A Perfect Man: International Billionaires IV: The Greeks (18 page)

“It’s not like you don’t also have other options.” He sneered as the memories flooded his jealous brain. “That Frenchman. The emir’s son. Hell, my partner would say yes to you in a moment.”

“I don’t want any of them.”

“And you don’t want me.” Alex was done with this conversation because it was going officially nowhere. He twisted away from her and aimed his sights on the street that led to home.

“I do, Alex.” The words were said so faintly and hesitantly, he almost missed them. “You know I do.”

Maybe his ears almost missed the confession, but his heart didn’t. He swiveled around to stare at her.

“Come on.” Her lips pursed. “Look how I kiss you.”

The movement of her mouth blew back the memories of the passion of her response. Along with the memories came his own passion. His blood heated against his will and his damn erection surged, even though he wanted to feel nothing more than coldness for this woman. “Yet, Sophia, you reject me every time.”

“I know.” She hesitated, a frown crossing her brow. “Because I’m scared.”

This confession blew him skyward. “What? You’re scared of me?”

Her bow mouth twisted. “You’re too much for me, Alex.”

A bark of laughter escaped him. This, this from a woman who’d flipped his world into the air and twirled it around on the tip of her finger. Twirled and twirled until he’d become so dizzy he couldn’t figure out where he should be and what he should be.

“Don’t laugh at me.” His firecracker bristled and fizzed.

Marching right into her crackling energy, he leaned in to stare directly into her cocoa eyes. “You’re too much for me too, Sophie.”

Her eyes widened, a flicker of affection springing to life. “What?”

“You heard me.” He hovered over her, letting her into him. “You blew everything in my life up.”

“I know.” Her gaze grew dim with misery. “I appreciate what you said earlier, but I’m still sorry—”

“And I’m glad you did, Sophie.” He made himself look straight at her.

“Honestly?” The misery swept away and the chocolate warmth came back.

“Yeah.”

They stood under the tower, the city for lovers surrounding them in a sparkle of hope, a sprinkle of rain, a sliver of desire.

Her brows finally lifted. “You called me Sophie. Twice.”

“It seemed like now was a good time.” He couldn’t help the glance down. Her mouth wasn’t glossy with lipstick. It didn’t beckon with artificial curves. All her little mouth did was be there; natural and wonderful.

“Kiss me,” the little mouth whispered.

He looked back into her eyes. “This time I won’t stop at a kiss,
krotída mou
.”

A thousand emotions and thoughts brushed across her face and he held his breath. He felt as if this moment, this time, was more important than any other single second of his life.

His brain yelled at him to say something smooth and charming.

His erection yelled at him to take the kiss and everything else.

His heart stuttered.

She smiled, a shy, lovely smile that twisted his heart inside his chest and flipped it over for good measure. “Okay.”

With one word, his firecracker had launched him right past the moon and into the burning embrace of the sun.

H
er lover was beautiful
.

She’d known he would be. After all, he was The Perfect Man. Yet she hadn’t realized the sight of Alex naked would make her want to lie back on his bed and spend the rest of her life ogling.

He glanced at her as he dropped his boxers on the floor. His wide mouth held the sultry slant she’d grown to need and his eyes gleamed in the shadowed bedroom, reflecting the glow of the streetlights outside. “Like what you see?”

The words were sly along with his smile, but she caught the whisper of vulnerability underneath. Or she thought she did. Or maybe she was completely crazy. Because this was Alexander the Great. A man who could have any woman he wanted.

Including her.

The thought made her grumpy, which was much better than feeling overwhelmed by his magnificence. “Dropping your clothes on the floor, Stravoudas? How messy. Tut-tut.”

He looked down and then back at her. The sly smile widened. “Another change you’ve made in me. I can’t wait to see what you do next.”

Sophie clutched the silver sateen duvet to her chest and bit her lower lip. She didn’t know if she wanted to do anything next. Because if she did, her heart whispered, this whole thing, this whole relationship could devastate her.

But she’d promised.

And if she reneged, Alex would be more than mad. He’d be hurt.

Why couldn’t she just let this happen as she had with her smattering of other boyfriends? She’d never felt any real anxiety about sex. Not really. Not much. She’d made sure the lights were out and she’d focused on the kissing and everything had always seemed to go fine.

Why was she making this so difficult?

The lights were out, mostly, though she certainly had an eyeful of perfect Alex. He would come over and kiss her soon. He was only a man. Like every other man.

Except he wasn’t.

The punch of this realization made her heart bound around in her chest while her skin went cold.

This wasn’t about sex for her.

Not at all.

This was something far more important, her heart wailed. This further realization made her breath freeze in her throat.

“Sophie?” He paced toward the bed, his shoulders appearing much broader naked than they did in a suit coat. The long, lean length of him staggered her: the muscularity of his biceps, the roll of his angular hips, the sinewy strength of his thighs. “What are you thinking?”

When he’d kissed her by the Eiffel Tower, she’d been totally in. His kiss had been soft and sweet, and her brain and body melted right into his mouth. She’d been sure, absolutely sure. When he’d finally lifted his head and took her shaking hand in his, she was in a daze of desire. She’d floated down the street with him, past Marcel, and right up the stairs in a fog of lust so strong she imagined seeing golden shimmering strings of passion binding her to Alex’s side. Even when he’d opened the front door and ushered her into his family’s gorgeous home, she hadn’t felt a frisson of doubt.

Not until he’d gently nudged her coat off of her and run his hands down her body did the slinking awful feeling, the familiar ache of knowing she wasn’t perfect, come over her.

Her hands tightened on the bedcovers.

Alex stopped. The muscles on his shoulders went taut and the big hands at his sides clenched. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

His gaze penetrated the shadowed room, piercing and intent. “Is it birth control?” He walked to the antique bedside table and pulled out a drawer. A shower of silver packets spilled onto the duvet.

“You keep condoms in your mother’s home?” She tried for outrage, but the confusing mix of emotions inside her made the sentence sound weak instead of accusing.

“Only when you’re around.” He slid the oak drawer shut.

“You were expecting to get lucky, huh?” She pulled humor around her like armor. Still, a pinprick of anger suddenly pulsed.

Of course, he thought he’d get lucky. He always got lucky.

“Hoping.” He looked at her again, the drift of his ponytail sliding across one shoulder. “Let’s get something straight right now. About Melanie.”

Her tongue cleaved to her mouth at the name. When Alex kissed her and touched her and smiled at her, she forgot. Her best friend seemed as far away as the moon, as far away as the North Star. Disquiet about having sex with Alex now turned into outright dread. How could she think of sleeping with this man when he’d been in her best friend’s bed only a few months—

“Melanie and I never slept together.” Leaning over, he swiped the pile of condoms off the bed and placed them on the table, near enough to grab for when needed. “Not once.”

A stunned silence fell between them.

“What?” she finally croaked. “She never told me that.”

“I told her to keep it between ourselves.” He brushed a hand through his curls, the action highlighting the breadth of his hands. “I wanted to wait. I thought it was the thing to do. The right thing to do.”

Sophie stared at him, wishing for once that a bedroom light was on when she was naked with a man. She needed to see his face and his eyes to know how to respond. But she couldn’t see enough to read him, so she didn’t say anything.

“Which tells you something, doesn’t it?” His voice went wry. “There’s no possible way I can wait with you. Not one more day.”

The lust in his voice made her flush with an answering response, yet along with it came a prick of pain. He’d wanted to wait with Melanie because it was the right thing to do. What did that mean about her?

“Sophie?” He now sounded bewildered. “Say something.”

Say something?

Like…
I think this might be a mistake even though I really want you
.

Something like that?

“You know I want you.” Alex didn’t move toward her. She felt his heat, though, his hot desire reaching for her. “Only you,
krotída mou
.”

The hoarse statement arrowed right into her jumbled heart, but it wasn’t enough to quiet the memory, the time when she hadn’t been wanted, she’d been laughed at. This wasn’t his issue, however; it wasn’t something she should be bringing into this room.

“I want you, too.” Her whispered words were the only thing she could think to say.

A sigh of relief came from him and he took a step toward the bed.

She pulled the covers closer with an instinctive tug.

He stopped cold.

She’d managed to hide her growing disquiet as he’d taken her hand and led her down the hall to his bedroom. Scooting into the adjoining bathroom, she’d undressed without looking at herself in the mirror. When she’d gathered her courage, along with a long, plush towel wrapped around her body, and opened the door, she’d found the room empty. By the time he’d come back with a bottle of wine and two crystal glasses, she’d been safely under wraps in the bed.

“Sophie?” His hands opened and closed, drawing her gaze to his hips and pelvis. Shadows concealed his masculinity, but she could sense the power and need.

“Are you having second thoughts?” he said, his voice raw.

“N-no.”

He cursed, a rough, foreign word that wasn’t his usual smooth French. “You don’t sound very convincing.” With an abrupt jerk, he turned, bent down, and grabbed his jeans.

Yanking herself into a sitting position, she scrambled for something to say. Nerves and fear turned her words into an accusation. “If you would just come here and kiss me, I’ll be fine.”

He straightened, his back still to her. Now she had to contend with all the perfection of his other side: the bunched tenseness of his triceps, the sleek line of his spine leading her down to the taut excellence of his butt.

She wanted him. So much.

Why wouldn’t he come over here and kiss her?

Sighing, his shoulders drooped. “I’m not going to hold you to a promise you don’t want to keep.”

“I do want to keep it.” She did, didn’t she? Frustration balled inside of her like a tight fist. “All you have to do is kiss me and I’ll be good.”

He glanced at her, his jaw tense. “I don’t want you to be fine. And I don’t want you to be good.”

“What do you want from me then?” She threw her hands in the air, forgetting about her naked body for a moment.

The duvet slid down.

Alex’s gaze zeroed in with intensity.

She gasped and grabbed, covering herself once more.

“Wait a minute.” Swiveling around, he dropped his jeans and paced to the edge of the bed to kneel on the mattress. His hands came down right beside her hips. “This is all about the tragic story, isn’t it?”

“No, it’s not.” She closed her eyes, concealing herself from his sharp gaze. “Kiss me.”

Silence fell between them, filled only by his breathing. She felt its warmth on her skin and the heat of his body surrounding her. Pursing her lips, she eased forward, only wanting his kiss and then the sex.

He didn’t take the hint. “Tell me.”

Irritation and something more, something hot and hard landed inside her. Her eyes popped open. “Any other guy would have been all over me by now.”

“Yeah?” He propped himself back on his heels and crossed his arms. “I’m not like other guys, I guess.”

He guessed? She knew. The thought shook her and irritation went right into anger. “Okay. If you don’t want sex, I’ll leave.”

“Be my guest.” He eased off the bed and ambled to the door. The glass chandelier overhead burst into light.

Alex leaned on the silk-covered wall, his arms at his sides, covering nothing. His mouth wasn’t sultry with need or grim with judgment or quirking with amusement. His gaze wasn't filled with animosity or laughter or sexual desire.

He gave her nothing. Nothing to go on.

“Turn off the light,” she demanded. How could the magic between them change to ugly so fast? Only an hour ago, she would have done anything with this man. Now all she wanted to do was hit him.

“Come on, Sophie.” His words were silky with challenge. “Get out of the bed. Come over here and either kiss me or walk out the door. Your choice.”

He wanted everything from her. He’d told her before. Why hadn’t she listened? “No.”

“I was right.” He kept staring at her. “The tragic story.”

She scowled at him. He stared back, nothing in his eyes but a question.

“There isn’t any tragic story,” she finally said.

“Then we’re going to have a long night staring at each other in this bright light.”

Sophie dropped her gaze to her clenched hands and white knuckles. “Go into the bathroom and I’ll be out of here in a flash.”

“Nope. Not going to happen.”

A wash of emotions rose inside her, fury and fear mixed with an awful sense of being crushed. They filled her with a rage she hadn’t wrestled with in years, in more than a decade. “You are so stupid.”

All he gave her was a passive grunt.

She felt like a child, wanting to throw a temper tantrum, wanting to throw things at him until he’d go away. “It’s nothing.” She lifted her gaze to his perfection, giving it and him her best glare.

His expression was completely calm. “If the story is nothing, come over here and kiss me.”

Her breathing now filled the silence. Harsh and distraught. Dammit. Distraught. “Why are you doing this?”

“Because I’m your friend. Before anything else, I’m your friend.”

His words were so simple, so solid. They slid right into her soul and the tight ball of rage loosened. Shocked, tears came to her eyes.

“Sophie.” He straightened. “Don’t cry.”

“I can’t help it.” Keeping one hand clutched on the sheet, she swept the other across her cheeks.

Pacing to the bed, he slipped beneath the covers and slid right to her side. “Hey,” he murmured.

“Hey, yourself.” She found herself nestled in the curve of his body, her wet cheek resting on his warm skin. A brute hand stroked a gentle touch along her arm as a surprisingly comforting silence filled the bedroom. She closed her eyes, blocking out the revealing light.

“Okay. We won’t talk about the tragic story. For now.”

Sophie tensed, and then his hand smoothed to her shoulder and massaged the tension away. His breath lifted his chest up, and she felt his heart beating on her cheek. The heat pouring from him warmed more than her skin.

His mouth whispered across her hairline. “You smell like cookies.”

A watery chuckle. “That’s the best compliment you can come up with, Stravoudas? You’re slipping.”

His chest rumbled in a chuckle and before she thought it through, her hand stroked across him, taking in the heat and feel of him.

His arm tightened around her and the big hand landed on her naked hip. “You feel good.”

“You, too.” Tucking her face into the crease of his neck and shoulder, she took in a deep breath. “You smell like Paris.”

He chortled again. “I smell like cigarettes and car exhaust? I don’t think I’m the one who has to work on my compliments.”

“No.” She popped her head up to meet two twinkling blue eyes. “You smell like…”

A caramel eyebrow rose.

“Like the best pastry in the world.” Oh, crud. What a stupid thing to say. Immediate, intense embarrassment filled her and she knew a blush stained her cheeks.

“Coming from you, Sophie, that’s a high compliment.” The smile he gave her was grave and one she’d never seen before. A sincere smile. A smile only for her.

A Sophie smile.

A joy-filled zing of happiness fluttered inside her heart and she gave him a special smile of her own. One she’d never given another soul.

“
Krotída mou
.” He shook his head, the blond curls around his ears swaying. “I can’t believe what you do to me.”

“You do it to me, too,” she admitted, not knowing exactly what the words meant, but instinctively understanding the message.

“Do I?” His other hand lifted to cup her head. She felt the tug at the top of her ponytail and then the release of her hair. Something went free inside her as well as out, and she bent down without any lingering fear and kissed him.

Her hair fell in a curtain around them, keeping out the world. He met her kiss, his mouth hot and wet, his tongue strong and sure. Sophie felt everything fall away until the only thing she knew was here and him.