by Caro LaFever
“Aaah,” he gasped, then groaned. His body curved around hers, and she felt the sweet, hot surge of his orgasm inside her as his hips pumped once, and once more.
Everything inside her went still as if the world had ended and begun at this moment. The mist wafted around them, the gentle silky feel of it smoothing over their skin. Intermixed with the mist, a few snowflakes sifted down, melting before they landed on the pond.
His chest moved on her back, an inhalation, a breath out. His hands loosened their tight grip on her hips and brushed across her sides and breasts.
Sophie quivered with delight.
She didn’t want this moment to end, this time where he and she were together, not only physically, but she hoped and prayed…emotionally…spiritually.
The knowledge zinged straight to her heart once more.
She loved him.
When she’d been taking her clothes off in front of him, she’d been more focused on reaching him. Yes, it had been a risk, yet in the heat of her actions, she hadn’t been thinking of her emotional state, she’d been thinking of his.
But now it fully hit her.
Taking off her clothes hadn’t been only about pulling his attention away from his pain. The action had been about exposing herself to him entirely.
Physically. Emotionally. And spiritually.
He moved behind her in a sudden, wrenching motion. As he slipped out of her, she took a big gulp of air, then straightened and turned to meet her lover and her love.
He glowered at her with bright, azure eyes.
Not quite what she’d expected after the best sexual experience of her life. He stood, the water to his waist, the mist streaking down his heaving, broad chest, looking like a Greek god come to life. An angry god ready to throw down some lightning bolts.
“Alex—”
“Look what you’ve done.” His hands fisted by his side.
“I’m not the only one who did some things a few minutes ago.” She gave him a wry smile. He was upset, but she knew him well now. He was more upset at himself than her. “And they were lovely things you did.”
His eyes went from bright to fierce. “You made me do those things. I warned you.”
“Are you listening to me?” Her temper bubbled as it always did around this man. Along with it, came the usual desire trailing right behind. Another thing that always happened around this man. “I loved what we just did.”
“You’re crazy.” He slapped the water with his hand making her jump. “I attacked you.”
“Alex—”
“Hell.” His expression went blank as his skin whitened. Big, brute hands reached up to scrape through his golden curls as if he were about to tear out his hair. “We didn’t even use a condom.”
Oops. Well, that had never happened before. She’d always been conscientious regarding birth control and disease. A whisper of unease went through her. After all, this was The Perfect Man. He might have not done anything with Melanie, yet there’d been the month after… “Should I be worried?”
“Not if your aim is to get pregnant,” he snarled. “Though that might put a bit of a crimp in your all-important business, Sophia.”
“I meant disease.” She was on the pill, so she didn’t have a lot of worry about pregnancy, but this guy was a player. Or had been.
His eyes widened with surprise and then narrowed into lasers of blue steel. “I told you Melanie and I—”
“You had a month after the split to fool around.” She suddenly felt her nakedness like a brand. Wrapping her arms around her chest, she managed to give him an accusing squint. “Plus, what’s not to say you haven’t been doing some stuff on the side while we’ve been—”
“No.” His mouth went grim. “You can’t believe that.”
No, she couldn’t believe that. Alex might be arrogant and full of himself sometimes, still, at heart, he was an honorable man. A gentleman.
“I’m sorry,” she sputtered. How had they come to this? After the best lovemaking in all of eternity, here they were throwing insults at each other when they should be kissing and cuddling and making love again. “I don’t believe—”
“Then there’s you.” His jaw clenched. “You with your fancy Frenchmen slathering all over you. Who’s to say you don’t have some kind of disease?”
“Slathering?” The charge was so absurd it shot right past her temper and triggered her funny bone.
She giggled.
He went rigid.
Uh, oh.
“You know what, Sophia?” Jerking around, he waded to the edge of the pool and climbed out. He grabbed a towel and wiped it down his front as he turned to confront her.
“What?” She probably didn’t want to hear what he was going to say, but since he clearly was going to say it no matter what, she might as well be a part of the conversation.
“You.” He threw the towel over his naked shoulder. “Can go fuck yourself.”
He stalked off, his long, curly hair flowing behind him. A golden god, all pissed off, with the best ass on earth or heaven.
Sinking into the hot pool, she thought about being angry. But her body still hummed with lusty energy for only one man and her brain finally understood Alexander the Great. Understood this man could be more of a dick to himself than anyone else around him. “I’d rather make love to you, Alex.”
* * *
He was a fucking animal.
His father and grandfather would have said far worse. He didn’t even want to think about his maman and her reaction to what he’d just done.
The last of his lust disappeared.
The air was crisp and cold, and yet, Alex swore he saw steam coming off his naked body. His angry body. The inevitable desire for Sophie might have temporarily been dispelled, but the anger he held for her still stood.
She’d done this. She’d driven him to this.
Pacing up to his place, he slammed the door open and then closed. Even though he hated this loss of control, this loss of himself and what he believed himself to be, it still felt impossibly good to be something other than…
Perfect.
He snorted as he stomped up the wooden stairs to the loft. He had no claim to that damn title, not now. Not ever again. Not when Sophia Feuer was anywhere around him.
Rushing into the bathroom and twisting the shower on, he stuck his head into the splash of warm water.
He growled.
He didn’t deserve warm water and if he had to make a bet, Sophie wouldn’t slink off into the woods. Hell, no. By the look in her brown eyes as he yelled at her, she’d be plowing into his hideout in a matter of minutes.
He wrenched the water to ice cold.
God damn it. She’d taken all of her clothes off right in front of him. In broad daylight.
Where had the tragic story gone?
How could a man be expected to deal with that in a civilized way? How could anyone expect he’d be able to hold onto his composure and make love to her like a man should love a woman? Especially with this damned frustration and confusion swirling inside him.
And double God damn it. She’d inspected his sketches. The stupid, silly, dreamy sketches he only did when he had some free time. Like the stupid, silly, dreamy teenager he’d once been and now rarely thought about.
Until lately.
He shivered as the water slid down his body.
No one could blame him for what he’d done.
Except himself.
The memories stormed back even as he tried to keep them at bay. The delicious, delicate line of her spine as she arched into him. Her lush round ass filling his hands as he watched himself going in and out of her. The sounds she made as she came, as her body wrapped around his, pulling him into an erotic black hole he only found himself diving into when he made love with Sophie.
The way his fingers dug into her skin.
The way he’d pushed her into the limestone and marble.
The way he’d banged inside her like an out-of-control teenage
r.
He’d dreamed of her like that, given to him like a plump, perfect prize. But his dream had never included the images of her fighting to keep afloat or the regret and rage roiling inside him now.
Cursing under his breath, he turned off the water and grabbed another towel. He needed to get dressed quick. He needed to have armor on when he next saw Sophia.
“Stravoudas?” Her sassy voice pierced the bathroom door he’d slammed behind him. “Come out here. I have something to show you.”
God help him. He didn’t want to see whatever she had on show because he’d make another bet. A bet that he’d show her another piece of his fucking animal within two seconds of her show.
“Come on,” she coaxed. “Don’t be afraid.”
The taunt blasted his temper high into the mountain sky. He might be an animal, but he wasn’t afraid. He never was afraid.
The bathroom door whacked back onto the wall. “Sophia, you better—”
The air in his lungs whooshed out.
“Hi.” She stood at the side of his bed, her cocoa eyes dark and dreamy, her smile pure paradise, her brown hair lit from behind by the soft, snowy light coming from the window.
She was entirely naked.
Again.
He scowled. “Put on some clothes.”
“You don’t have any on. Why should I?”
Before he could cudgel his brain into an appropriate response, she swayed over to him, her luscious hips swinging, sucking every thought from his head.
Except one.
There were smudges on those female hips. The beginning of a string of bruises made by his fingers. A howl of rage filled his mind, blanking everything out besides disgust and despair.
He’d bruised her.
Not again. He wouldn’t do it again.
“Stop,” he croaked.
She ignored his instruction just as she had at the pond. Instead, she walked into his space, fitting right into him, filling the air between them with the spicy scent of evergreen and the sweet smell of vanilla.
His brain lurched to work. He grabbed for anything. “I guess the tragic story is no more,” he snapped.
That stopped her. The delicate lace of her brows furrowed.
Alex took in a relieved breath. She’d leave now, she’d go. He wouldn’t hurt her again.
“Hmm.” She cocked her head, her hair sliding down one round, freckled shoulder. “I guess so.”
No. NO. She needed to leave and be safe and tell him the tragic story so he could fix it for her and redeem himself. “You—”
“Hey.” One small hand landed on his chest. “I’ll tell you the story if you want. But it doesn’t matter right now.”
She smiled at him and something in her eyes stopped his arguments, stopped his soul. Some tender, fluttery thing around the edge of the cocoa. Some fragile, delicate emotion he didn’t want to break.
“Sophie,” he whispered.
Her hand slipped down to his hand and she tugged him toward the bed. “Come on, Alex. Show me the real you again.”
Chapter 20
Alex woke to the sweet smell of paprika mixed with the stinging scent of onion.
His eyes blinked open.
Greece. His place. Nighttime, because the only light he saw came from downstairs and it was the warm, mellow glow from the fireplace added to the brighter lights from the kitchen.
His nose twitched. His stomach rumbled.
His ears heard her humming drifting from below.
Sophie.
Alex rolled over, taking the sheets with him. He was naked, which was usual for him when he slept, but he hadn’t been sleeping in this bed.
Or not only sleeping.
She’d taken his hand and led him right back to his animal. He’d found himself lying on this bed, crying out as her little bow mouth slid and slipped across his skin, across his nipples, across his cock. He’d lost all control once more and proved to himself he couldn’t be perfect for her. Yet she’d moaned and sighed and when it was all over, she’d told him she loved it. Loved it when he was an animal.
She’d said those exact words.
“I love it when you lose it, Alex.” She’d smiled at him as she brushed the palm of her hand along the shadow of hair on his jaw. “I love it when you’re an animal.”
He shook his head.
Women.
No, it was more like…
Woman.
Sophie.
“Hey.” He stared at the beamed ceiling, waiting for her reply. With his gaze, he traced the black oak beams inlaid on the white plaster as he’d designed and waited. He needed to get a sense of her mood before he showed himself.
“Hey, yourself.” Her voice came back, cheery and light. “Get down here. It’s time to eat.”
Nella must have been here, delivering his daily supply of food. He’d subsisted on sandwiches and wine during the last few days, much to the older woman’s disgust, but from the smell, Nella had delivered something more substantial for the evening meal.
He wondered what Nella thought of the whole situation. Having never brought a woman here before, he’d never spent any time thinking of Pedros and Nella’s sensibilities. Still, when they’d arrived, on that first night, he’d instinctively known if he stuffed Sophie into his bedroom, he’d lose some of the respect and affection from the older couple.
The respect and affection he’d come to value.
He wondered what she had said to Nella. He wondered if he’d lost something he’d just realized was important to him. Anger at himself, at her, rumbled through his soul. Sophie made him do so many things he shouldn’t do. He knew that, yet he’d still did them.
Rolling off the bed, he padded into the bathroom to brush his teeth.
“Come on, Stravoudas.” Her voice rang from below. “I’m dishing this up now and I’ve worked for a couple of hours to make it exactly right.”
His hand stopped, his toothbrush stuck in the middle of his mouth.
Sophie? Sophie cooked for him?
Not once had one of the most famous pastry chefs in New York City lifted a finger to make anything for him at all. Not even a simple sandwich. No, instead, it had been him doing all the cooking and baking and buying of food. For her.
He spit out the toothpaste along with a sliver of disgruntlement.
He shouldn’t be disgruntled. He’d enjoyed feeding Sophie. He’d enjoyed her healthy appetite.
The annoyance slithered through his blood as he pulled on his jeans.
“There you are.” Turning from the simple stove, she gave him a friendly smile. “I thought I’d try one of Nella’s recipes.”
“Did you.” He took in the black oak table. Two wine glasses stood waiting along with a couple of cloth napkins and silverware. A thick white candle flickered in the center, glowing cheerfully.
He didn’t feel cheerful. He felt surly.
Her cocoa eyes went wary, his sharp little firecracker clueing in to his tension immediately. “What’s wrong?”
“Cooking for me, Sophia?” He gave her an insincere smile. “Has hell frozen over?”
Her tiny hands fisted. Her bow mouth tightened. And her brown eyes, the eyes that had looked at him with gentle warmth a few hours ago, those eyes went flat. “You are an impossible man to please.”
That wasn’t true. Everything about her pleased him. The way her body filled out the jeans and sweater she had on. The way she fit into his arms. The way she hummed every time he came into her.
Her smell. Her taste.
Her brain. Her wit.
The fragile Sophie. The firecracker Sophia.
Every piece of her pleased him.
That was the problem. She pleased him too much. Pleased him so much he let his guard down and became something he didn’t want to be. Even worse, she rammed right through all his barriers and made him question everything about himself. Everything he’d decided long ago.
“Nothing to say to that?” Her button nose scrunched. “Then you must
agree.”
Twirling around, she lifted the lid off the old-fashioned clay pot sitting on the stove.
“Nella came here, didn’t she?”
“No.” She slammed the lid down on the counter. “I went to the big house. I didn’t want her to be worried when I disappeared and I needed to get some ingredients.”
“What did she say?”
Her shoulders tightened at his curt tone. “She said very little. She smiled a lot.”
Smiled? A lot? His housekeeper had to know what was going on. She couldn’t have missed the tumble of Sophie’s dark hair or the bruise on her neck where he’d sucked and bit like the animal he was.
“Alex.” His krotída mou slapped a spoon into the pot. “Stop worrying about your reputation with Nella and Petros. They adore you.”
Her tone indicated she couldn’t understand why.
A reluctant grin skidded onto his mouth.
“Nella was happy about us being together, okay?” Another slap, slap of the spoon. “She even gave me a hug when I left.”
Alex wanted to stay angry, but Sophie was so damn cute: when she tossed her long, loose hair over her shoulder in dismissal, when her round body bristled in irritation, when her jaw clenched in apparent disgust.
“What are you cooking?”
She peered at him. Something in his cautious tone must have struck her as an olive branch because the tense line of her jaw eased. “Tavče gravče.”
A simple bean dish Nella had introduced him to on the first night he’d stayed at his new acquisition. Yet the smells emanating from the pot weren’t exactly the same as the ones he’d sniffed in his housekeeper’s kitchen.
Alex walked to her side and leaned in. There were the usual onions, tomatoes, and peppers sizzling along with the boiled beans. However, being Sophie, she hadn’t stuck to the script. There were also leeks.
“Leeks?”
She shrugged one delicate shoulder and kept stirring.
Leaning in further, he sniffed. “Mint?”
