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“Leonidas,” was all she managed to say, with no idea of what she wanted to ask of him. But then, he had one hand on either side of her armchair, and his face was so close to hers that she could see all the specks of colour in his eyes, from grey to brown to gold, and the tiny freckles that gave texture to his otherwise flawless face.
“Do you want to leave, Mila?” He asked softly, mockingly, because they both knew the answer. She licked her lower lip, seeking to moisten it, but it didn’t help.
“Or would you rather stay here,” he moved one hand to her knee, his thumb brushing the flesh there, before inching higher, to her thigh. She shuddered as pleasure overtook her, waves of it washing over her skin, covering her in goosebumps. “Disconnected from the world, from danger, from threat—just the two of us.”
“What are you suggesting?” She asked, because he’d kissed her twice and both times, had pulled away as though she were the devil. She needed him to be explicit now.
“That you should stay,” he said softly, the words rolling over her.
“Why?”
“Because you want to.” His hand went higher, and his lips pulled taut, into a frown, as if his own desires were at odds with what he should want. He was at war within himself, and at this moment, physical needs were winning.
“For now, yes,” she said with a small movement of her head, that signaled agreement. “But once my ankle is better, I have to leave.”
“And if you don’t want to?” he murmured, dropping his mouth to the curve of her neck and kissing the words against her sensitive flesh so she jumped a little in the chair, her nipples tingling against the cotton of her bra.
Temptation was flaring in her belly, but she grabbed hold of reality with both hands. “You’ll want me to,” she said after a beat. “You have your own life to get back to as well, Leonidas. You can only hide from your grief—and your family, your work—for so long.”
His eyes flashed to hers, slicing her with their intensity, and then he was standing, the coldness in his gaze in direct contradiction to the warmth firing inside her blood. “I’m not hiding, panemorfi. My grief is with me wherever I travel. It is impossible to avoid.”
The words softened her, and made her want to pull back from the argument, but at the same time, she needed him to understand.
“I’m very grateful to you,” she said after a charged moment of silence. “You’re going out of your way to help me, and I know that’s because of whatever happened between you and Benji, but I’m still appreciative. I recognize that you’re going above and beyond to help me. It’s very kind of you. But I refuse to go from being stalked by him to imprisoned by you, no matter how much I might…” she paused, swallowed, then forced herself to continue, “desire you.” Her nostrils flared with defiance. “When my ankle is better, I’m leaving, no matter the risk. I refuse to hide forever; I won’t give up on my dreams for anyone or anything, and I sure as hell won’t give up my freedom. Got it?”
