Page 46 of Love on the Rocks
Ithrew the cord around the metal rung in the concrete, tethering the last of the fishing boats to the harbor. The storm was rolling in quickly, and already the sea was an agitated sickly green.
I’d always loved storms here. They were dramatic and temperamental, like a message from the gods. As a kid, though, they terrified me so much I’d hide in the bathroom until my grandfather would make me come out and watch. Storms, he used to say, were nature’s way of talking to us and we had a duty to listen to what she was saying.
I couldn’t help but feel like this storm was personal. It was like watching everything that had been roiling around inside me, battling for release—burst free at last. My frustration with thethings I couldn’t change, my inability to protect this place from the encroaching world, and my damn inconvenient attraction for someone who was wrong for me in so many ways.
No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t get her out of my head. Every time I closed my eyes, there she was—naked and glistening in the early morning light, water lapping at her hips, water trickling over her luscious breasts—how was I supposed to get that image out of my head when it had been burned into my retinas, hell, into my very soul.
The first fat drops of rain felt cleansing, and I lifted my face up to the sky and let the wind whip past me. I was only vaguely aware of Yiannis’s voice yelling behind me.
“Niko! I just got a call from Miss Calista.” I rolled my eyes at the way he insisted on addressing her.
“And?”
“I don’t know. She said ‘help, help,’ and then the phone cut out. I went to her place, but there’s no one there.”
I was in motion before he even finished his sentence. What had she done now? She’d been up to something with Maria earlier, but it was no use trying to predict what she was capable of.
“Did you go inside?” I demanded as we sprinted toward her house.
“I peeked in the windows. There’s nothing.” Yiannis panted behind me.
I pounded at the door. No answer. Panic rose in my gut as I pushed the unlocked door open and rushed inside only to find the place empty and the terrace shutters flapping against the window. “Where the hell is she?”
Just then Giorgos appeared in the open doorway, a disgruntled expression on his face. “Not back yet?”
“What do you mean? Where did she go?”
“She took Sokratis over two hours ago. They went up that way.” He pointed toward the temple.
“Why would you let her do that?” Was he drunk? Giorgos never let Sokratis out of his sight.
He shrugged. “She said she had ponies. Sokratis likes her. Anyway, I thought you wanted to get rid of her.”
“What the fuck, Giorgos? I don’t want her to get hit by lightning.”
I headed off in the direction of the temple. The rain was coming down harder now and I stopped at the Vassilikis’ house to see if I could borrow one of their horses. It would take me a good half hour on foot and that could be too late.
I saddled their largest mare and took off. About halfway up the mountain, the rain and hail were coming down so hard I could only see a few feet in front of me. A shadowy shape near a gnarly old cedar caught my eye. A bedraggled Sokratis stood there munching on grass, a cloth bag filled with drenched greens hanging at his side. “Foraging salad greens in a storm. Un-fucking-believable.”
As I continued up the mountain, the storm began to subside. It had been violent, but the wind was pushing it back out to sea. Still, there weren’t many places to take cover up here, and I imagined her laying exposed to the elements on a rock somewhere. But as I neared the temple, I spotted her curled up under one of the arches.
She waved frantically and then stopped when she saw who had come to her rescue.
“Goddammit!” she cursed, and I smiled. She obviously wasn’t hurt if she was still able to spit venom.
“Where’s Yiannis?” she cried as I tied the horse to a nearby tree. “I called him for help not you.”
I held my palms up. “I’ll just leave you here then.”
“No! Don’t you dare!” She slid down off the stone ledge of the temple, eyeing me warily. Her hair was damp and wavy around her shoulders. The dress she’d been wearing earlier—some wispy white slip of fabric with beads—was now clinging to her wet flesh, the plunging neckline revealing the dewy skin of her cleavage.
If I’d doubted before that she was a magical nymph sent to tempt me, I no longer needed convincing. I was completely in her thrall, and it enraged me. So did her determination to defy me at every turn.
I stared at her ridiculous shoes, those damn strappy sandals, then let my eyes glide up her trembling body, from the soft curve of her hips to those gorgeous full breasts, rising rhythmically with her rapid breathing.
Her nipples were hard. And so was I.
“This is what you wear to go hiking?” I inched closer, so close I was able to finger the fabric of her delicate sleeves, thin as a spiderweb. “Do you even own a pair of sneakers?”
