The Greek's Nine-Month Redemption

“Honored isn’t what you’re supposed to be.” She arched one finely groomed brow, her lips twisted into a sneer. She was so self-righteous when she was just as guilty as he was. So sure she was above this attraction that burned between them when she was just as enslaved.

He wanted her. The angrier he got with her, the more he wanted her. Whatever this thing was, the sick, twisted desire that was exploding between them, he couldn’t measure it or assign a number to account for it. He couldn’t parse it the way he could a business acquisition. It wasn’t the simple desire he felt for the sort of woman he usually picked up to spend a few hours of fun with. It was much, much darker.

It was forbidden. Something he had told himself he couldn’t have.

Perhaps that was why it was coming to bite him in the ass now. He didn’t typically practice restraint. Maybe by creating forbidden fruit, by placing it in the middle of his personal garden and telling himself he could not eat it, neither could he touch it, he had created temptation.

That made the most sense. Since Elle looked like original sin. A brilliant, shining apple he wanted to bite into.

And why shouldn’t he? His reasoning for resisting her didn’t matter now. He didn’t want to honor her father. And he still wanted to kiss that puckered expression off her face. So why the hell not?

“You don’t like me,” he said, that darkness compelling him now. “And yet, you do want me.”

“Come now, Apollo, don’t tell me you like every single one of your bed partners. We both know that sex isn’t love,” she said, tilting her chin upward, a faint blush spreading across her cheekbones, adding a kind of dissonance to her bold words.

Elle was certainly playing the part of experienced woman. She had gone up in flames in his arms, an equal participant in the conflagration. And yet, it didn’t all ring true. Didn’t quite piece together in a way that made sense.

He wasn’t sure he cared to analyze it. It wouldn’t change his actions either way.

“Perhaps. But sex and hate don’t typically go together,” he said. “And you claim to hate me.”

“I do,” she said, green eyes flashing. “I hate you for what you’ve done to my father. To me.”

“Not enough to leave the company.”

“That would be abandoning it altogether. What he built. What he’s trying to keep hold of, in spite of you. I won’t do that.”

“I do admire your dedication. Your loyalty.”

“Why do you admire my loyalty? You don’t possess any of your own.”

“We admire the things in others we struggle with ourselves, do we not?” he asked.

“I wouldn’t know. I certainly don’t admire anything in you.”

He chuckled, turning to face her, closing some of the distance between them. Her eyes widened and she backed against the wall. It reminded him a little bit too much of what had happened the last time they had been alone in an enclosed space together.

“I think there are a few things you admire about me,” he said, moving in a little bit closer. Her eyes widened, her pupils expanding, the green in her eyes reduced to a thin ring. Her mouth dropped open, soft and round, and begging to be kissed. To be explored. “You most certainly admire what I can do to your body. I think we both know that.”

“I do possess some restraint,” she said, her voice trembling.

“Do you?” he asked, his voice sounding rough, ragged even to his own ears. “Perhaps we should test it.”

He reached out and hit the stop button on the elevator, his stomach tightening, feeling as though a fist had closed around it.

He reached out and took hold of her arm, mimicking that day out by the pool.

“You want me,” he said. “Admit it.”