Chapter4
SHE TASTED LIKE WINE and berries and sunshine and light and every flicker of his tongue and movement of his lips made his body spark with need for her. Low in the pit of his gut he felt the pull to her, the familiar tightening of his body, muscle memory taking over, so that the kiss would have been an unfightable prelude to something more intimate if they hadn’t been standing on a public street in the middle of Stari Grad. He hated himself in that moment, for the betrayal of Benji, for the taking advantage of the sweetness she was offering him on a silver platter, but hell, it felt so good to touch her, to kiss her, to taste her.
The hand at her back moved lower, onto the curve of her bottom, pressing her forward, against him, so she felt his hardness and gasped, the delicate sound swallowed by his hungry, demanding mouth. He pressed her backwards, his body a pressure and weight, the contrast of his strength and size against her petite stature firing some kind of ancient, primal desire to protect and pleasure, to completely absorb her. He wanted to lift her over his shoulder, caveman style, and carry her home. Temptation was dragging on him, throwing common sense to the wind; he found the hem of her shirt and lifted it, just enough for his fingertips to connect with the bare skin at her side and a bolt of lightning almost sheared him in two. The reaction was instant.
Need exploded inside of him.
“Let’s go home,” she murmured, the words drugged by sensual need.
He moved his mouth to her throat, testing the pulse point there, feeling it running wild, then pulling away, staring at her as if seeing her for the first time. Her cheeks were pink, her pupils huge, her lips swollen. She stared back at him, her breathing rushed, and he knew that if he didn’t put space between them, he would no longer be able to resist her.
“Here.” His voice held a command, as he slid the helmet into place, effectively blocking her from him.
He couldn’t see her, he could no longer feel her, but a phantom of their kiss lingered against his lips as he drove, not helped by the way she clung to him the whole way, her legs on either side of him, her body so close, soft and sensual. His mind was in overdrive, desire only increasing as they drew nearer to the cottage. The woods were dark, with only the glow of the moon and the motorbike headlight to illuminate their path home. He focused all his energy on the journey, on getting them to the cottage, because he couldn’t—wouldn’t—contemplate what came next.
Frustration tightened inside him.
He was denying himself something he wanted and needed, and for what? She wanted him too. But it was one thing to slake his needs with a woman of his social circle, a woman who lived life in the same way he did.
Mila was different. She was off limits.
He just had to find a way to remember that.
Mila waitedfor him to hand her the walking stick before easing herself off the bike, careful not to put weight on her ankle, careful not to show how turned on she was, still. The kiss had been one thing, his hands on her bare stomach another, but the motorbike ride had been a masterclass in seduction. The purring of the engine beneath her seat, the feeling of his butt pressed between her legs, his strong arms steering them with skillful mastery, the smell of him as they’d cut through the forest, even the way the sultry night air wrapped around them was making the hairs on her body stand on end.
“How’s your ankle?” He asked, timbre of his voice deep, so her pulse throbbed. There was nothing about him she didn’t find sexy.
“Okay,” she said.
“Sore?”
“A little. It’s always worse at the end of the day.”
“Can I do anything?”
She looked towards the cottage. In truth, she was getting stronger each day. The injury was still painful if she was careless and leaned on it too heavily, but most of the time she could feel the improvement, and knew she was getting to the point where she could start resuming some gentle training. And yet, she turned back to Leonidas slowly, desperate to touch him again, to be touched by him. “Help me inside?”
His eyes narrowed in an instantaneous reaction and a moment later, he was sweeping her up, lifting her against his chest, so her brain exploded and every cell in her body began to vibrate with sweet, desperate pleasure. Each step he took brought their bodies closer together, and by the time he shouldered in the door, it was like being caught in a fire. She was so hot, all over, her insides squirming with a fervent, all-consuming need.
Did he feel it too? She was sure he did. But would he act on it? Benji might not have approved, but did her cousin really have a say in this? She supposed she should credit Leonidas with being a decent guy, to care so much, but her own desire outstripped any capacity to be impressed by his attempt at restraint.
He stepped across the laundry tiles and then, made a hissing sound and stopped moving altogether. Something in his body language conveyed urgency to Mila.
“What? What is it?”
She immediately tensed, sensing something was wrong.
“Come outside,” he said unnecessarily, given that he was carrying her.
But Mila’s instincts were tingling, every sense in her body telling her something was wrong. She craned her head, twisting to see, at the same time she asked that he put her down.
And she gasped, as graffiti on the walls caught her eyes first, and then, the words written there pummeled her sides. You’re mine, was painted across the wall in dark red letters. Her heart leaped into her throat.
“Put me down,” she repeated, digging her fingers into his back, trembling with fear and anger and non-comprehension, as her eyes fell on another wall, where the word, slut, was painted in the same awful, angry writing.
Nausea rose inside of her, disbelief making her squeeze her eyes. “I can’t believe it,” she whispered. “Even here?”
Leonidas strode into the room and sat Mila on the edge of the sofa. “Do not move,” he said thickly. “Stay exactly where you are. This is now a crime scene.”