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He narrows his eyes and flares his nostrils. In less than ten minutes, I’ve seen more emotion from Aris than in the hours we spent together yesterday. I try to avoid staring at his chiseled chest, but it’s right there and oh, so beautiful. Even the patchwork of scars he bears seems to pay homage to him.
I drag my eyes to his mismatched pair. “So… we should probably talk about yesterday. And whatever else you’re keeping from me.”
He shutters his gaze, locking me out. I choke back my disappointment.
“You regret what we did.” His matter-of-fact manner dampens the revelatory experience.
Shame washes over me and I bow my head. While waiting for him to speak, I twist the sheet in my lap. I swallow time and again. The words that would reveal too much refuse to stay down, clawing their way up my throat until they triumphantly burst forth despite my efforts. “I didn’t regret anything until you said something.” I hug my waist and rest my head against my knees.
Why? Why couldn’t I keep quiet?
His shock is a physical presence in the room, but I can’t muster the courage to look at him again. Not when I should never have let things get that far. Should never have let what he shared a few months ago influence my actions last night. Aris remains a stranger to me.
But he doesn’t feel like one when he touches me. Last night, I melted into him as if my body recognized a piece I’d been missing my whole life.
“From now on, I’ll sleep in another bedroom.” I unfold my body and push to the edge of the bed, more hurt than I have a right to be.
Before I set foot on the ground, I fly backward, landing on Aris’ lap. He is no longer looking at me in that disconnected way. Anger blazes from his mismatched eyes. I stare, mouth agape, as he struggles to calm his breathing.
“You’re my wife. You sleep where I sleep.”
“But, I thought… you shut me out.” The courage to say what I mean deserts me when I realize what’s driving his reaction.
Rejection causes invisible wounds to fester. From the brief glimpse into his upbringing, Aris has suffered many instances of not being good enough to the point that his default is to be on the offensive.
“You thought wrong.” Aris pulls me up by the neck, meeting me halfway with a devouring kiss full of rage.
His anger lends a piquant bite to his taste. I open to him, accepting his fury. Buried beneath is another emotion as overwhelmingly powerful. As Aris nips my lip, I recognize it; desperation.
He contorts our bodies until he lies over me. He breaks off our kiss, but I chase him, silently demanding more. Instead, he presses our foreheads together.
“Aris?” When he doesn’t respond, I recall the term he asked me to use. Although I will probably butcher it, I say, “O sýzygós?”
His body trembles from testing his restraint.
I cup his cheek. “It’s okay, I’m not going anywhere.” As I speak the words, the resolve within them lands surefooted inside me.
“Tell me to stop,” he demands.
I shake my head. “I won’t.”
“Remember to breathe,” he issues the reminder before slamming his mouth on mine.
This kiss is more voracious than the last, taking and feasting on me. He isn’t alone; his desire fuels mine. I shovel my fingers into his hair to hold his face steady so that I can devour him.
He hooks my leg over his arm and leaves off my mouth to trail a path of liquid heat down my neck. When he reaches my shirt, he rips it open, scattering buttons everywhere.
I gasp as he takes my breast into his mouth. Flames lick my body. Hell’s fire never tasted so sweet as Aris’ hunger for me. Soon, my panties join my buttons and his fingers breach my opening.
Aris rises above me, ensnaring me with his blue and green eyes. While he plays between my thighs, he studies my every reaction. The way my voice fails because I can’t get enough air to make a sound, though I would only urge him on if I could.
He stills his hand. “Breathe, agapiméni mou.”
A rush of much-needed air fills my lungs. With it, I moan. “Please, don’t stop moving.” I reach for his dick, slick with precum, and pull him towards me. “I need more. I need your dick.”
He shudders, allowing me a few strokes before he cages my hands above my head. “You have no idea what you’re asking of me, what you’ve put me through.” He plunges inside me.
As wet as I am, he’s still a tight fit as he stretches me wide. His last bit of restraint falls away and he fucks me, hard. I wrap my legs around his waist and pull my arms free to hug his neck, locking us together and closing off his last escape. Not that he seems inclined to withdraw and leave me swimming in need.
