, remarkably, didn’t voice a complaint.

  He led her across Pont de l’Alma, its modern lines a contrast to the glory of the ancient buildings surrounding it. Finally, their destination came into view. The tower rose into the sky, bathed in golden light. Just as they hit the Left Bank, as he’d hoped, the tower began its hourly show.

  “Oh.” She stopped and stared at the white shimmering lights flickering across the entire tower. “Oh!”

  “That seems to be your response to almost everything in Paris,” he teased.

  “Not everything.” Her narrowed gaze flashed to him, looking him up and down in a clear message.

  A message he should have laughed at, should have simply shrugged off. Still, somewhere along the way into this convoluted relationship with Sophia, he’d begun to care what she thought of him.

  Care a lot.

  A throb of hurt coursed through him.

  Then, she laughed. One of her belly laughs that made him want to snatch her near and kiss her until she was breathless from him and not the pace of his walking.

  Muddled was not the word. Muddled gave a person the sense that nothing much was at stake.

  Tortured.

  The word popped into his head.

  A line of sweat immediately coated his spine.

  “Come on.” He waved at her, keeping a yard between them, the temptation too great, the fear of what she did to him too stark. “If you’re going to act like a child, I have just the place for you.”

  Sophia scrunched her nose at him, but obediently followed as he walked the last few blocks to the park surrounding the tower. As he expected, the fancy, elaborate merry-go-round was there, exactly as it had always been in his childhood visits at Christmas. The organ pumped out a stately tune as the gaily painted horses bobbed up and down in the spill of light. On top of the carousal, a bright golden ball twirled around and around, making him as dizzy as it had when he’d been a child.

  “You must have loved this as a kid.” She came up to stand by him.

  “As a kid?” He finally let himself touch her, taking her hand, because he’d be safe here in a sea of chattering tourists. “I love it now.”

  Laughing, she followed his lead and gamely scrambled onto a white horse painted with a stream of red roses on its neck. His steed was almost as impressive, a black stallion with purple reins and saddle.

  The organ lurched into another rousing tune and they began to move, faster and faster. Alex kept his focus on her, taking in her pleasure as her little round face lit with childlike enchantment. As her cocoa eyes heated with warm delight. As her ponytail bounced on her back, a gleam of dark magic.

  He wanted her mouth on his.

  He wanted those eyes warmed by him.

  He wanted to take her hair down and run his fingers through the silky strands.

  “What?” she yelled above the music. “Do I have something on my face?”

  Alex shook his head. At her. And at his incessant need.

  She’d said no to his kiss. No to his cock. No to any licking of any kind.

  No. Get it, Stravoudas? No.

  The organ wound down and the ride slowly came to a halt. They both climbed off their horses and jumped from the platform at the same time, landing too close to each other for his liking. He took off across the dead grass and onto the sidewalk, setting a punishing pace, even for him.

  “Where are we going now?” She raced behind him, panting.

  “Back to the apartment,” he ground out. Sexual tension boiled inside, blurring his irritated affection into a foaming mass of frustration. He couldn’t be with her anymore. He didn’t want to watch her and want her. Not anymore.

  “Hey.” A tiny hand grabbed his elbow and tugged at him.

  He kept walking.

  “Hey!” The tug became a yank. For such a little thing, she was strong. Baking all day, every day, meant she had sculpted shoulders and firm arms. His imagination instantly took over and blasted him a picture of her naked: her back turned slightly away, her shoulders sloping into languid arms, so loose on her body he saw the beginning of her breasts.

  The erection was inevitable.

  Again, here he was, walking down a street acting like a fool.

  Another yank pulled him to a complete stop and she foolishly poked her face right into his. “What is wrong with you?”

  Frustration zipped from bubbling to a full-on boil. But he tried. He tried to be a gentleman. “Let me go.”

  “No.” A concerned frown crossed her face. “I want to help.”

  “No, you don’t.” His voice came hoarse and he realized he panted too. Like he raced toward a goal he could never achieve.

  “Of course I do.” Her bow mouth pouted and he thought the top of both of his heads might blow past the tower looming in the background. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

  She didn’t understand his meaning. If she did, she’d be running away from him. Before he could shout at her, tell her she needed to let him go before he took, the wail of a single violin pierced through their argument. Along with it came the whip of the night wind, a sprinkle of rain misting on the edge.

  Neither cooled his temper or his lust.

  The rain only reminded him of how hot he was for this woman who kept saying she didn’t want him.

  The music? The music made it all ten times worse. The violinist stood up the path from them, eyes closed, lost in the song and in the emotion. Alex didn’t recognize the melody, but he did recognize the emotion welling in the tune.

  Longing.

  “Nothing is wrong.” He pulled his arm out of her grasp. Turning away from her, he looked around, trying to find his way out of intense desire. To his amazement, there weren’t any tourists near them. No laughing Parisians with their children either. No cover, no crowd to fade into, no hope of keeping this inside.

  Only him and Sophia.

  And the wail of the violin.

  “We’ll dance.” She grasped his arm once more and swung to stand right in front of him.

  Instant rage at the memory of another one of her rejections surged into his blood. Leaning closer, he spat the heated words right into her determined face. “You don’t want to dance with me.”

  “I do.” A flutter of the same memory must have crossed her mind because her mouth firmed. “I’m sorry I didn’t at our engagement party, yet now I do.”

  “You were very clear.” He tried to tear himself away, but her hands tightened on his arm and the anger inside wouldn’t let him leave until he’d spilled it out. “We wouldn’t fit, you said. I remember.”

  “We’ll fit now.” Her words were strong.

  The v
iolin’s plaintive song rose in a poignant plea. The wind kissed his skin with the soft touch of rain. As he glared into Sophia’s cocoa eyes, all Alex wanted to do was stop this constant tug inside him between want and anger.

  She took his hand and lifted her own to his hunched shoulder. “Come on,” she said. “We can do this.”

  Moving into the circle of his body, she seemed to slide right into an empty niche he hadn’t even realized he possessed. An empty spot inside himself that had waited for this round, stubborn spirit to fill.

  He sucked in a deep breath.

  “Alex.” She glanced up, her expression alive with the firecracker soul he’d come to know so well. “Move.”

  Her breasts and hips were covered in layers of cotton and wool. His trench coat was firmly tied and he had his own layers of cotton and denim beneath. Every cell in his body felt her warmth and heat, though. Felt her sex and seductive call.

  He wanted to move. Move inside her over and over again.

  She couldn’t know what she did to him. If she did, she’d be a block away, walking quickly toward the apartment and safety. “Sophia. You don’t want to do this.”

  “I do.” Her stubborn chin lifted. “Put your arms around me.”

  All gentlemanly walls broke loose inside him. He grabbed her hips in a tight grip, yanking her closer. His glare met two wide brown eyes. “This isn’t about dancing,” he snarled. “Do you understand me?”

  The violin suddenly stopped on a discordant chord. The musician coughed before shuffling off into the darkness.

  She took a step back. “You ruined it.”

  “Right.” He laughed, harsh and low. “Just keep telling yourself that.”

  Another step back. “Let go of me.”

  “Sure.” Alex dropped his hands like she was a fizzling, out-of-control explosive. “Whatever you want.” Turning, he strode out of the park, past a group of chattering Chinese tourists, down the wide sidewalk.

  Her hand grabbed his elbow and wrenched him around once more. “I don’t understand you,” she wailed.

  “I think you understand me very well.” He tried to shake her off, but she clung. “I don’t want to dance with you, Sophia. I want to fuck you.”

  Her bow mouth dropped open.

  “This can’t be a surprise to you.” He jerked his arm again and this time she let him go. “You’ve been clear you don’t want me, however.”

  “I didn’t—”

  “And that’s fine with me,” he gritted. “It’s not like I don’t have other options.”

  His last words were all bravado, but he’d be damned before he gave this woman any more of his pride or himself.

  The only thing he wanted to do was go back to his family’s place and drink an entire bottle of wine. Or maybe two. Then he’d forget about the driving need he had for this woman and along with it, the driving disquiet he felt about signing with the emir. Skatá, it would be better if he had a large jug of ouzo to drown himself in. He’d be oblivious for days.

  He should go to Greece, to his bolthole.

  Jamming the thought to the back of his brain, he turned to stalk away.

  “Alex.”

  He still felt a bolt of shock when she said his nickname. The way she licked it at the beginning and flicked it at the end. The shock stopped him and he looked over reluctantly.

  Her plump hands were clenched in front of her, her eyes dark and desperate. Before he could wrap his mind around what that meant, she glanced away, her long lashes hiding her gaze from him.

  “What?” His exasperation exploded in the one word.

  “That’s the problem.”

  He turned to face her fully. “What’s the problem?”

  “You have so many other options.” Her hands flew to her mouth as if the words shouldn’t have been said.

  He frowned. What the hell? Hadn’t she noticed that since she’d arrived on demand in his life, he hadn’t paid any attention to any other female to the point that all he now wanted was her? “Have I been running around with other women while you’ve been with me, Sophia?”

  “No.” She sighed. “But that’s not really the point.”

  “It is the point.” He shoved his hands in his pockets before he reached over to shake her. “There’s another point too.”

  “What?” Her hands fluttered down to her pockets.

  “It’s not like you don’t also have other options.” He sneered as the memories flooded his jealous brain. “That Frenchman. The emir’s son. Hell, my partner would say yes to you in a moment.”

  “I don’t want any of them.”

  “And you don’t want me.” Alex was done with this conversation because it was going officially nowhere. He twisted away from her and aimed his sights on the street that led to home.

  “I do, Alex.” The words were said so faintly and hesitantly, he almost missed them. “You know I do.”

  Maybe his ears almost missed the confession, but his heart didn’t. He swiveled around to stare at her.

  “Come on.” Her lips pursed. “Look how I kiss you.”

  The movement of her mouth blew back the memories of the passion of her response. Along with the memories came his own passion. His blood heated against his will and his damn erection surged, even though he wanted to feel nothing more than coldness for this woman. “Yet, Sophia, you reject me every time.”

  “I know.” She hesitated, a frown crossing her brow. “Because I’m scared.”

  This confession blew him skyward. “What? You’re scared of me?”

  Her bow mouth twisted. “You’re too much for me, Alex.”

  A bark of laughter escaped him. This, this from a woman who’d flipped his world into the air and twirled it around on the tip of her finger. Twirled and twirled until he’d become so dizzy he couldn’t figure out where he should be and what he should be.

  “Don’t laugh at me.” His firecracker bristled and fizzed.

  Marching right into her crackling energy, he leaned in to stare directly into her cocoa eyes. “You’re too much for me too, Sophie.”

  Her eyes widened, a flicker of affection springing to life. “What?”

  “You heard me.” He hovered over her, letting her into him. “You blew everything in my life up.”

  “I know.” Her gaze grew dim with misery. “I appreciate what you said earlier, but I’m still sorry—”

  “And I’m glad you did, Sophie.” He made himself look straight at her.

  “Honestly?” The misery swept away and the chocolate warmth came back.

  “Yeah.”

  They stood under the tower, the city for lovers surrounding them in a sparkle of hope, a sprinkle of rain, a sliver of desire.

  Her brows finally lifted. “You called me Sophie. Twice.”

  “It seemed like now was a good time.” He couldn’t help the glance down. Her mouth wasn’t glossy with lipstick. It didn’t beckon with artificial curves. All her little mouth did was be there; natural and wonderful.

  “Kiss me,” the little mouth whispered.

  He looked back into her eyes. “This time I won’t stop at a kiss, krotída mou.”

  A thousand emotions and thoughts brushed across her face and he held his breath. He felt as if this moment, this time, was more important than any other single second of his life.

  His brain yelled at him to say something smooth and charming.

  His erection yelled at him to take the kiss and everything else.

  His heart stuttered.

  She smiled, a shy, lovely smile that twisted his heart inside his chest and flipped it over for good measure. “Okay.”

  With one word, his firecracker had launched him right past the moon and into the burning embrace of the sun.

  Chapter 16

  Her lover was beautiful.

  She’d known he would be. After all, he was The Perfect Man. Yet she hadn’t realized the sight of Alex naked would make her want to lie back on his bed and spend the rest of her life ogling.

&nb
sp; He glanced at her as he dropped his boxers on the floor. His wide mouth held the sultry slant she’d grown to need and his eyes gleamed in the shadowed bedroom, reflecting the glow of the streetlights outside. “Like what you see?”

  The words were sly along with his smile, but she caught the whisper of vulnerability underneath. Or she thought she did. Or maybe she was completely crazy. Because this was Alexander the Great. A man who could have any woman he wanted.

  Including her.

  The thought made her grumpy, which was much better than feeling overwhelmed by his magnificence. “Dropping your clothes on the floor, Stravoudas? How messy. Tut-tut.”

  He looked down and then back at her. The sly smile widened. “Another change you’ve made in me. I can’t wait to see what you do next.”

  Sophie clutched the silver sateen duvet to her chest and bit her lower lip. She didn’t know if she wanted to do anything next. Because if she did, her heart whispered, this whole thing, this whole relationship could devastate her.

  But she’d promised.

  And if she reneged, Alex would be more than mad. He’d be hurt.

  Why couldn’t she just let this happen as she had with her smattering of other boyfriends? She’d never felt any real anxiety about sex. Not really. Not much. She’d made sure the lights were out and she’d focused on the kissing and everything had always seemed to go fine.

  Why was she making this so difficult?

  The lights were out, mostly, though she certainly had an eyeful of perfect Alex. He would come over and kiss her soon. He was only a man. Like every other man.

  Except he wasn’t.

  The punch of this realization made her heart bound around in her chest while her skin went cold.

  This wasn’t about sex for her.

  Not at all.

  This was something far more important, her heart wailed. This further realization made her breath freeze in her throat.

  “Sophie?” He paced toward the bed, his shoulders appearing much broader naked than they did in a suit coat. The long, lean length of him staggered her: the muscularity of his biceps, the roll of his angular hips, the sinewy strength of his thighs. “What are you thinking?”