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“Traditionally, Greek children are named after their grandparents.” He motioned for her to exit the house ahead of him. “Though I understand that we might want to come to a compromise on that.”
Compromise. It wasn’t a word she’d expected to find in his vocabulary.
“What are your grandparents’ names?” she asked.
His look darkened. “I don’t know.”
She wanted to smack herself. He was an orphan for crying out loud, of course he didn’t know his grandparents’ names. That’s what he’d meant by compromise. He was being facetious.
“I am so sorry, I wasn’t thinking…” Ugh. What a callous question to ask. “That was really insensitive.”
Tears welled up in her eyes, and she huffed angrily. Dammit! Her hormones were starting to bounce around like ping pong balls. This wasn’t something to cry over, especially given she had avoided crying over so many other more important things. But that look of hurt on his face had been a knife to her gut.
A fat tear dropped onto her cheek, and she brushed it away, anger and mortification mixing into her bloodstream.
“It’s fine. Don’t cry.” Nico’s hands came to her face, his thumb brushing the tear from her cheek. The touch echoed the way he’d called her name before—familiar and sweet. “I was being a smart-ass.”
“It’s these damn hormones.” She shook her head. But the frustration had melted the second he’d touched her, turned to nothingness by the flame sparking deep inside her. Now she was uncomfortable for a whole new reason. “But I am sorry.”
“You’re forgiven.” A smile curved on his full lips, and Marianna wondered for a second if she was staring at the mouth of the devil. It was so wicked, so sinfully beautiful it wasn’t possible for him to be human.
They stood in the golden evening light, the scent of flowers heavy on the warm breeze, swirling around them like they were the very center of the universe.
He was going to kiss her. Realization shot through her like a bullet, tearing her insides apart. What should she do? How should she react? Did she even want this?
Yes.
The word evaporated like steam when his lips came down to hers, his hands still holding her face, gentle and yet firm. There was no hesitation, no teasing or anticipation. He wanted to kiss her and so he commanded that her lips submit. A soft groan echoed in the back of her throat as his tongue slid into her mouth and she curled her hands into his shirt.
Until then, their bodies had been close but not touching. He changed that by snaking his arm around her waist and pulling her close to him. Warmth flooded her body, melting her from the inside. She’d never been held like this before—so tender and yet…wild.
Nico backed them up against the side of the house and wedged a leg between hers. Holy. Freaking. Hell. Sparks flared behind her shuttered lids at the contact, and she was assaulted by memories of them together in his pool. Of the way he made her come with only that insistent rubbing touch. Marianna burned as though she’d gripped the gates to hell with her bare hands.
“God, I’ve wanted this…” His mouth was at her jaw. Her neck. Teeth pulling on her earlobe. Scraping her skin. “So bad. So fucking bad. Every goddamn night.”
He wanted her? Or just this…the physical. Her mind spun. “What?”
He pressed his lips over hers, kissing her like a man starved and sliding his hands down her back, curving around her bottom. God. His erection dug into her belly.
“This,” he growled. “You. Every night I crawl into bed and pray to God that you won’t be able to tell how turned on I am. That you won’t be able to tell how much I want to roll you beneath me.”
She tried to respond, but her mouth could only make sounds rather than words. He was kneading her backside, rocking his hips against her.
“I want it too,” she whispered.
“Tonight.” There it was again—a promise? Or a threat? “We go to bed. Together.”
“Just tonight?” she whispered.
“Ask me in the morning.” He rested his forehead against hers. “Because right now I want to tell you to get your ass back inside this house so I can treat you like a real wife.”
The words sent a ripple through her. “I don’t even know what that means, but I want it.”
He chuckled. “It means I want to make you feel good, Marianna. I want to treat you the way I should have been treating you. Not like you were a signature on a document, but like a real-life woman. My woman.”
“And that means I can treat you like my man.”
“Yes.” He dragged in a ragged breath. “But not now. We shouldn’t keep the doctor waiting.”
…
Nico couldn’t remember the last time he’d been truly awestruck.
The screen sitting beside Marianna showed a black-and-white image that shifted and flexed as the doctor moved the ultrasound wand. He hadn’t been sure what to expect. She was a little over twelve weeks pregnant. But the image clearly showed a child, with a head and tiny bump for a nose.
“At this stage there’s a big increase in your circulating blood volume,” Dr. Anastakis said. He had an English accent and spoke with clipped efficiency. “Your heart is working overtime to supply adequate oxygen to both you and the baby. Your red blood cell count will be much higher now, which means you need to eat lots of iron-rich foods, okay? That’s high-quality red meat, green leafy vegetables, beans, and legumes. We also recommend taking supplements for magnesium and folate.”
