Not that he let anyone that close.
A strange thought in the midst of a damn strange moment. He needed to shove it away.
Like Mother always shoved you away when you tried to soothe, help, love?
“Maybe you should go, even if she didn’t ask,” Ari was saying around the aftershocks currently rocking his system. “Even if you don’t have a relationship with your grandmother, that must be a terrible weight on your mother. She might need support herself. If you go—”
“I have offered her every conceivable help,” he said, sharp and firm. “She wants none of it.” A good reminder to himself as much as telling Ari.
She pressed her lips together, then took another few steps so only the desk was between them. “Perhaps she wants your presence over what your money can buy to help, Zervou.”
He laughed, low and harsh. Bitterness seemed to seep into his very bloodstream. “You do not know my mother.”
“No,” she agreed. “But I do know help and support do not have to mean the same thing.”
He frowned at her. The words made no sense. How did one support if not with help? And if his mother wanted none of his help, what did hissupportmatter? Being there solved nothing if she wouldn’t allow him to take on any of the burden.
Then Ari did the oddest thing. She set her bag on the floor and skirted the desk to come stand next to him. Then, without any sort of preamble, she wrapped her arms around him.
She was warm. Her hair smelled of whatever she sprayed in it before she went to the gym in the mornings.
His heart felt heavy in his chest. An old ache stationed there, courtesy of his mother.
But with new hooks. All belonging to Ari.
Ari felt him relax, bit by bit. And so she held on. Her arms around him, her cheek pressed to his chest. Slowly, his arms came up around her too.
So they were hugging.
She’d had no real idea how to comfort him, only known that she wanted to. Needed to. Yes, things had been…a little odd between them since Paris, but she could hardly let that oddness be a reason not to offer comfort.
He’d looked so utterly lost at the idea that support and help might be two different things. And maybe he felt nothing for his grandmother, she could understand that, but sheknewhe felt complicated things for his mother.
And she wanted to help, somehow, but there was no way. So all she had to offer was support. A friendly hug. Some compassion.
She should pull away now.
But Zervou’s large hand slid down her spine, and friendly and comfort began to fizzle into something else. Heat. Ache. All the things they’d been denying.
She cleared her throat and disentangled herself from him. She forced a cheerful kind of smile to beam up at him. But didn’t quite manage to hold it.
Because he found her mouth with his. Hard and unyielding. Desperate, if she had to find a word for it.
She’d wanted to offer comfort, and maybe this wasn’t the right way to go about it, but it felt too late now. Or maybe she’d just missed the feeling of his body on hers. It shouldn’t be something she’d had long enough to miss, and yet she had. If they’d ever had…this.
His kiss was soft, searching, seeking. And in return she offered herself to him. Not just heat and need but the softness inside of her. Into the kiss. Into him.
Her heart ached, as if he’d landed a nasty punch to it.
Perhaps he had. Because she could not deny this love she felt for him, swamping her. Swamping the moment. It was no doubt leaking into the kiss, into him, and he would be forced to reject her.
Sheneeded to reject it. The lesson of her life.Don’t believe in anything too good to be true.It never was.
She pulled away, but that hurt nearly as much as the idea of loving him did, so she kept her arms around him and pressed her forehead into this chest.
And he held her there, like it was where she belonged.
Pain erupted in her chest, hurt so much, tears filled her eyes. One even slipped over, and she moved to wipe it away quickly so he wouldn’t see. It wouldn’t do for him to see. Whatever she was feeling, whatever was being rearranged inside her was her own. All her feelings, always, her own. Everything her own responsibility.
