Devon Hartford - Reckless

“No.”

“Then we don’t have to worry about her, do we? It’s just the two of us.”

Like I suspected, Hunter was a player or a liar, which basically amounted to the same thing. “Hunter, I’d love to chat, but I have homework to do.” I motioned toward my books.

“I can come back later.”

“Please, no,” I pleaded.

He chuckled and waved as he walked out. “Until next time, beautiful.”

I didn’t wave back. The last thing I needed in my life was more Hunter, no matter how hot he was.

Where was Christos when I needed him?

Sigh.

If Hunter were to take one look at my hot, tattooed boyfriend and see how totally in love we were with each other, I believed Hunter would finally give up on me and go away.

I truly knew my love for Christos was that strong.

But I needed Christos in my arms for our enchantment to work and shoo Hunter off.

At the rate things had been going, that might not happen for days or even weeks.

Sigh.

SAMANTHA

The drive north from campus took awhile in traffic. I knew the Pacific Ocean was somewhere to my left, but it was blacked out by the glare of oncoming headlights.

My relationship with Christos was starting to feel as inconsistent as my view of the ocean. We never had enough time for each other, just brief moments that lacked in both quantity and quality.

Between my classes, my homework, my museum job, my never-ending job search, and Christos’ crazy round-the-clock work schedule, I feared we were slipping apart.

I started weeping at the wheel of my VW.

Yes, I had met the perfect man and we had fallen in love, all in the span of a few short months. But in the span of a few short weeks, I felt like our relationship was crumbling to dust. I knew our love was strong, but if we never saw each other, how could it grow? Love wasn’t a static thing. It required effort, commitment, and constant attention. It needed tending and care for it to grow, otherwise it was bound to wither and die.

I knew, because I felt Christos slowly slipping away from me.

Worse, despite our increasingly tenuous connection, my feelings for Christos had grown immensely, and I feared what would happen to me if our connection were to break completely.

I wasn’t sure I could handle it.

Whatever heartache and betrayal I’d gone through with Damian would be nothing compared to what I’d go through if I lost Christos.

I wiped my eyes on the back of my hand, probably smearing my eyeliner. I didn’t care. I drove to my apartment, looking forward to another evening alone.

Where Is Your Heart by Kelly Clarkson was the next tune to play on my car’s MP3 player. Half way through the song, I punched the OFF button.

Stupid Kelly Clarkson. Why did you have to be so right all the time?

I hated her.

I tried to think constructively. What could I do to help my relationship with Christos? No matter where my mind went, I always smacked up against the same wall: we needed more time together.

But we didn’t have more time in the day. Maybe I needed to sleep less?

I parked my VW at home and trudged upstairs to my apartment. I dropped my book bag on my coffee table and sank into my couch.

I texted Christos, expecting no reply.

I miss you, Christos. My heart is aching for you. We never see each other. I need you. I love you. When can I see you again? <3 <3 <3 <3 <3

Yes, I used five hearts, which was two more than I’d decided was officially “too” needy. Screw it. I didn’t care. I set my phone down and waited. I stared at it, willing it to beep. What was that old saying? A watched phone never bleeps?

I opened my book bag and dug out my books and laptop. It was time to pick my poison.

History, Sociology, or job search.

Where was my ice cream?

I jumped when my phone bleeped.

A text from Christos, Want dinner? Got some cooking right now. And a surprise…

I was right. The two extra text-hearts I’d used had done the trick. I texted him right away. I LOVE surprises! Be right over! <3 <3 <3 :-D

I only used three hearts this time. I didn’t want to ruin my good luck.

I washed my face in my bathroom and hurried to my car, wondering what the surprise might be. I never knew with Christos. It didn’t matter. Having dinner with him was more than enough.

A few minutes later, I pulled into his driveway and parked. Christos walked outside before I climbed out of my car. He opened and held my door for me.

“Your feast awaits, madam,” he said, bowing and offering his hand.

I took it and he helped me out of my car. “Thank you, kind sir,” I said, sounding ten times more buoyant and happy than I would’ve thought myself capable twenty minutes prior. I tiptoed up and kissed him.

Without warning, our simple kissed turned passionate and our tongues danced together. I’d forgotten how much I missed his touch. How many days had it been? I didn’t know for sure, but it seemed an eternity. I wrapped my arms around his neck and fell into the kiss.

“Samantha,” he murmured. “I missed you so much, agápi mou.”

Our lips continued to press and throb against each other as I mumbled, “I missed you too, my love.”

He reached down and hooked his arm under my knees and carried me toward the front walkway.

I continued kissing him as he carried me into the house. Would I ever get tired of being carried over thresholds?

Probably not.

Christos kicked the door closed with his boot and immediately crushed his mouth into mine once again.

My heart thumped in my chest as he held me in his tattooed arms. He was ravenous, and his need awoke mine. My body was on fire. All I could think about was getting my clothes off…except. I pulled away from his luscious mouth and muttered, “Is Spiridon home?”

“My grandfather’s out back reading on the deck. He won’t notice.”

I suddenly felt like a fumbling teenager and couldn’t decide if the tension of getting caught by his grandfather was thrilling or a turn-off.

Christos gazed at me with his blazing blue eyes.

I forgot about everything else.

My eyelids fluttered and I lunged for Christos’ mouth. I needed more of him. Memories of having sex with Christos flowed through me, spinning my body in a maelstrom of remembered sensation. Passionate, overwhelming ecstasy.

I was ready to fall over and go at it right there in the entryway. Or have Christos smash me up against a wall while I straddled him and he entered me.

The next thing I knew, my mind-reading man repositioned me so I was straddling his waist. His powerful hands gripped my ass firmly. I hooked my arms around his neck and pulled myself close.

“I need you. Right now,” I murmured in his ear.

Christos carried me upstairs. I noticed art hanging along the walls in the upstairs hallway. Spiridon’s home was truly an artist’s paradise. I loved this place.

But I was even more in love with Christos.

My awareness of anything beyond him faded from my mind as we turned through a doorway. He kicked the door closed behind us, and he lowered me onto a large bed.

SAMANTHA

The clicking of my zipper being pulled down swept me away.

To my pleasant surprise, having Christos pull my pants off without asking was perfectly acceptable. He was welcome to do whatever he wanted to me. The dirtier, the harder, the wetter the better.

I was smiling from ear to ear as his hands slid up my naked thighs. My pants, shoes, and socks were piled on the floor a second later. I was down to my panties, my shirt, and my sweater.

Nope, now my panties were off.

Oh, my.

Christos gently parted my legs, revealing my hot, wet center.

“You have no idea how often I’ve thought about this moment in the last several days,” Christos moaned. “I’ve been missing you like crazy.”

“Me too,” I whimpered.

 He stood up and ripped his shirt off. He was totally, certifiably sexy. His muscles were worthy of a magazine cover. His tattoos made me quiver with anticipation. He had a face that captained a thousand ships. I could picture him standing at the front of an ancient warship, wearing Roman armor, one sandaled foot planted commandingly on the railing as he pointed his sword forward and led his men to victory. Christos was some kind of mythically sexy hero of legend, and he was all mine.

He stared down at me. “You have the most beautiful pussy I’ve ever seen, agápi mou.”

“Christos!” I blurted, throwing my forearm over my eyes. He’d torn me right out of my romance novel book-cover fantasy moment by using that word. I’d never had anyone call my lady bits that before, and I wasn’t sure what to make of it. Christos was always throwing me off balance.

“What?” he smiled his cocky grin. “Do you want me to tell you your pussy is average looking? Or maybe a bit hideous?”

“Christos!!” He was making this worse.

He chuckled. “Then tell me how I’m supposed to describe it.”

“I don’t know!” I whined. “Are you even supposed to actually talk about it at all?” I wasn’t sure of the answer to that myself.

“Fuck the rules. I make my own. Your pussy is smokin’ hot. It tastes like cinnamon or I don’t know what, but I can’t get enough of it. It’s like dessert, but it never spoils my dinner.” He winked.