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He stepped closer, the smoky scent of whiskey filling her senses as he set his glittering blue gaze on hers. “I don’t need your understanding. What I need from you is less complication.”
Her chin came up. “It took two of us to produce this particular complication.”
His eyes moved over her in a hot, deliberate appraisal that melted her insides. “And it was a hell of a good time doing it, wasn’t it? That kind of comfort I can take. Otherwise, go to bed.”
Her mouth dropped open. Nails biting into her palms she stood there staring at him. He was hurting, no doubt about it. Had ghosts she’d barely scratched the surface of. But that wasn’t going to happen.
Spinning on her heel, she stalked inside.
* * *
Nik took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, his hands gripping the railing as he leaned back and flexed his arms. Sofi´a telling him how to feel, how to manage the maelstrom of emotions storming his head after the day he’d just had was too much. Much too much.
You need to give yourself time to grieve. When was there time to grieve when he spent every waking hour trying to find his way out of this hell he’d been bequeathed? Of course he was angry with Athamos. Furious with his brother for playing not only with his own life but with his, as well. For landing him back in an arena where his father had made it clear he didn’t belong. Athamos’s domain. Athamos the born diplomat.
And maybe his father had been right. Hadn’t he walked right into Idas’s trap today? Done exactly what he’d expected him to? What everyone had expected him to—the reckless, rebel prince turned king? Proved them all right about him?
He would rectify his mistake, he knew he would. He was mostly furious with himself for allowing his emotions to get the best of him. His weakness. What his father called his Achilles’ heel.
He brought the tumbler to his mouth and downed the rest of the whiskey. But it wasn’t having its usual dulling effect. He was too tense, too on edge. When he was like this, when a shot of something strong couldn’t block out the furor in his head there was only one thing that could relax him, and that one thing had just turned on her heel and walked away from him. Had made it clear there would be no sex until they reached an understanding of each other.
Well, she had that wrong. This marriage might have been thrust upon him, along with everything else he’d acquired over the past month, but he’d be damned if he was going to sacrifice the physical aspect of his relationship with Sofi´a when it was the part they did so spectacularly well.
He turned on his heel and strode inside. Sofi´a was standing in front of the mirror, brushing her hair. It fell down her back like a dark silk curtain, contrasting with her honey-colored skin bestowed upon her by her Chilean heritage.
Heat moved through him. She was so beautiful, so desirable, what she had done to him, manufacturing a pregnancy, had no impact on his lust. It only made him want to have her more.
He deposited his glass on the coffee table with a deliberate movement. Sofi´a’s wary gaze met his in the mirror as he walked up behind her and rested his hands on her hips. “This looks fantastic on you, glykeia mou.”
She kept the brush strokes going, rhythmically over and over. “I put the nightie on because the maid took my T-shirt. I haven’t changed my mind, Nik. Get your hands off me.”
“No.” He lowered his mouth to her bare shoulder, scraping his teeth across her delicate skin. Her involuntary shudder made him smile. “Your body says yes.”
“And I’m saying no.” Her gaze speared his in the mirror. “You accused me of trapping you into marriage, Nik. You threatened to take my child away. As if you don’t know me. Until we regain our trust in each other, this isn’t happening.”
Fire heated his gaze. “So you fell into the trap of wanting more. I’m past it, Sofi´a. I’m moving on. You should, too. Why drag this out?”
She threw the brush on the dresser and spun around. “The only thing I’m guilty of is wanting to be closer to you that night, Nik. There was no risk in my mind. If you really want me to come around, then start wrapping your head around a real relationship where we actually communicate. We’re going to need it to get through this.”
His gaze darkened. “And what would you like out of that real relationship now that you have it, Sofi´a? Let’s get all our cards on the table. Would you like to talk like we did tonight? Are you looking for love perhaps? Or does your inability to make yourself vulnerable rule that out?”
