The need to taste her overpowered everything else.
She was too sweet. Too lovely. And far too related to Benji for what he wanted—which was to forget. To bury himself in a beautiful woman for the night, to enjoy the salvation of her body, the pleasures of her touch and sensual kiss, and then, to wake up and walk away. Leonidas had zero issues with no-strings relationships, where both parties understood the transient nature of their togetherness—they were, in fact, hismodus operandi—but not with Mila. He couldn’t go there. He had to get a grip on his raging libido.
“Come on.” The words were way too gruff. Her eyes blinked to his, and he bit back a groan, because there was such a sensual invitation in the way she looked at him that it was almost impossible to pull away.
He reached for the passenger helmet and moved to place it on her head—she couldn’t keep a hand on her walking stick at the same time as positioning it. But his step brought their bodies together and he wasn’t strong enough to withdraw immediately. Instead, he relished the sensation of her softness against him, her delicate, fine, fragile body, so achingly beautiful and alluring, helmet forgotten by his side.
Without any forethought, a hand wrapped around her back, his fingers spread wide across the indent of her spine, his thumb moving slowly. He inhaled deeply, his nostrils filled by her, his eyes probing hers, challenging her. She met his gaze, and in her features he saw every reason he had to step back. Everything he knew about her hammered inside his mind, and yet his body refused to comply. He couldn’t ignore how much he wanted her, even considering his loyalty to Benji.
The death of Konstantinos had robbed him of his usual restraint. His self-control was shot. But he still knew right from wrong, and if he forgot that, he’d hate himself in the morning.
“Mila—,” He was drowning; he needed her to save him. But how? By walking away, or giving in?
“I know,” she said quietly. “This can’t happen. I get it.” Her throat shifted as she swallowed. “It’s just—here, now, in the moonlight, don’t you think everything feels just a little bit magical?”
His chest expanded as he breathed in then expelled air, trying to get a grip on reality.
“I want you to kiss me, Leonidas. Just here, just for a moment. Let’s pretend nothing and no one else exists.”
It was an invitation he had no hope of resisting. Just a kiss, after all. What could possibly go wrong?
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?”