Page 40 of Greek's Temporary "I Do"

‘And then it was easier for me to pretend that it was Leander and not you who had given me such a significant present, when it was so easy for you to cut me from your life.’

The truth sobbed in her chest. She no longer wanted to hide anything from him, to protect him, or herself. If this was all she was going to have with him, if this was all they would ever get, she wanted him to see and know even the most dark and vulnerable parts of her. She wanted to be known by him, completely and utterly.

Only by him. Only ever by him.

‘Why did you wear it to the wedding?’ he asked. ‘Before you knew I was going to be there.’

She looked to the ground. ‘Because I wanted something of you that day.’

He lifted her chin with his forefinger, pulling her gaze back to his, the question in his eyes not needing to be spoken.

‘Because,’ she said, drawing on her courage, ‘because it’s always been you.’

CHAPTER NINE

NOTHING COULD HAVE undone him more in that moment. Nothing had ever undone him more. The naked want he saw in her eyes, the yearning. No one had ever looked at him like that. Not Mina, or any of the other women he’d spent time with.

She had kept his secret—the Christmas gift—at first to protect him and then later to protect herself, and he didn’t know what was worse. No one had tried to protect him before. Not his brother, or his ex-fiancée. An ex-fiancée who had not even recognised him when they’d collided in the club. But Helena had. The moment she’d seen him at the top of the aisle, she’d known who he was. She always had.

It’s always been you.

Deep down, he’d known that. He’d felt it but never wanted to look too hard or too closely at it because he hadn’t wanted to lose her too. But her desires were written in her eyes and he wanted, so damn much, to give in to all of them.

‘The world just watched you marry my brother,’ he said, still desperately clinging to the last remaining barrier between them.

Helena nodded, agreement and understanding shining in the depths of the tears that hadn’t yet fallen.

‘We can’t...’ he tried again. Tried to convince himself. Tried to lie. When all he wanted to do was take her into his arms. ‘It would ruin us both if it were found out.’

Helena bit her lip, her gaze dropping to the floor as she nodded in a way that twisted his gut. She turned to leave and the sudden wrench in his heart nearly killed him. It sliced clean through every and any objection that he could make, any fear for the future or of the past. He couldn’t let her go. He just couldn’t.

Leo caught her wrist and pulled her back to him and when she crashed against his chest he held her there, caged within his embrace, half terrified that she’d escape.

His entire body tensed against the shock of her against him, so close that he could feel the beat of her heart against his chest. Neither of them moved, barely breathed even, until she sighed and relaxed against him and he felt a victory like he’d never known.

Her head came to just beneath his chin, and he felt the puff of her breath against his neck. Goosebumps unfurled across his skin at the proximity of her lips to his skin, arousal coming for him hard and fast. His pulse raged in his chest and for a moment all he could hear was the sound of blood rushing through his veins.

His entire being wanted to hold, cling, delve, grip, any part of her he could claim. Possession, not sexual, but primal. He wanted her to be his in every way and it shocked him. Shocked him that he could feel something so animalistic when what he held in his arms was so fragile and precious.

She shifted in his hold and for a horrifying moment he thought she wanted to pull away, but when she settled herself against him more securely, when she seemed to relish the press of her body against his as much as he did, his breath eased.

Tentatively, she leaned into him and pressed her lips against his neck and, Christós, he’d never felt anything so pure and so wrenching at the same time. The constant tug, back and forth, suddenly stopped the moment he felt her lips pressed against the column of his neck. Arousal shot through him like an arrow, but he held himself back, fiercely curious to see what Helena wanted to do, content and excited to let her lead.

Her hand came up between them and splayed the shirt open at his neck, releasing a button to give her more skin to caress. His fingers gripped her hip reflexively and she pressed herself against him in response.

When she kissed the top of his chest, her tongue swept out and he nearly jumped out of his skin in desperation to join with her, to meet her, to give her even just a taste of what she was doing to him. But he couldn’t move. He was under her spell and helpless to stop her sensual explorations.

‘Helena...’ he tried, his voice coming out on a croak and momentarily unsure as to whether her name was a plea or a prayer on his tongue. Until he realised. It was a plea. It would always be a plea—because he would never need permission to worship her.

She leaned back, still holding on to him by his shirt, her lips not even remotely as swollen as he wanted to make them, the flush on her cheeks nowhere near what it would be when they were done. Her large sapphire gaze, open, vulnerable and showing all of her wants, was utterly irresistible.

‘Please, Helena,’ he all but begged. ‘Stop me now.’

Helena dropped her gaze to his chest, her brow just slightly furrowed.

‘Is that what you want?’ she asked, refusing to meet his gaze.

‘Not for the entire world,’ he answered with raw honesty.

---