Irresistible Greeks: Unsuitable and Unforgettable: At His Majesty's Request / The Fallen Greek Bride / Forgiven but not Forgotten?

“It’s not exactly ignoring it, I admit. But we both know you can’t just not contact her at all over the next month.”

His stomach tightened. “I know.”

“Don’t you have a celebration ball coming up for when Eva and Makhail return from their honeymoon? It’s on the copy of your schedule I received and I thought it would be the perfect opportunity for you to be seen with Victoria.”

“Oh, yes. I had forgotten.”

“She should go to that. With you. Give a hint as to your developing relationship. That way your people can really look forward to the engagement announcement.”

His people. That was what all of this was about. His country. His heart. He had thrown himself into it, completely, into planning what he would do to make it better, to heal it. And that was why he was marrying Victoria.

He couldn’t lose sight of it. But it was so easy to do when Jessica filled his vision. So easy to simply let his desire for her color everything. That was emotion. That was weakness. He could not afford it.

Just right now, it was okay though. Just for this moment in time. He moved to her, unable to stand apart from her any longer. Unable to be so close yet not touching her.

He sifted his fingers through silken strands of blond hair. “I missed you,” he said. He wasn’t sure why he said it, even though it was true.

He wasn’t certain that level of honesty had a place in their arrangement. But he wasn’t sure what else he should say, either. Wasn’t sure what to hold back and what to give.

Holding anything back when Jessica was around seemed an impossibility. He wasn’t sure he wanted to, and that was a new feeling entirely.

Lust he’d dealt with. He’d put it aside when he had to, embraced it when it was convenient. He’d never been controlled by it. But it had never before been accompanied by this strange … ache. An ache that seemed to spread through his body, sink down deep into his bones, beyond, down into his soul.

Wanting Jessica was painful. And it was more real than anything in his recent memory. He craved it. Because it was better than not being near her. Than not wanting her. He wasn’t sure what kind of madness it was, only that for now he wanted to drink it in.

“Jessica, I want to kiss you.”

She nodded, her gaze level with his. “I’m game. I like it when you kiss me.” She had a bit of her false bravado in place, but it was all right. One of them needed to keep their guard up, and he wasn’t certain he could.

When his mother had died, he had been the only one to hold himself together. He had been the one to pick up and move forward. He hadn’t been allowed to grieve. Hadn’t had time to feel. He had closed down.

But he couldn’t shut these feelings off. Couldn’t staunch the flow of emotion that seemed to bleed inside of him like a hidden wound. When he looked at Jessica, he had no control.

“I want to do more than that. I want to make love with you tonight. But you tell me, if it hurts. And I’ll stop. I don’t care how hard it is for me to stop, I will. I would never hurt you.” Even as he said the words he feared they weren’t true. Not that he wouldn’t stop making love with her if it hurt, he was confident he would do that.

But he feared he might hurt her emotionally. That he might have a part in causing her further pain that way. He didn’t want to, but to avoid it he would have to turn back. And at this point, even that would hurt her.

More than that, he feared what would happen to himself. Selfish, maybe. But he felt like he was standing at the edge of a fire, toying with the idea of touching the flame. Then throwing himself into it.

They were in too deep to escape unscathed. But then, maybe they had been from the beginning. That connection—instant, seemingly physical—had been more from the moment they’d met.

She nodded slowly. “I want that. And I’m not even nervous. Which is crazy but I just … know it will be good. That I’ll be good.”

“Something I have no doubt about,” he said, forcing words through his tightened throat.

She laughed. “I’m glad.”

“Oh, Jess, you are the most beautiful woman. The most fascinating. Bewitching.” He kissed her. Her lips were so soft, so warm. They heated him, all the way through his body, his blood burning in his veins, his body getting hard.

She parted her lips and angled her head, her hand pressed to his cheek. He took advantage of the move and slid his tongue into her mouth, sliding it against hers, the intimate action sending a hard kick of lust through him.

It roared in him like a beast, one that demanded satisfaction. That demanded he lay her down in the sand and take what he needed. That he use her to fill the emptiness inside of him. Because she could. She was the only one who could.

He put his hands on her hips, braced her. Braced him. He curled his fingers in, gripped the full skirt of her dress tightly in his palms. He wouldn’t do that to her. He wouldn’t make this hard and fast, he wouldn’t make it about his satisfaction.

He would give to her. He would control his own need. He would master it.

It was Jessica who changed the game. Jessica who moved her hands over his chest, down to where he was hard and ready for her. She was a mass of contradictions, his Jessica. So confident in giving pleasure. So hesitant to receive it.