Julia James - Greek Mavericks - Seduced Into The Greek's World

“We don’t have a conventional marriage. As you can see now you have never touched me. Not before this. You kissed me on our wedding day and that was it. And you told me... You told me that it didn’t have to change anything. I think the offer stood for myself, as well. I think you expected I might go out and find a lover. But you are my husband, Leon, and I couldn’t—”

Of course she couldn’t. Rose was too sweet. So young, so innocent. He was older, harder. And he had no idea why he was the way he was. All he knew was that with everything a blank slate inside of him, without the built-in excuses, without the baggage, he was disgusted with himself.

He had been given this gift. This woman. This wife. And he had treated her with nothing but neglect.

“I want to do better,” he said finally.

“What?”

“I want to do better for you. Better for us. We have a chance to change things, to make a new start.” He shook his head then, his words tasting wrong in his mouth. “I suppose I have that chance. You remember everything. You know exactly who I am. You know exactly what I’ve done to you. And it seems the simplest thing in the world to ask for forgiveness when you can’t remember your sins. I don’t deserve it.”

“Leon, I should’ve told you from the beginning about our marriage. But... It didn’t seem...” She was blinking back tears now, and he hated that he was making her cry. He had a feeling he had done so more than once. “I think I didn’t want you to know because I was hoping this would happen. But that was manipulative of me.”

“I’m not angry. Not at you. I married you to get this house, to get your father’s company and to placate him, and what did you get?”

“Well, if we divorced after five years, I got the house.” She swallowed. “But I imagine you would have wanted us to stay married so that everything would stay with you, too. Marriage is different when you aren’t exactly living as a married couple. I think for you that’s never been an issue.”

“It is an issue to me now. And I’m not angry with you. How old am I, Rose?”

“Thirty-three,” she said.

“Ten years older than you.”

“That doesn’t—”

“And answer me this—when you married me what did you expect would happen?”

Color flooded her cheeks and she turned away from him. “Well, frankly, I imagined that something much like tonight might happen on our wedding night.”

“So I did not tell you that I intended to live my life as a single man until after you had already made vows to me.”

“Yes,” she said.

“Then I feel you have only been trying to claim what you rightfully are owed. And I think that we need to try and fix this. Together.”

“What about when you remember? What about when things... What about when they go back to the way they were?”

“I won’t lose these memories just because I gain the old ones. I can’t imagine anything on earth changing what is between us now.” He reached out, brushing his thumb over her cheek, over her impossibly soft skin. “How can I ever go back to living in the same space as you without wanting to touch you all the time? How could I possibly return to other women’s beds when yours is the only one I want to be in?”

And then he leaned in and kissed her, and they did not speak for the rest of the night.

* * *

Leon appreciated the fact that his doctor had ordered him to sit out in the sun a few hours a day so he didn’t end up with vitamin deficiencies, but he would much rather be in the house than sitting out on the terrace.

In the house with Rose, naked in his arms as he brought her pleasure again and again.

He was insatiable for his wife. For this woman he’d never touched before his accident. A woman he’d married and left a virgin.

He frowned. He could not understand why he’d done that. And the questions... It was concerning. Because at this point he could not imagine holding her at a distance. He wanted to hold her right up against him, skin to skin, at all times.

He was obsessed with her.

He looked out at the view of the lush grounds of the estate. He had this home. He had Rose. And yet he was never here. He had never touched her.

Instead he had gone out and slept with other women.

The idea sent a lash of shame streaking through him like the crack of a whip. Hot. Painful. But somewhere beneath the self-loathing was...concern.

Why? Why hadn’t he touched her? Why had he held himself back?

“How are you feeling?”

He turned in his seat and saw Rose standing in the doorway, wearing a flowing dress with a flower pattern, teasing him with just a peek of long slender leg.

It was easy to push his questions and concerns to the back of his mind when he could see her. As soon as he saw her he wanted to push her dress up past her hips and bury his face between her thighs.

It was preferable to thinking.

“Well,” he said. “I can dress myself now anyway.”

A wicked light danced in her blue eyes. “I would rather undress you.”

Heat flared in his gut and he pushed his previous concerns down even further. “I am glad you think that way, agape.”

She stepped out onto the terrace and he began to push himself into a standing position, a dull pain shooting through his midsection as he disturbed his injuries.

“Don’t,” she said, holding her hand out. “Just sit. There’s plenty of time for...touching later.”

He frowned. “I want to touch you now.”

She extended her hand and he gripped her slender fingers in his, a flash of lightning hitting him low and hard. “How’s that?”

“Not enough.” Never enough. How would it ever be enough? He might never have all the answers to who he was. But he had her. She was his beacon. His touchstone.

She smiled and it moved places inside of him. It hurt. As though heat was touching ice for the first time.

“Leon...”

“Why history?” he asked.

“What?” she asked, blinking.

“What made you decide to major in history?” If he couldn’t strip her naked, he would convince her to reveal herself in other ways. She was all he had. She filled his brain, his body, his soul. There was nothing else, and he wasn’t even certain he cared.

Why should he make an effort to know himself, in all his filthy, broken lack of glory, when he could know her?

“Well, I like research,” she said. “And if you research the past you can accomplish a lot of it in...silence. Reading. Exploring the basements and attics of old houses and libraries.”

“You like to be alone?”

She frowned. “I like time to think. And...questioning texts is much...safer than questioning actual people.”

He had a feeling she applied that to more than just history.

“Is that why you never said anything to me?” he asked. “About my behavior?”

She looked away from him, her pale throat contracting as she swallowed hard. “We married for the company and for the house. It never seemed...”

“That is not the only reason,” he said, his voice growing rough. “I know it wasn’t.”

He could not have been blind to his attraction to her. And his attraction wasn’t new. He was confident in that.

“It was as far as I knew,” she said, her tone stiff. “For you anyway.” She softened on that last part, and it made his chest ache.

He did not deserve her. He was certain of few things but that was one of them. “I do not think that’s the case.”

But there was something. Something that had held him back from her. Something that had kept her a virgin, and kept him away as often as possible.

Part of him wanted to know.

Most of him simply wanted things to stay as they were. Because here and now, he had her. He never wanted to let her go.