Page 90 of Modern Romance March 2025 (5-8)

Rafe

IGLANCE OUTthe window of my limo as it pulls into the circle drive of the villa. Yes, I’m hoping for a glimpse of my wife. It’s been two days since our rooftop dinner. Two days since what I referred to as Tessa’s first lesson, one that left me clinging to the last vestiges of my self-control.

The morning and afternoon after our dinner, it was understandable that I didn’t even glimpse my wife. I had plenty of things to focus on, worked to accomplish, and I knew the same was true for her, even if I didn’t agree with her methods or how she was conducting her business. But that night, she had sent word through James that she would not be joining me for dinner, pleading exhaustion.

Fine. I could accept that. Except last night was a repeat of the same. When I failed to see her this morning before I left for a meeting in town, I concluded that my wife was avoiding me.

Like so many things with Tessa, it shouldn’t provoke me. But it does.

She had seemed more than satisfied by our encounter on the rooftop. Unfortunately, it had left me wanting, too, craving her as I had never craved another woman.

James appeared. “Good afternoon, sir,” he said with a slight bow.

“Good afternoon, James. Is Mrs. Drakos in?”

“Yes, sir. She’s in the gym.”

I take the stairs down to the lower level. A few empty rooms occupy the space down here, including the state-of-the-art gym that Lucifer had installed but never used. If I recall correctly, it was for one of my father’s numerous girlfriends who imagined herself to be the next social media darling of the fitness world. A short-lived notion, especially after she chose to pursue a much younger millionaire over my father who was nearly three times her age.

I walk by the wall of glass that separates the hall from the gym, look up, then stop. Tessa is facing away from me, her legs straddling a weight bench as she slowly but steadily lifts two dumbbells overhead. She’s wearing nothing but a red sports bra and black shorts molded to the curves of her backside and thighs. As I watch, entranced, she reaches the peak of the lift, holds the dumbbells aloft. The muscles in her back quiver but hold steady. Then, just as slowly, she lowers them back down.

Another glimpse of the woman my wife has become when she had the freedom to spread her wings.

I enter the gym, calling out a soft greeting so as not to startle her. Tessa glances over her shoulder, giving me a cautious smile.

“Hello.”

“Hello.” I glance around the gym, taking in the high-end rowing machine, the rack of free weights and the mirrors lining two of the walls. “I’m glad someone is finally utilizing the space.”

“I’m supposed to be working out several times a week, if not almost every day.” She slowly puts her dumbbells on the floor. “It’s been great having this here.”

She’s distant. More so than she was when she came up and saw that romantic tabletop set for two the other night. My attempt at an olive branch. As angry as I was with her for pushing our first night here in Corfu, I overreacted. Offering her dinner had been a way to smooth things over between us, to get us back on track. My suggestion of completing her first lesson had been spur of the moment, driven as much by desire to taste her again as to advance our arrangement. I hadn’t expected her to withdraw afterward.

“If you ever need a workout partner, let me know. I’m usually up by four.”

She smiles as she shakes her head. “It is my fervent hope that one day, Rafe, you will simply do something because you want to, not because you have to.”

I don’t know how to respond to that, so I focus on something I can do. A small refrigerator hums in the corner, fully stocked with bottled water. I grab one and hold it up. At her nod, I walk over and hand it to her. My fingers brush hers. The heat of her skin is noticeable after grasping the cold bottle. A spark arcs between us. Her gaze snaps up to mine as she lifts the bottle to her lips.

Théos, the simple act of her drinking from a bottle makes me hard. A bead of sweat slides down her chest, disappearing between her breasts. The need to taste her is a hunger I’ve never experienced before.

She sets the bottle down and then looks up at me with her caramel-colored eyes. Her gaze drifts down to my growing hardness. My blood heats as her lips part and she sucks in a shuddering breath.

When she looks back up at me, the lust in her eyes is tinged with an endearing shyness. One that makes me pause despite the strength of my own desire pumping through me. I want her. I want her so bad it hurts.

But I can’t ignore the dark voice whispering in my head. The one that whispers Tessa deserves far better than a man like me.

I barely bite back a groan as she sinks her teeth into her lower lip.

“I think now would be a good time for lesson number two.”

All rational thoughts fly out of my head. I walk to a point just behind her and straddle the bench, easing myself down until I’m just behind her. My hand settles on her stomach. The sound of her inhaling, coupled with the heat of her skin searing my palm, sears itself into my brain. I pull her back against me, press my hardness into the curves of her backside. When she pushes against my erection, I have to steel myself against the urge to just take her right then and there.

I could have taken her up on her offer in Paris. Taken her back to her apartment, introduced her to sex in that one night, and then come back to Greece. My inheritance secure and no further dealings with the woman who would soon be my ex-wife.

Except even just the thought of doing so felt…wrong. Tessa deserves more. I can’t give her what she needs when it comes to marriage. But with this, I can take things a step further. Push my boundaries just enough to give her an experience she’ll never forget.

Even when she moves on with her life. Another man.

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