Page 18

Twelve

L EON

TWO WEEKS LATER

My fiancée’s lust was insatiable, and as the past two weeks proved, so was mine.

Every morning, light found us tangled in sheets, skin slick with sweat and the musky tang of desire.

I could still taste her on my lips from dawn’s first kiss, feel the hot clamp of her thighs around my shaft.

Four times before breakfast, we’d lost ourselves, and yet tonight, as I steered my Aston Martin down the winding drive to Laya and Nikolas’s estate, my cock tightened in my trousers, aching for another taste of her.

The polished leather of the steering wheel pressed into my palms while the engine hummed low and hungry, mirroring the roar in my chest.

I replayed the memory of her breathy moan when my hand drifted along the curve of her waist, or the shiver that quivered through her when I brushed a fingertip under her jaw.

She’d whimpered once, tiny and urgent, when my fingertips brushed the hollow of her throat, so raw, so unguarded.

But I’d stopped, pulling back before the spark in her eyes could ignite my savage need.

Every fiber of me wanted to arch her back against the mattress, drive into her until her nails scored my shoulders and her moans carved my name into the air.

I longed to claim every inch of her, to wrap my fingers around that soft column of her neck…

gently, of course, and still firm, until the friction set her pulse racing.

But with each passing sunset, I forced myself to wait, letting her lead the rhythm of our bodies until she’d woven trust into the marrow of her bones.

Calista was worth any struggle of restraint.

Her skin glowed like warm honey in candlelight, and her laughter tinkled like wind chimes in spring. Even her quiet moments, hair splayed across her pillow, eyelashes faint shadows on her cheek, made my blood throb.

Thinking she would soon be my wife felt like winning a jackpot I never dared play .

Tonight, we’d join her family for dinner and linger under the same roof, becoming more than fiancée and groom—becoming one household.

I parked beneath a row of ancient oaks, their branches draping the cobblestones in dappled shadows. I stepped out, chest tight with eagerness, and smoothed the crease in my shirt, though my mind was still tangled in memories of her hip against mine.

It had been hours since I’d last seen her. I wondered if she’d slip her fingers into mine and remind me of what waited behind closed doors in the quiet between family greetings and warm embraces.

Would she catch the restless beat of my pulse when I brushed past her at the buffet table? Could she sense the low growl of hunger I kept caged, waiting for the moment her walls came down?

My greatest fear wasn’t that I’d never taste her again. It was that I’d overwhelm her before she felt truly safe.

So I watered my lust in tiny sips, a lingering kiss at the nape of her neck, a slow stroke along her spine, always backing off before she trembled too hard.

In those stolen fragments, she’d matched my heat, arching into my touch, her breath quickening when my fingers tickled the curve of her hip bone. But each time I halted, knowing she’d someday beckon me to see the full force of that beast within.

I’d be the calm in her storm, the steady hand that guided her from hesitation into trust .

Everything else—my raging desire, my need to devour her—could wait until the moment she whispered, “I’m ready.”

And then…then I would show her just how endlessly insatiable love could be.

She’d rushed out of my house in Central Athens to meet her sisters for lunch, her hair tousled, her dress wrinkled from where it had lain in a rumpled heap on the floor all night long.

We’d been distracted, exploring the pleasures of our bodies until the early hours of the morning, falling asleep in each other’s arms when she’d meant to return home the night before.

When she’d woken up, slightly dazed and hungover from the bottle of wine we’d finished off the night before, my heart had melted at the sight of her sleepy expression.

I kissed her forehead, felt the flutter of her pulse beneath my lips, and seconds later we were back at it again, skin on skin and undisguised need.

My phone had buzzed all morning with her teasing messages:

“Stop thinking about me,” followed by a lipstick-kiss emoji, and later, “You’re impossible,” with a camera-snapping icon.

Each ping sent a jolt through my chest, igniting a coil of hunger in my gut. I sat through meetings with my mind hazy, tasting the echo of her perfume on my collar, imagining her low, throaty moans in my ear.

The tension between us was sensual and sexual and tantalizing beyond belief .

It was like every word we spoke to each other was laced with a lustful undertone, which left me in a state of heightened desire every waking moment. How the fuck I was going to make it through this dinner with her family with her being close enough that I could smell her perfume, I had no idea.

It would take every ounce of strength I had.

She was testing me at every turn, unknowingly.

Eventually, after we had moved past these challenges and were comfortably living together, I realized I would share all my struggles with her, and we would find humor in them.

The thought of building a life with Cali was exhilarating to me.

Developing a deep, intimate knowledge of each other, sharing private jokes, maybe creating a family with each other—I was looking forward to all of it.

As I parked the car and slid from behind the wheel, my heart raced with anticipation. I climbed the steps, and the door flew open before I could knock, my beautiful fiancée’s beaming face greeting me.

Her face softened when she saw the wrapped baby gift in my hand.

“You’re so kind,” she remarked, accepting the gift from my hands and setting it down on the floor. Instantly, she embraced me before I had a chance to greet her, and I couldn’t help but wrap my arms around her.

“I missed you!” she murmured in my ear, pulling me inside and closing the door. We stood alone in the formidable foyer, and I bent my head, brushing a kiss across her lips.

“I missed you too, even though it’s only been hours.” I inhaled the fragrance of her lilac perfume, delighting in the pleasure coursing through my veins because I was close to her again.

It was impossible to keep my hands to myself, so I took this stolen moment alone to let them fall down to her hips, running across the curve of her ass as I kissed her again.

Her body leaned into me sensually as she moaned into my mouth. I grabbed a handful of her hair, letting my tongue delve into her mouth.

The sound of footsteps approaching made us jump apart like a gun had gone off.

She furrowed her brow and squinted, shaking her head as she muttered, “Fucking cock-blocking pains in my ass!”

I chuckled, glad to hear I wasn’t the only one suffering.

Laya and Nikolas came out to greet me, and I picked up the gift and handed it to them.

“How thoughtful of you, Leon.” Laya flashed me an approving smile.

“I appreciate the invitation,” I said.

“Do you have a bag? I can have one of the staff bring it to your room,” Nikolas said. “We’ve prepared the guest wing on the south side of the house for you.”

“Thank you,” I said. “My bag is in the back of my car.”

“Say no more. I’ll take care of it,” he replied.

“Dinner is ready, if you’re hungry.” Cali smiled up at me. Her lips were still wet from our kisses, and the urge to lick her bottom lip overwhelmed me. I was certainly hungry, but I was hungry for Cali .

For now, though, food would have to do.

A few moments later, we were gathered around the dining table together, digging into a traditional Mediterranean feast of lamb and rice and everything that went with it.

“You still haven’t made moussaka for me,” Cali reminded me.

“I know,” I said. “I will, someday, don’t worry.”

What I neglected to mention was that it took effort to make, and whenever Cali came over, we spent all our time in bed. I hardly had the opportunity to drink water or wine, much less to prepare a full meal for her.

She winked at me, and I knew she was thinking the same thoughts.

As she sat beside me, her thigh pressed warmly against mine beneath the table, a subtle yet electric connection sent my mind wandering to places it shouldn’t go, not at this moment anyway.

The room buzzed with the gentle coos and babble of the baby nestled next to Laya, who juggled doting on him and nibbling at her meal.

Watching Laya and Nikolas interact with their child stirred memories of my own chaotic yet cherished family dinners. The way they seamlessly blended affection and responsibility resonated deeply with me, and it stirred a hopeful vision of the future I yearned to create with Calista.

Ever the devoted family man, Nikolas moved with an understated yet constant vigilance, his attention focused between Laya and Constantine, ensuring their well-being.

His love for them was palpable, a quiet intensity wrapped around him like a heavy coat, signifying the weight of his dedication.

It was the kind of love that spoke volumes without uttering a word.

I felt a similar gravity when Cali was near, a protective instinct that settled into my bones.

The thought of how this feeling might intensify if we had a child together sent a ripple of unease through me. The instinctual drive to protect Cali was already a powerful force within me, and the idea of adding a child—our child—could push me into an obsessive spiral.

“So, Leon, I’m curious where your family stands these days,” Nikolas inquired, his tone steady but probing.

“My family is just me,” I responded, my voice tinged with the familiar ache of loss that struck my heart like a piercing needle.

“Of course, I understand.” Nikolas nodded. “I didn’t mean to imply otherwise. I was referring to the Boscos syndicate as your family.”