His Shock Marriage in Greece
He needed both hands to rip the panty in half, and then he moved down her body to kiss her where she was so warm and wet. He was so good with his hands and mouth that she climaxed far too quickly, and then he shifted his weight, and she welcomed him back into her body, where he seemed to be a perfect fit.
* * *
They made love on the wine room’s leather couch, and then again later in the master bedroom. It was past midnight now, and Kassiani was trying to decide if she should return to her room, or stay put for the night.
“Stay here,” he said gruffly. “I can’t have my wife running out of the room after we make love.”
“You run out of the room.”
“I don’t run. I never run.”
“But you do leave.”
“I can’t spend the night with anyone. I don’t sleep when in bed with someone else. It’s not personal. I promise you.”
“Even as a boy?”
“Kass,” he growled.
She snuggled closer. “Okay, no more probing questions tonight.” She closed her eyes, relishing the feel of his hand as he stroked her back and her hip. She wished he would stay with her all night. She so very much liked it when they were together, like this. After sex he was so calm and relaxed. It was almost as if he was a different man.
She was almost asleep when she heard him ask abruptly, “So how much money do you have?”
Kassiani frowned sleepily, trying to figure out what he meant. And then she recalled the conversation he was referring to and tried to shrug it away now. “Not enough to rule the world, but enough to have a little nest egg should I need to take care of myself.”
“You won’t ever need to do that. It’s my job to take care of you,” he said after a moment. “Just as it’s my job to protect you. I am responsible for you and the family—”
“We don’t have a family yet.”
“But we will. And you’ll be a good mother.”
“And you’ll be a good father, too,” she said.
He stiffened. “Don’t say that. Friends are supposed to be honest. We’re supposed to be honest with each other, aren’t we?”
“I think you will be a good father. I think you’ll learn to open up more—”
“I wouldn’t count on it.”
“I’m an optimist.” She pressed her fist to his chest. “And I’m not giving up on you. I’m determined to get to know you. You don’t talk about your past. You don’t talk about your family. You don’t talk about anything personal, or important, with me. Why can’t you let me in a little bit? How would it hurt?”
“I don’t like the past. I like the future. It is the future that interests me.”
“I respect that, I do, but can’t you see that you’re a mystery to me? I know virtually nothing about you, whereas you know everything about me and my family—” She broke off, grimacing. “Well, not me, per se, but the Dukas family.”
“So what do you want? To tour my village? See the house where I was born?”
“Yes! Yes, please. Are you serious?”
He groaned. “No!”
“Why not? It would be fun. I’d love to see where you were born and raised. I’d love to visit the village and see the houses that you rent to the tourists and the olive press—”
“Slow down.” He kissed her, to stop the stream of words. The kiss grew heated, and she was breathless by the time he lifted his head.
His black brows tugged into a line and, frowning, he pushed back her long hair from her face, tucking the strands behind one ear and then the other. “I wasn’t being serious, kitten, no, but is that really what you want to do on our honeymoon? Visit Adras? Rather than Crete or Santorini?”
“Yes. It would be amazing.”
“It’s a very small island, and very rustic.”
“All the better.”
“You’re going to be disappointed.”
“I won’t. I promise.”
* * *
It took a day of sailing but by evening they would reach Adras.
Kassiani was excited, ready to see where Damen came from and ready to be part of his real world. She passed the afternoon peppering Damen with questions about his childhood on Adras. She noticed he was selective in which questions he answered. Sometimes he avoided saying anything at all and she’d let it slide at first but now they were within an hour of anchoring at Adras and she still knew virtually nothing about his family.
“Come on,” she begged, turning over on her lounge chair on the sundeck, “tell me something about your parents. Are they going to be there when we get off the boat? Do they still live on Adras? Are they even alive?”
He sighed, and dragged his chair out of the bright hot sun and into the shade. “My father passed ten years ago, but my mother still lives in the village.”
“What is the village name?”
“It’s simply Town, or Adras Town.”
“We won’t be staying in the village, though?”
“No, we’ll be at my villa. But I have a car and we can use that to drive around, so it’s not as if you won’t have a chance to go to town.”
“Does everyone in the town know you’re married?”
“Yes. Although some might still think I’ve married Elexis.”
She fell silent, and tried to ignore the anxiety his words created.
“I can see the wheels turning,” he said. “What are you thinking right now?”
Kassiani glanced down at the plain gold band he’d put on her finger during the ceremony nearly a week ago. It was far too large but at least it hadn’t been worn by her sister. “Sometimes I forget you were ever supposed to marry Elexis.”
He must have followed her gaze because he said, “As I said before, we’ll get you a proper ring, with a big stone, when we return to Athens.”
“I don’t need a big stone. This is fine. This is mine.”
“Your sister had—”
“Can we not discuss Elexis?” she interrupted tautly. “I realize it’s natural to mention her but she’s not my favorite person right now.”
“Right now, or ever?”
She stared at Damen, her gaze searching. A lengthy silence followed. “We’ve never been close, no.”
“Are you jealous of her?”
“We’re four years apart and we have always had different interests, as well as different values. I admire her in many ways—she is the person I could never be—but it wasn’t easy growing up in her shadow.”
“I would think it’s the other way around. It can’t be easy being the big sister to a brilliant, precocious younger sister. I am sure she has had to struggle to find a way to be successful as herself.”
“She’s stunning. People love looking at her.”
His broad shoulders twisted. “And I love looking at you.”
Heat bloomed within her, heat and a whisper of hope that one day there would be more between them than just the physical. That there would be a relationship. Feelings. Love.
Kassiani abruptly stopped herself.
She couldn’t let herself go there, not yet, because he certainly wasn’t there. But would he ever be able to love her? Would he ever be able to give her what she needed?
She had things.
She needed love.
Heart aching, she
forced her attention to other topics. “I remember hearing that some of your cousins would be attending the wedding, but not your mother. She didn’t go to Athens, did she?”
“No. She doesn’t like to travel.”
“Then why not marry at the church in your village?”
“It wouldn’t be proper or convenient. There are no hotels on Adras. There would be nowhere for the reception—”
“Your villa wouldn’t be large enough?”
“The church wedding is important, but our family church in the village is humble. And the locals would be uncomfortable with the outsiders flooding the town. My mother, especially, would be uncomfortable with the attention. Far better to marry in Athens and keep that part of my life separate from my mother and those who know her.”
“So she wasn’t hurt by being excluded?”
“I offered to fly her in, she said no. I offered to send the boat for her. She said no. She doesn’t like to be out of her element, and I can respect that. Why make her unhappy? She is a simple woman. There is no room in her life for wealthy or pretentious people.”
“So you only see her when you return home?”
“Yes.”
“And when was the last time you returned home?”
“To Adras?” He paused. “Christmas.” Then he shook his head. “Actually, the Christmas year before last. It’s been a while.”
Almost sixteen months. Kass chose her words carefully. “You will introduce me to her?”
“Before we leave, yes.”
“But not right away?”
“There is no rush. I would rather you settle in. Become familiar with the villa and the gardens and the estate.”
“Are you worried that your mother won’t like me?” she asked carefully, aware that most mothers did not like their daughters-in-law. Her paternal grandmother, Yia-yia, had certainly never thought Liliana—Kassiani’s model mother—was good enough for her son. From the start there had been bad blood between her grandmother and mother, and it had never improved during the marriage, either. Yia-yia had moved in only after Kassiani’s mother and grandfather were both gone. “You do not have to worry about protecting my feelings,” she added. “I will not be crushed if your mother doesn’t like me.”