The Greek's Hidden Vows

Alexis swallowed, wondering why the word affected her more now than it ever had before. Love, marriage or emotional entanglements of any kind weren’t on the cards for her. So why let herself imagine what it would be like if this were real? If it weren’t all make-believe?

Strong, demanding fingers slid into her hair, clenching the heavy mass ever so slightly. The barest hint of his power made her hyperaware of the animal ferocity of the man holding her. Of the renewed hunger she’d experienced that night on his sofa roaring to life inside her. The expertise with which he’d delivered pleasure. How much she wanted an authentic repeat performance.

He tugged her head back, exposing her neck as his gaze dropped to her mouth. Spikes of hunger lanced her and she licked her lips.

‘You want it too, don’t you?’ he asked, his voice a low, sexy rasp.

‘Christos...’

‘All you need to do is ask for it,’ he encouraged throatily.

Against her belly, she felt the pressure of his shaft, the sexuality bridled beneath his suit, and the tiniest moan escaped her. Yes, she wanted this. She was human after all. A woman with needs. Needs she’d denied for years.

But with Christos Drakakis? When every single clue pointed to this being a disaster?

‘Don’t overthink it, Alexis.’

The hand she’d braced on his chest unfurled. Searching. Exploring. The quickening tempo of his heartbeat against her fingers made her yearn for skin-to-skin contact. For the pleasure of hearing him just as shaken as she was by their chemistry.

Even if it was pure folly? No. Because Christos wasn’t Adrian. He wasn’t leading her on with clever and manipulative words. He wasn’t leading her on at all. If anything, he’d thrown the ball firmly in her court. And all she wanted, in this moment, was a kiss. Nothing more.

Liar.

His fingers tightened, drawing her attention back to him. To the fevered gaze fixed on her lips. To his lowering head, the brush of his breath on her skin. ‘I want to taste you again, glykia mou. I want to hear that little throaty sound you make when you’re turned on.’

Every atom in her body leapt in giddy excitement, pulling her up onto her tiptoes. Her hand had crept around his neck almost of its own accord and the luxuriant springiness of his hair teased her fingers.

Her gaze swept up, compelled by his. Met and held. Her lips parted, her yes one single breath away—

‘If you weren’t ready to disembark, perhaps you should’ve instructed your pilot to circle the airspace a little while longer.’

The heavily accented rasp of the voice that evoked an image of reckless years spent smoking expensive cigars and drinking ouzo made them spring apart. Or certainly made her attempt to. Christos’s steel-strong arm around her waist and the fingers spiked into her hair prevented her escape.

She turned, a flush creeping up her neck when she saw Costas Drakakis standing ten feet away, walking stick in hand and his eyes fixed firmly on them.

While Alexis burned with embarrassment for being caught in a melodramatic clinch, nothing in Christos’s face betrayed discomfort at being discovered in a compromising position with his executive assistant.

No, not his assistant.

His wife.

Here, now, in this moment, she wasn’t just his trusted employee. She was his wife. As the heavy weight of the priceless diamond and platinum rings on her finger signified.

A wave of icy realisation doused the flames of her arousal as Christos dropped his hand from her hair, his other sliding down her arm to capture her wrist after briefly lingering on the wedding ring.

‘Pappous. We were on our way out. You didn’t have to come up.’

The old man snorted. ‘It didn’t seem that way just now. It was that or burn to a crisp out there waiting for you two.’

Alexis cleared her throat and pasted a smile on her face, even as the cold thought continued to bloom inside her. ‘Costas, it’s lovely to see you again.’

Eyes so much like his grandson’s it was eerie flicked to her. ‘Is it? You could have fooled me by keeping me waiting.’

‘Behave, Pappous,’ Christos chided, his voice wrapped in an undeniable layer of warmth that made her curious about their relationship.

Unlike other families, they didn’t move to hug and exchange exuberant greetings, but a look arced between them for several seconds, as if they spoke their own silent language.

Seconds later, the moment was over. Behind Costas, a tall man dressed in discreet medical scrubs appeared, his eyes on the older man.