“I’m okay. I think it was the shrimp.” I take in a deep breath. My stomach no longer hurts. “I feel better now.”
Kostas eyes me carefully. “I think Rosie and Aris can handle the rest of the menu. Let’s get you home.”
When we get back to the table, Aris eyes me speculatively. “Everything okay?”
“Yeah,” Kostas says for me. “Talia isn’t feeling well, though, so I’m going to get her home.”
Not wanting Angelo to think his food was bad, I explain to him that I’m not much of a seafood person. Thankfully, he doesn’t appear to be too offended. It helps that Rosie is working her way through almost every item on the tray and swears everything is perfection.
“Let’s go, wife,” Kostas says as he guides me down the pathway toward our home. “I was going to offer to run you a relaxing bath, but now that you’re feeling better, I think a hot shower is in order.” His wicked smirk makes me feel tons better.
Kostas
I pace our bedroom, slightly annoyed by the fact I’m wearing a tux rather than one of my usual Armani suits. But this is Talia’s doing. The entire grand opening of Pomegranate is an over the top affair that she singlehandedly orchestrated herself. Pride chases away my irritation as I think about all the work she’s put into the restaurant. It’s by far the most unique restaurant at Pérasma Hotel. She’s put an incredible amount of effort into it. My mother would be so proud.
Thunder rumbles in the distance. We’ve had nice weather all week. Of course it’d wait to rain until when we have guests coming in from all over Greece to help celebrate opening night.
“We better get a move on,” I call out. “Weather’s looking shitty.”
She exits the bathroom in a pair of nude-colored panties and nothing else. Instantly, all thoughts of the event are erased as my hunger for her takes center place.
“No,” she grumbles. “My stomach is in knots with nerves, and I need to get dressed. We can’t be late.” She purses her juicy lips that have been painted the color of the skin of a pomegranate and frowns. If we didn’t have this shit to go to, I’d suck every bit of the color off those perfect lips like she was my very own fruit to devour. “No,” she huffs once more.
I roll my eyes but follow her into the large closet. Her long blond hair has been curled and hangs loose down her back. She locates her dress on a hanger and unzips the back. Then, she pulls it off the hanger before stepping into it. Her ass gets hugged by the material before it disappears when she pulls it up. I stride over to her and push her hair over one shoulder so I can zip it up. A tremble rattles through her.
“Don’t be nervous,” I tell her, kissing the top of her head. “You’ve done the hard part. Now it’s time to enjoy it.”
She turns and presses her lips to mine. “Thank you.”
I step away and admire the way the crystal-studded dress hugs her luscious curves. When she’d seen the dress in a magazine and offhandedly mentioned how much she liked it, I knew the truth. It was her subtle way of asking for it. And since I’m a giving husband, I flew the designer out for a fitting. The sheer chiffon material serves one purpose—to hold the crystals in place. But in the places the crystals don’t touch, I’m rewarded with tiny glimpses of her tanned flesh. It makes me want to tear the dress from her body one crystal at a time and forbid her to ever leave my sight. Just knowing both men and women will be staring at what’s mine sets my teeth on edge.
“You’re growling like a dog,” she teases as she bends to slide on her silver strappy sandal heels.
“You’re a sparkling dick magnet,” I bite back.
She laughs—sweet and carefree. “I think that’s a compliment, so thank you.”
I stalk over to her and place my hands on her hips so I can inspect her closely. The dress is heart-shaped at the top and strapless. Her breasts fill the cups and spill over slightly. With each breath she takes, the flesh jiggles and entices. My dick fucking loves this dress.
“Still growling,” she sings, flashing me a wicked grin.
She pulls away to walk over to her jewelry drawer that I’ve filled with gorgeous pieces that remind me of her. As she peers into the drawer to select what she’ll wear, I rake my gaze down the rest of her dress. Where the crystals stop mid-thigh, the shimmery sheer chiffon goes all the way down to her ankles with only a few crystals dotting the material here and there. A long slit cuts through the fabric and ends incredibly high up her thigh.