The Kiss She Claimed From The Greek

She waved a hand around her. ‘For this. For bringing me here.’

His expression became quizzical, as if he’d never seen her before. ‘But we haven’t even left the apartment yet.’

Sofie looked back out at the view. ‘It’s enough—believe me. I’ve never seen anything like this.’

He took her hand and raised it to his mouth. ‘Then you’d better get used to it.’

His mouth on her hand made her pulse trip. Achilles pulled her closer and looked down. ‘First, we need to get you out of those clothes. I plan on burning them, if you’re not too attached?’

Sofie felt like giggling. ‘But then I’ll be naked.’

When it was like this with just the two of them, in spite of the fantastical surroundings, she could almost believe he was the man he’d been before his memory had returned. Less stern. Carefree.

Achilles responded, ‘You say that like it’s a bad thing.’

‘Um... I don’t know if the elegant specimens who inhabit your world are quite ready for the reality of an average body.’

He pulled back for a moment and looked her up and down. When he looked into her eyes her knees felt weak. His gaze was smouldering. ‘Your body is far from average—and, believe me, I know.’

That struck like a sharp dart. A compliment inside a reminder of who she was with. An international billionaire playboy with more sexual experience than she would probably accrue in two lifetimes. She pushed her misgivings aside. She knew who he was now. She knew this was just a temporary indulgence.

‘Come here,’ Achilles commanded.

Sofie let him pull her into his arms and kiss her, moulding her body with his hands as if she was some precious thing. This was what was so dangerous and what she couldn’t resist. So she didn’t.

Later that evening, after the sun had set, with a lingering hum of pleasure in his blood Achilles sat in a chair on the terrace and let the sounds of Athens wash over him. He’d showered and thrown on a pair of faded jeans and a loose shirt. It felt good to have his own things again.

People were laughing far below. Shouting. Cars honking. Alarms. And above it all, lit up, the Acropolis presided eternally over this teeming city.

Achilles had mixed feelings about being back in Athens. He always had mixed feelings in his home country. Because he loved and resented it all at the same time.

Diverting his mind away from the shadows, he thought of the awe and delight on Sofie’s face earlier, when she’d said Thank you. Just for bringing her here. Nothing else. Not for jewellery, or clothes. For an experience that most took for granted.

That he’d taken for granted for years. More than taken for granted. He’d treated his privilege with a cavalier attitude that pricked at his conscience now.

Irritated with his line of thought and the fact that he seemed to have developed a conscience along with the return of his memory, Achilles got up and went inside, pouring himself a shot of whisky. It burned down his throat. He hadn’t come back here to examine his conscience. He’d come to repair his reputation, to continue building Lykaios Industries into the most successful company in the world, and to prove to everyone that he wasn’t a messed-up product of his past.

So far, so on track. And with a lover warming his bed who would only enhance his plans. A totally unexpected lover. Someone inexperienced and yet someone who made him feel like a novice.

Achilles’s body was already responding to the recent memory of how she’d straddled him, taking him so deep he’d seen stars. The way she’d moved, getting used to the sensation of riding him. Killing him in the process. It had taken all his restraint and skill not to explode like a virgin with his first woman.

He’d shaped her beautiful full breasts, his hands moving down to that small waist and then to her hips, holding her still, finally, because he had reached the limit of his control.

He cursed and poured another shot of whisky, and then walked out to the terrace again, to try and get some oxygen to his brain. In spite of the heat from the drink filling his throat and belly, he felt a cold finger trail its way down his spine as something occurred to him.

Was he being taken for a ride—literally—by someone who had seen him in a moment of weakness and decided to use it to her advantage? She might come from an island on the edge of Europe, but she couldn’t be that pure and sweet...

The memory of her awe and gratitude earlier mocked him now. Was he the biggest fool to have brought her here? To have believed everything she’d uttered? To have believed in the picture of innocence she’d presented, thanks to her humble job and her home on that small rural island? After all, she had shown little hesitation in agreeing to let him stay with her. Maybe even then she’d been hedging her bets and taking a gamble on Achilles being indebted to her? Maybe she’d counted on him as a means of escape from the drudgery of her life?

He’d instructed his team to look into her earlier, but instead of making him feel more in control it had made him feel guilty. Ridiculous. Achilles never second-guessed himself. If anything, it was proof he was doing the right thing and was right to be on his guard around her.

He thought of something she’d said when he’d offered to get her a dress in London: ‘I feel like I took advantage of you.’ Perhaps she’d meant it literally, and had been all but telling him that he was being a fool, guided by his hormones rather than his well-honed instincts.

He felt a slight surge of revolt in his belly to be casting Sofie in this light, but he pushed it down ruthlessly. No. He did not regret bringing her here—after all, he wanted her more than he’d ever wanted another woman and he would not deny himself that pleasure—but from now on he wouldn’t let himself forget who he was and who he’d become out of necessity. Because he knew the world wasn’t fair, and he knew that if he let his guard drop for a minute he could be annihilated.

At that moment, as if on cue, he heard a noise.

Sofie.