The Greek's Hidden Vows

‘Technically, this is my bed too. But you can relax, Alexis. I’m not about to pounce on you.’

I wish you would.

She nearly gasped out loud at the torrid thought. ‘I should think not,’ she said, inserting a sharpness into her tone that was at direct variance with the slow melting in her pelvis caused by the sight of him lying there, both arms tucked behind his head and his heavy-lidded gaze on the ceiling. Dear God, as if he didn’t have a single care in the world. Whereas she was being turned inside out with intensifying cravings she feared she would never conquer.

Think practical, unsexy thoughts.

Her brain’s response was to produce even more lurid images, all of them of that bronzed perfection on display. And what...wasn’t.

She swallowed, wishing she could turn her back on him. But even that was impossible. Doing so would show weakness. Give him the impression that his overwhelmingly masculine presence threatened to shatter her control.

‘Sleeping on the sofa is no longer an option. Not without giving up all the ground we made this afternoon. Besides, if knowledge serves me right, you tend to stick to your side of the bed, even when you sleep alone. My presence shouldn’t have to change that.’

‘Should I be worried that you know my sleeping habits?’

His teeth flashed in the semi-darkness. ‘I’m extremely observant. Especially about the things that matter.’

She didn’t want that melting feeling in her belly to intensify. Didn’t want to take his words anywhere except at face value. Yet, she found herself turning towards him, her grip on the sheets easing when they should’ve been doing the opposite.

Christos Drakakis had probably never lacked for female attention since his teenage years. Beyond that, his deeply ingrained integrity assured her he wouldn’t force himself where he wasn’t wanted.

And that was the problem.

Alexis couldn’t deny the escalating need that only seemed to swell whenever he was here. Having him here in her bed—in their bed—wasn’t a temptation she wanted to test. But short of insisting he relocate, or relocating herself, she was left with only this option.

‘You’re overthinking this, matia mou,’ he drawled, right before he tugged the sheet firmly up his torso. ‘At this rate, it’s not the coffee that’ll keep you up but whatever thoughts are spinning through that brain of yours.’

The bed was wide enough. Hell, it could accommodate a small family at a pinch. And it was the last word in luxury and comfort. Still, she took the largest pillow she could find and wedged it between them. As if that would protect her.

As if his scent wasn’t already infiltrating the space between them, curling around her senses and drawing her in.

Alexis wasn’t sure how long she lay there, fighting tension in her body and wild thoughts in her head. Eventually, the sound of his deep, rhythmic breathing leached the strain from her body. She exhaled, long and slow, careful not to make a sound as she turned her head to watch him.

Sweet heaven, he was breathtaking.

A Greek god made flesh, sculpted with devotion and precision, with heaps of arrogance and elegance and mastery thrown in. Even in sleep, he remained a formidable presence, his cheekbones casting sharp shadows mitigated only by the lush sweep of his sooty lashes and soft curl of his sensual lips.

Lips she’d tasted.

Lips she wanted to taste again.

With a low moan of frustration, she turned on her side. Away from temptation.

* * *

Alexis opened her eyes what felt like minutes later to pure sunlight.

It took a moment for her to register that it was the remote-controlled parting of the curtains that had awoken her. That and the soft knock at the door.

She turned and lifted her head, a little dazed, to see Christos crossing the room. At the sight of his bare back, memories of last night flooded in, heating her body anew as he opened the door, his voice a low rumble as he let in the maid carrying a fully laden breakfast tray.

Acutely aware of her body’s response, and the fact that she’d just experienced her first full night in bed with a man, albeit a non-sexual one—Adrian had always found an excuse to leave her flat before morning, presumably to return to his fiancée—she stayed frozen. Christos, still sporting decadently low-riding pyjama bottoms, and showing off his sculpted torso and designer stubble in the dazzling sunlight, thanked the maid and took possession of the tray.

Alexis looked away from the sleek synergy of muscles as he approached. Reaching her side of the bed, he paused, one eyebrow arched at her.

‘You’re going to have to let go of that pillow and untangle yourself from those covers if you want breakfast,’ he drawled. ‘Or would you prefer me to feed you?’

She glared at him, his mockery triggering another infernal blush, and slowly unclenched her fingers. ‘That won’t be necessary,’ she snapped.