The Greek's Nine-Month Redemption Page 3

  “Oh, I know that all of this is the final nail in the coffin of my decency.” She grabbed the end of his belt buckle and yanked it through the loops, then set about working on the closure of his slacks.

  “Go out with style, I say.” He slid his hands down her slender waist, to the full curve of her hip, and down farther, gripping the hem of her skirt and shoving it up roughly over her hips. No surprise, her panties were the same red lace as the bra.

  Not that he was complaining.

  “I took you for a white cotton kind of girl,” he said. “Who knew that you had so many secrets?”

  “You’re never going to know my secrets, Apollo,” she said.

  “So venomous,” he said, his lips touching hers now as he spoke the words. “And yet, you’re dying to have me.”

  She put her hand between them, pressing her palm against his hardened arousal. “Same goes.”

  “I’m tired of talking.”

  And then, he crushed his mouth to hers, claiming the kiss he should have taken years ago.

  * * *

  Elle had no idea what she was thinking. She wasn’t thinking. She was feeling. Feeling everything. Rage, need, arousal like she had never known existed.

  She would like to be confused about this. About how this could happen. About how she could be doing this with a man she hated so very much. But lust and anger had always been twisted up together where Apollo was concerned. Well, maybe not always. But in the past few years. And that was when her desire for him had turned from a girlish crush into a woman’s need.

  She wasn’t sixteen anymore. She knew what men and women did in the dark. She didn’t need her own hands-on experience to be aware.

  But somewhere, during all of that, Apollo had gone from being someone she trusted and admired—a member of the St. James family—to their bitterest enemy. And somewhere, as that change had taken place, her desire for him had changed, as well.

  And now it was this strange, twisted thing that she couldn’t begin to untangle. And there was no other man who made her feel anything near what he made her feel.

  It didn’t matter that it was sick. It didn’t matter that it was wrong. What Apollo made her feel was pure adrenaline. Pure excitement. Even if it wasn’t all good.

  He made every other man she had ever gone out with seem like a bland, beige substitute.

  That was why this was happening. Really, it was why it needed to happen. When this was over, she would finally be cleansed.

  Her need for him would go down in one fiery ball of pleasure and rage. And when she looked at him she would feel...nothing.

  Oh, she wanted that more than anything.

  She kissed him back with all of that. All of the anger, all of the lust. His tongue swept against hers, his hold on her hips firm, blunt fingertips digging into her skin. Then he shifted his position, putting his hands between her thighs, stroking his fingers over the thin lace that concealed her desire for him.

  She gasped, everything inside of her shaking. She had never been this intimate with a man before, and yet she wasn’t afraid. She wasn’t experiencing any virginal nerves. She was more than ready for this. It was the combination of years of fantasies. An explosion of... Well, of everything.

  His fingers slipped beneath the fabric, gliding through her slick flesh. If he’d had any doubt about how much she wanted him, he couldn’t doubt it now.

  “Yes,” he said, the word a growl.

  The way he said that, the absolute, incontrovertible evidence of how much he wanted her in return radiated through her. Spurred her on. She grabbed hold of the waistband of his pants and underwear, tugging them down his lean hips. There was no place for tenderness here, no place for hesitation.

  She reached between their bodies, wrapping her hand around his hardened length. It was her turn to shudder, her turn to growl. She had never touched a man like this. She had no idea he would be so very big. She was nearly weak with wanting him. This was why she felt hollow. This was what she needed to be filled.

  He slipped one finger inside of her and her breath hissed through her teeth, the unfamiliar invasion shocking and immensely pleasurable.

  She took hold of his arms, clinging onto his rock hard biceps as he continued to tease her with a preview of what she really wanted.

  She looked up at him, her heart hammering in her chest. He was beautiful. There was no question. And she wanted him. She wanted him more than she’d ever wanted anything in her entire life. It was important that she know it was him. As if it could be anyone else. As if anyone else could ever make her feel this way. This exhilarating mixture of destructive anger and impossible need.

  She kissed the corner of his mouth, tracing his lower lip with the tip of her tongue. He moved his hand from between her thighs, lifting it, grabbed hold of her bra and pulled it down, revealing her breasts to his gaze. He lowered his head, drawing one tightened nipple deep into his mouth.

  Sensation shot through her like an arrow, hitting her low and deep. A low, harsh sound escaped her lips and she let her head fall back as she laced her fingers through his hair, tugging hard as he continued to pleasure her.

  “Please,” she whimpered, “please.”

  He moved away from her, then bent down grabbing ahold of his pants, pulling his wallet out of the pocket before producing a condom.

  Her breath gathered up in her chest like a ball and held there, a heavy weight she couldn’t move. She could only watch him. Look her fill at his beautiful, masculine form. He was even more beautiful than she had imagined.

  He returned to her, his bare chest pressing against hers as he flattened her against the wall. She looked at his face, his gorgeous, thoroughly despised, utterly beloved face.

  She grabbed hold of him, bracketing his face with her hands and tugging him forward, kissing him hard and deep. He put his hand back between her thighs, this time pushing two fingers into her, stretching her gently. She was so ready for him. Beyond ready.

  “Do it,” she said against his lips.

  He moved his hand, gripping hold of her hips, sliding one hand down her thigh and lifting her leg, opening her to him. He tested her slick entrance with the blunt head of his arousal. Then he thrust deep inside.

  The pain was sharp, swift. Tears stung her eyes, and she shut them quickly because she didn’t want him to see. She didn’t want him to know. She had felt powerful a few moments ago, but this made her feel a lot more vulnerable. Vulnerable was not what she wanted. She wanted pleasure, she wanted her desire satisfied. She wanted to rid herself of this toxic, intense feeling she had for him once and for all.

  But, she hadn’t anticipated this. Not just the pain, but the feeling that she was breaking apart. The feeling that they were connected, closer than she had ever been with anyone.

  Somehow, she had imagined the fact that she hated him might buffer against any other emotions.

  But it didn’t.

  So she kept her eyes closed.

  If Apollo noticed, he didn’t comment. Instead, he fused his mouth to hers and flexed his hips, a flash of pleasure slowly overtaking the pain.

  Slowly, all the discomfort began to recede. And she just wanted him. There was nothing else. There was no ugly history between them, there was no anger, no hatred. Nothing but an intense, burning need to be satisfied. She clung to him, to his shoulders, her lips pressed to his as he established a steady rhythm, pushing them both toward the brink.

  He thrust hard and she let out a hoarse cry, raking her nails down his back. He growled, his rhythm faltering. And then, there was no more steadiness. There was nothing but a frantic race to the finish, his movements rough, intense. And she took it all. Every last bit.

  He gripped her chin, tilting her face up, forcing her to meet his gaze. And she did. She didn’t look away, unwilling to flinch in the face of his
challenge. She shivered, tension growing more and more intense in the pit of her stomach, her internal muscles gripping him tight as her orgasm began to build.

  He slowed his movement suddenly, withdrawing slowly before pushing back in hard. White light broke out behind her eyes, release exploding inside her like a bomb, a wild burst of aftershocks radiating through her, leaving her shaken, weak. And then he followed, his entire body going stiff as he shuddered out his own release.

  He lowered his head, his teeth digging into her collarbone. She let her head fall back against the wall, a sigh escaping her lips.

  They stood like that, for just a moment. And then slowly, reality started to creep in.

  She had done it. She had given her virginity to Apollo Savas.

  And suddenly, horrifically, all she wanted to do was curl into a ball and cry.

  She pushed at his shoulders, and he withdrew. She began to look around at the ground, realizing that only her shirt had been entirely discarded. Everything else was simply askew. That was—frankly—slightly more embarrassing than the alternative. She hadn’t even waited for him to undress her completely.

  He would think she was completely desperate. He would think that she had been yearning after him for years.

  It was the truth. Which was what made it particularly horrifying.

  She straightened her clothes, tucking her skirt back into place, fixing her bra as she pulled her blouse back on. He said nothing. He simply watched her with those dark, unreadable eyes.

  She smoothed her hand over her hair.

  “Too little too late, agape,” he said.

  She froze, her hand still poised over her undoubtedly wrecked ponytail. “Excellent,” she said, her voice so brittle she thought it might break.

  “I am leaving in the morning.”

  “All right,” she said, the words hollow, echoing in her head.

  “I will not see you. I will not make any decisions about staffing changes until the next time we meet.”

  “I’m relieved to hear that.”

  “I’ll be back in town on the twentieth. Make sure you keep your calendar clear.”

  With that, she could see she was dismissed. With no more fanfare than if they had simply finished a meeting.

  And he was still naked. It was absurd. But she wasn’t going to highlight the absurdity. Not when she simply wanted to get out of there as quickly as possible so she could have a complete and total meltdown.

  “Then I’ll see you on the twentieth.”

  She collected her purse, drawing the strap over her shoulder and clinging tightly to it. To keep herself from... Slapping him? Kissing him again? She wasn’t certain.

  “Excellent. Should I call you a cab?”

  “No,” she said, checking her watch. “It’s... It’s only three o’clock. I have to go back to work.”

  She had to go back to work like this. With the impression of his hands still on her skin, her cheeks burning from the brush of his whiskers against them.

  “So it is.”

  “Goodbye,” she said.

  He tilted his head. “Goodbye, Elle.”

  CHAPTER THREE

  ANTICIPATING THE TWENTIETH had become something of a reverse Christmas countdown. In that she hoped it would never come. It might have been nice to have an Apollo Advent calendar though. So that every time she thought about him arriving she could eat a piece of chocolate to try to deal with her stress.

  When she arrived at the office that morning it was with an industrial-strength coffee, a bottle of ibuprofen and a very fake smile plastered to her lips.

  Because Apollo was due to arrive—who knew when—to start handing down edicts from his high horse. And she was going to have to face him for the first time since they had... Since that day in his hotel room.

  The very thought of that made humiliating color wash through her face. That day had been an aberration. Something that would never be repeated. She had, after all, gone the first twenty-six years of her life without sex. She should be able to happily get through another few weeks. Then, maybe when everything settled down, when Apollo stopped coming in and poking at her employees, reshuffling her business and in general upending her life, she would contend with the fact that she needed to find a relationship.

  That was the problem. She had simply waited too long. She had allowed Apollo and her desire for him to become so large in her mind that nothing else could compare.

  Well, now she’d had sex. With Apollo, as it happened. So, question answered, tension diffused.

  She was a modern woman. She wasn’t going to allow him to make her feel ashamed about her actions. Even though, considering he was a relic of a man, he would attempt to make her feel ashamed. If for no other reason than he would be actively attempting to assert his dominance over her.

  Well, no thank you. She was...indomitable.

  She gritted her teeth, opening the door to her office and nearly dropping the coffee in her hand when she saw who was already sitting at her desk. “That’s my seat,” she said, the words coming out crisp and harsh.

  “It’s lovely to see you too, agape.”

  “Now, Apollo,” she said, deciding that she was going to be the one to address the elephant in the room before he got a chance. It was there, she might as well be the one to name it. “Don’t try to sweet-talk me just because we had sex.”

  “I wouldn’t dream of it,” he said, his lips tipping up into a smile.

  “No, I suppose you wouldn’t. That would require you to know how to sweet-talk.”

  “You rocked my world. I saw God. You have ruined me for all other women.”

  She gritted her teeth against the strange, ridiculous warmth that flooded her when he spoke. He was being a jerk, and she knew it. So his words shouldn’t make her...anything. She took a fortifying breath.

  “What you said,” she said, waving her hand. “Substitute ‘men’ for ‘women’, ‘slightly disorganized’ for ‘rocked’, and ‘God’ for... I don’t know, maybe ‘a really good cheesecake’? Not exactly divine, but adequate.”

  “You are in typical form today.”

  “I try for consistency, Apollo. It’s part of my charm.”

  “I have rarely seen evidence of your charm. Your charms perhaps, but I’m not really speaking of your personality.”

  “Right, well, for some reason things have been especially difficult between us lately, haven’t they? Though, I imagine not as difficult as things have been between you and my father. Have you spoken to him since you rammed that knife into his back?”

  “Oh, yes. Of course we have.”

  “You’re sick. How could you do that to your own—”

  “He is not my own anything. I am not your blood, agape. And a good thing to or what happened between us would be off-limits. Both in the past and in the future.”

  She gritted her teeth, trying not to blush. She was definitely playing at being slightly more blasé and experienced than she was. But he hadn’t called her on it yet. So she was going to carry on. “I would rather run my new Jimmy Choos through the shredder, thanks.”

  “Is that what the kids are calling it these days? I admit, that doesn’t sound very sexy.”

  “It wasn’t meant to be.”

  “Right. Tell me, Elle, how is my mother?” he asked.

  Elle arched a brow. “How long has it been since you’ve spoken to Mariam?”

  He shrugged. “Months? She doesn’t approve of my betrayal any more than you or your father do.”

  “And yet you don’t feel any guilt over it?”

  “I have my reasons,” he said, his tone so cold and hard it could cut glass.

  “I’m sure you do, but none of them are compelling enough for me or my family. I don’t care what your reasons are. And your
mother is well,” she said. “I just talked to her last night.”

  It had been difficult to talk to her stepmother when memories of what had passed between her and Apollo had lingered so persistently. She had felt...guilty and completely transparent. Thankfully, Mariam had her own topics to discuss and hadn’t seemed to notice Elle’s general silence.

  “Well,” she said, clearing her throat, “as charming as this little detour has been, let’s get down to business.”

  He reached up, touching the knot on his tie. “Oh, you meant actual business.”

  “You’re a pig.”

  “I’m wounded. Now, I’ve been going over projections for the quarter. You have to either increase profits soon or you need to start cutting expenses. I can guarantee one, but I can’t guarantee the other.” He stood, placing his hands on the desk. Her desk.

  She tried to cling to her anger. Anger that would hopefully be much more powerful than the attraction that was still surging through her. What was her problem? She was supposed to be cured. She was supposed to have inoculated herself to all future Apollo encounters. Cure yourself from a snakebite with snake venom, and all that. But she didn’t feel cured. She did not feel at all inoculated. In fact, she felt a little bit dizzy.

  “Of course you can’t,” she said, the words coming out harsh. “No one can guarantee a profit increase. But trust me, if we keep on going in this new direction—”

  “This isn’t about trust. It’s about the bottom line. I have a great deal more experience in business than you do, Elle.”

  Those words rankled. In part because they were true. In part because they dug beneath the suit of armor she had worked so hard to put into place today. It hit the wound beneath it that twinged every day. That she was her father’s second choice through and through. When she failed at this, she would prove that she never should have been here in the first place. That if her father had had his way he would have put someone else in her position. That if Apollo weren’t too important for it, if Apollo hadn’t turned against them, it would likely have been him.

  You decided failure be damned, remember?