Blood instantly raced to his sex, and he was aware once again of that primal need to have her, possess her, tame the storm that lived within her.
“I haven’t shoved my tongue down your throat,” he said, his voice thick with want and desire. He entered their bedroom and set her on her feet.
“Not yet, but you’re about to,” she said, wiggling against him, her hands in his hair as she pulled him down.
She was right. He couldn’t kiss her without tasting her, reveling in the sweetness of her mouth.
“Make love to me,” she purred, and he couldn’t resist her.
“I don’t want to hurt you.”
“You won’t.” Her hands stroked him through the material of his trousers, her mouth warm on his as she released him into her hands. “I want to watch you, though. I want you on top.”
He looked down at her big belly even as he stripped her of the soft dress she’d put on after her bath. He looked at the bed, taking a quick visual measurement, then scanned the room before reaching behind her to get a couple of pillows and the body pillow she used when she didn’t have him to rest her belly on, arranging them on the desk that sat in the corner. “You will tell me if anything hurts. You will tell me if anything is even vaguely uncomfortable.”
“Oooh,” she said, looking interested as he dragged a blanket over and laid it on top of the pillow nest. “Kinky! I like how you think.”
“Hardly kinky, but if you want me on top, this is the best I can do.” He removed the rest of his clothing, helping her up onto the desk. “Are you comfortable? Does that hurt your back? Is the table too close to the wall?”
“Yacky,” she said, grabbing him by his hips and pulling her toward him. “Too much talking, not enough making your wife wild with pleasure.”
He was hot and hard and just wanted to lose himself in her heat, but now was not the time for that. He slid his hands up her thighs until she opened for him, his penis rubbing against her belly as he braced his hands on either side of her, leaning down to swirl his tongue over one nipple.
“Oh god,” she moaned, relaxing against the wedge of pillows he’d created for her. Her legs slid along his as she dug her fingers into the muscles of his shoulders, her touch sending little rivulets of fire straight to his groin. He wanted her ready for him, so he set about driving her wild, using his hands and mouth to stir her passions until her body was writhing on the pillows and she demanded that he take care of her right that moment before she died of frustration.
He kept his stroke shallow, the sensation of her full womb almost driving him past the bearing point as he moved slowly, watching her eyes go all dewy and soft when she pulled him down for a kiss even as her muscles tightened around him, sending a shudder of exquisite pleasure through him.
“Now that,” she told him later as she snuggled into bed and settled herself against and on him, “was one hell of a wedding night, and well worth all the waiting.”
He lay awake late into the night, just listening to her breathing, stroking the warm flesh of her body that he knew as well as his own.
CHAPTER 22
The problem of Theo niggled at Harry’s mind, and she never was one to tolerate a niggle for long.
Something was up with him and Iakovos. Theo’s return for their wedding apparently signaled some sort of a change in the brothers’ relationship. Theo seemed to lose his lighthearted, semi-flirtatious self to a darker, more somber version who spent his time casting sour looks at both her and Iakovos.
“I’m glad you’re home again,” Harry had told him two days after she and Iakovos had returned to Athens following a honeymoon spent in blissful happiness on the island. “Did you have a good time in Brazil?”
“Don’t you mean am I drinking again?” he asked, his eyes angry.
“That isn’t what I meant at all. I was just inquiring if you had a good time while you were wheeling and dealing in São Paolo. Theo . . .” She hated to be the cause of any sort of strife between him and Iakovos. “I worry about you. I know you think you’re perfectly in control, but sometimes people need a little help with . . . things.”
“You’d like that, wouldn’t you? To see me shut away in some clinic?” He started to turn away from her, but stopped when she put her hand on his arm.
“No, of course I don’t want that. I really don’t want you unhappy, you know.”
He swung around, his eyes blazing, and she knew real fear a second before he shoved her against the wall, his fingers biting into her shoulders as he ground his mouth against hers.
She tried to shift so she could get her knee up, but her body was slow and awkward these days. It was all she could do to wrestle one arm free to grab his hair, and try to yank his horrible mouth off hers.
Suddenly he was gone, and she gasped for air, wiping her mouth with her sleeve, shaking with horror as Dmitri stood with his back to her, shielding her from Theo.
Theo’s lip was split, blood dripping down onto his shirtfront.
“I don’t have an issue with you, Dmitri,” he snarled. “Stay the hell out of my business.”
“I sure as hell have one with you,” Dmitri answered, and nailed Theo with a punishing right.
Theo looked surprised for a half second before collapsing.
“Man, I wish I could have done that,” Harry said, more than a little shaky. She rubbed her arms as Dmitri turned back to her, his face black with anger.
“Did he hurt you?”
“No. Just scared the crap out of me. He’s been drinking again, Dmitri. I could . . . taste it.” She shuddered at the memory of his hard mouth on hers. “Oh god, Iakovos is going to kill him.”
Dmitri looked grim as he bent down, hoisting his cousin over his shoulder. “It’ll serve him right for going after you that way.”
“It’s not me he’s trying to hurt.” Harry tried to get a grip on herself. “He’s just using me to strike out at Iakovos.”
“This can’t go on,” Dmitri said, gesturing toward the fallen Theo. “I’ll tell Iakovos.”
“No.” She came to a decision. “I will. You get him out of the way. Hopefully he’ll have enough sense to lay low for a bit.”
“He’s not to be trusted, Harry.”
“I know. But he needs help, Dmitri, not banishment or worse. I’ll talk to Iakovos. I’ll get him to see reason.”
She spent the rest of the day online, doing some shopping for much-needed baby furniture and accoutrements but spending the bulk of her time using a translating service to read about various alcoholic treatment centers in Greece.
By the time she climbed into bed, she’d come to a decision. Iakovos held a book on his lap, obviously having just stuffed one of hers under the pillow.
“Enjoying that?” she asked, nodding at the book.
“It’s excellent,” he said, glancing at the book, then sliding her a look out of the corner of his eye as he turned it right side up.
“I’m so glad. That’s one of my favorite authors, too. Have you ever heard of a place called the Neo Center?”
He started to answer, but stopped when his gaze narrowed on her shoulders. “You hurt yourself?” he asked, nodding toward them.
She looked down and realized that Theo’s grip had given her little bruises on either arm. “Uh . . . yeah.”
“What did you do?”
“Um . . . I don’t really remember,” she said, miserable. She hated lying, and especially hated doing it to Iakovos.
“Eglantine,” he said, setting the book down and turning to face her. “You will cease lying to me. What happened to your arms?”
“Yacky—” she began, trying to think of something she might have done.
“No, Harry,” he said, lifting her chin so he could stare into her eyes. “The truth.”
She took a long, sorrowful breath. “Theo—”
That was all she got out. He snarled in Greek what she knew was a really rude word, then snatched up a silk bathrobe and headed straight to Theo’s bedroom.
/> “Wait!” Harry yelled, fighting to get out of bed. “It takes me longer to get up, damn you! Iakovos! Don’t you do anything until I get there!”
She struggled into her own bathrobe as she followed, running barefoot after him. Theo wasn’t in his room, and for a moment she thought perhaps he’d gone, but a roar of anger from the living room told her that Iakovos had found his brother.
She got to them just as Iakovos ripped a bottle of vodka from Theo’s hand and smashed it against the wall opposite. Harry stared in shock; she’d never seen Iakovos so angry before. He snarled something in Greek to Theo, who answered in kind, shoving his brother away and stalking toward the bar.
Iakovos yelled again, and the two started going at it hammer and tongs. Harry stood in the hallway, one hand clutching the neck of her bathrobe as the two brothers screamed at each other. She didn’t need to speak the language to know that Iakovos was furious and telling Theo that his drinking days were over.
Theo made the mistake of yelling something at the same time he reached across the bar for a bottle. Iakovos roared in fury, shoving him aside to snatch up the bottles that sat in a tidy row, hurling accusations as he threw each bottle against the stone wall.
Mrs. Avrabos appeared in the door that led to the kitchen and her own rooms. Her eyes were huge as she watched Iakovos destroy every bottle of liquor in the house. Her gaze slipped back to Harry, who said quietly, “I’m sorry you have to see this.”
“It is time,” the older woman said with a nod toward Iakovos before silently slipping back into the kitchen.
Theo stumbled away from Iakovos as the last bottle shattered against the wall. The brown and white stones were stained with every color possible, greens and reds of liquors mingling garishly with wine, rum, and even beer, the whole dripping into a huge, muddy pool on the floor. Glass lay splintered everywhere, an ugly, stark reminder of Iakovos’ fury in the middle of an otherwise pristine room.
Iakovos turned toward her, his face hard, his eyes glittering as if lit from deep within. He caught sight of her and yelled at Theo, “If you lay so much as one finger on my wife again, I’ll kill you myself!”
She didn’t say a word when he put his hand on her back and gently pushed her toward their room. She did glance back to see Theo standing in the middle of the room, his pants splattered with alcohol, his head down.
She wanted to talk to Iakovos, to reassure him that she was fine, that Theo could be helped, but one look at his tight jaw told her that talk was not going to happen. She let him help her into bed, then lay with him curled behind her, his hand protectively over her belly.
She’d wait until the morning, and then she would try to reason with both men.
“Well, this is a surprise,” she said eight hours later, when she staggered out to the kitchen in search of a hot cup of tea.
Iakovos stood at one counter, a mug in one hand, a breakfast roll in the other as he eyed the financial pages of a newspaper spread out before him. Mrs. Avrabos bustled around looking happy, the smell of cinnamon and orange filling the kitchen. On the other side of Iakovos, Dmitri stood with his laptop propped up on a stack of newspapers, a cinnamon roll hanging from his mouth as he typed furiously.
“What’s a surprise?” Iakovos asked, glancing up and giving her a little waggle of his eyebrows.
She tried not to grin. She’d woken up early in a strange mood, half aroused but feeling too heavy and awkward to benefit from any attentions Iakovos would pay her. So instead, she saw to it that he started his morning in a way guaranteed to put him in a good mood.
“Well, for one, you’re in a suit, and I thought you were going to take me shopping today because you secretly fear our babies will be sleeping in drawers because we have no furniture for them—not, I’d like to point out, that it’s all my fault, since Patricia is dragging her feet with her decorating bit, but still, you’re in the suit that makes you look like your name should be Adonis Adonisopolis, and back on the bachelor list. Which means you’ve got meetings on your agenda today, and not baby shopping. And for another, there’s him.” She nodded to where Theo sat at the small kitchen table, sipping coffee.
“What about him?” Iakovos asked.
“I assumed after the row last night that you guys weren’t speaking to each other.”
All three men looked surprised. Mrs. Avrabos shook her head, and offered her a freshly made orange roll from a plate piled high with them. Harry, feeling it was a sin against nature to turn down any fresh-baked item, took the entire plate and sat down with it.
“Of course we’re speaking,” Iakovos said, giving her an odd look.
“Yeah, but you were yelling at each other. You trashed all the booze in the house.”
“We’re Greek, sweetheart. We yell when we get angry,” Iakovos said, turning his attention back to the newspaper.
“You know, if I said something that stereotypical, you’d never let me hear the end of it,” she said, glancing at Theo.
He gave her a long look, then put down his mug, and got to his knees, taking her hand in his. “I’m very sorry about yesterday, Harry. Jake was right—I was out of control, and I feel awful that you got the brunt of that. I swear to you that it won’t happen again. Forgive me?”
He smiled up at her with the old Theo charm, and although she couldn’t help but feel that alcoholics did not reform so quickly as that, she was so relieved to see the return of his normal self that she didn’t quibble. “Of course I will, although you don’t have to be on your knees. You look like you’re going to propose to me.”
He laughed and kissed the back of her hand, his eyes dancing as he said, “Maybe I should. Would you leave that old man for me, hmm?”
“Not in a million years. I happen to be madly in love with that old man.”
Iakovos shot her an indignant look.
“That incredibly sexy, devastatingly handsome, formerly ranked five most hunkalicious man of the year, I should say.”
Iakovos nodded, setting down his coffee mug, and before Harry could say anything more, he swooped down on her, making her giggle as he snogged her neck.
“I do have meetings today, my tempestuous beauty, but I have not forgotten your doctor’s appointment this afternoon. In addition, I am happy to lend you Mikos to take you around to the shops so my poor children don’t have to sleep in cardboard boxes.”
“What you could do is prod Patricia. I’ve left her three voice mails in the last few days, and she’s not answering any of them. I think she’s deliberately trying to punish us.”
“I’m sure she’ll get to it,” was all he said before heading to the living room. “I’ll tell Mikos to come back here after he drops us off.”
“You don’t need to do that,” she answered, feeling restless for some reason.
“I don’t, but I am.”
Harry watched as he stuffed his laptop into a bag, shuffled through a few papers and tossed them into his briefcase. He looked every inch a billionaire businessman, ready to make deals that would boggle the mortal mind. Who would he be meeting with today? Some equally rich Arab looking for a new real estate investment? An Asian conglomerate that wanted a new resort? Or perhaps some überskinny, nonpregnant blond heiress who saw him in a magazine and instantly desired his manly body? “I just bet she does,” she muttered.
He gave her a knowing eye. “You’re writing dialogue in your head again, aren’t you?”
“Yes.”
“I liked it better when your mouth told me what you were thinking,” he grumbled.
“Oh, trust me, my love,” she said, slipping her arm through his. “In this case, you really don’t. Would it do any good to point out that I’m perfectly able to drive myself now that I have a driver’s license here?”
“Would that be the same driver’s license that you couldn’t obtain until you called me up to ask how to spell your last name?”
She flared her nostrils at him. “The clerk was being obnoxious about it. And besides, I don’t know why I h
ave to be able to spell everything! I’m a writer! Spell-check is my best friend!”
“The answer is no, Harry,” he said with a pointed look at her massive stomach.
“Pregnant women can drive,” she pointed out.
“Not my pregnant woman,” he said, and patted her on the butt as he left, Dmitri following with a wink at her.
Theo was a few steps behind them, pausing as he glanced back at Harry. “Friends again?”
“Of course,” she said, telling herself she was an idiot to be uneasy.
“If there’s one thing I’ve learned over the years,” Harry told Mikos a couple of hours later, “it’s to pick my battles. There’s simply no sense in making a big deal over the fact that your boss wants me to be driven everywhere.”
“I hope not,” Mikos said as he gestured toward the waiting limo. “Good jobs are hard to find these days.”
“It’s just that I feel so . . . ugh . . . movie star in a limo. Can we take that other car, the smaller one?”
“The BMW?” Mikos shrugged. “It’s up to you.”
She was soon settled in the much more—to her mind anyway—reasonable car, and consulting a list she had printed the day before, she spent the morning crossing off a significant number of items before deciding she had earned a little reward for such hard work. “What do you think, Mikos? Lunch at the café next to the Archaeological Museum? The one on Patission Street? We can grab a quick lunch there before tackling the last few things on the list.”
“Whatever you like, pretty lady.” Mikos hummed along to a song on the radio. She had to admit that she was grateful Iakovos had insisted she take Mikos for the day—not only had it been less stressful to be driven than to cope with the noise and traffic of Athens, but he’d served as an excellent translator when needed.
All in all, she was pleased with herself. That feeling stayed with her until Mikos announced that there was no parking near the café. “I will drop you off in front of it and find somewhere else to park.”
“Sounds good. I am feeling the heat a bit today, so I really don’t relish the thought of walking out in that sun too long.”