“You like this, agápi mou, yes?” he growled low, his hands gripping my hips to guide me, rocking slowly at first, then faster.
“Oh, Aris, yeah!”
His mouth latched back onto my breast, sucking hard on my swollen nipple while I ground down on him. He thrust up to meet me, deep and unyielding, until I shattered.
He followed right after, his grip almost bruising as he held me against him, groaning softly into my neck. His hands roamed my belly possessively, while our children slept upstairs, completely unaware.
Finally, I lifted my head from his shoulder. “You planned that.”
“I planned to work.” He had the audacity to smirk. “You came in here and climbed on my lap, yes?”
“We could have been caught, Aris. What then?” I said, climbing off him on shaky legs.
“Then your daughter, she would know her mother is capable of having a relationship, yes. Maybe she would even be happy for you.” He adjusted his shorts. “But we’ll never know because you’re too afraid to find out.”
“It’s not about being afraid,” I said quietly, even though we both knew it was a lie. “It’s about timing. About doing this right.”
“The timing, yes.” He said the word like it disgusted him. “You have been using this excuse for months.” He pulled his laptop back onto his thighs. “Go back to bed, Deanna.”
24
When I entered the kitchen the next morning, the chef was prepping ingredients at the far counter while Dede stood at the stove making eggs.
After nearly being discovered by the kids last night, I’d chosen to sleep in the guest bedroom, which was growing more cramped with each passing day as we filled it with purchases for the twins.
I’d needed the distance to think without her warmth beside me clouding my judgment.
Part of me wished we had been caught. Maybe then Dede would have been forced to finally acknowledge what we were to each other. Instead, she’d gotten lucky, and I’d spent the night alone.
Tia glanced up from her plate of fruit and yogurt and smiled, appearing entirely unperturbed by my presence. “Morning, Mr. Christakis.” She observed my rolled-up sleeves. “Wow, you have tattoos.”
Few people knew about the ink that covered my arms, chest, back, and leg. Chrysanthos did, obviously.
My son had seen me in every state of undress over the years, courtesy of his refusal to acknowledge closed doors meant privacy. It was no wonder he’d followed suit and gotten himself covered in them.
“Good morning, Tia,” I replied warmly.
Dede approached Tia with a plate. “I made you eggs, sweetheart. You need more protein than just yogurt.”
“I’m good with this, thanks.”
“But I prepared them the way you—”
“How many do you have?” Tia asked me, cutting off whatever Dede was about to say. She gestured at my forearms.
I felt a flash of sympathy for Dede. The hurt behind her too-bright smile was evident.
“More than Chrysanthos, yes,” I said. “Though he is working on catching up.”
Dede was afraid of damaging her relationship with Tia by revealing us but couldn’t see the damage already being done. The pregnancy had created a chasm between them, and my presence or absence wouldn’t change that.
Still, Tia’s behavior bordered on disrespectful, whatever her feelings about her mother’s choices. There were better ways to express displeasure than these petulant dismissals. Though I suspected Dede’s hovering over the years had earned some of it.
I took a seat at the island, and the chef poured me a coffee.
“Thanks for being there with Mom until Chrys and I could get here. I appreciate you coming after Yiayia called.”
I raised an eyebrow at Dede. So that was the fabrication she’d offered her daughter? That I’d arrived in Montrose yesterday, solely at my mother’s request?
