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Spiro was still processing all that Alia had told him as they made their way back to the bedroom. Her story had left him with a disturbing ache in his chest and a newfound respect for his brother-in-law.

He had always liked Julian. Khristos had married him, so Spiro had made the effort to get to know him. Julian was intelligent, capable of an interesting story and very dedicated to his profession.

Waking to this strange arrangement with Alia had aroused his suspicion that Julian was not what he seemed, but now he saw Julian was trying to give Alia a much-needed leg up. He saw, too, why Alia had been persuaded to marry a stranger. It wasn’t about getting her hands on Spiro’s money. It was about her deep-seated fear of being abandoned.

They brushed their teeth and he snapped off the light a few minutes later, sighing as he settled beside her. He wasn’t tired, though. He was thinking about her brief and unassuming pajamas and the fact that she might as well be Julian’s little sister, based on how protective the other man was of her.

Which meant she was off-limits for the thoughts that were weaving into his head.

The blanket shifted and her hand brushed his naked waist, sending spikes of electricity into his groin. He sucked in a breath at how quickly and strongly he responded.

“Sorry.” She jerked back. “I was looking for your arm.”

“It’s under the pillow.” He left it there and rolled to face her. “Is that why you like to touch me while you sleep? You’re afraid of the dark?”

“I don’t mind the dark, especially if I can see the stars. I just…” She sighed. “I know I need to get over this fear, but it’s been hard with Yaya losing her memory. She’s not getting any younger and I know that soon—” Her voice thickened. She cut herself off and rolled onto her back.

“Don’t think about that.” Before he realized what he was doing, he had scooped his free arm across her and dragged her warm, soft body closer to his own.

It felt strange as soon as he’d done it. People didn’t come to him for comfort. He’d never been good at it and wasn’t sure why he’d tried to offer it. Maybe because her hand on his arm had kept him from despair, and he wanted to give her something like it?

He almost let her go when she stiffened in surprise, but just as quickly she gave a little sigh and relaxed, allowing him to fit her more tightly against himself. Maybe he wasn’t so bad at this after all.

“You’re not alone right now.” He pressed his lips to her forehead, reminding himself he was only trying to provide reassurance, but her hair smelled like orange blossoms and the swells of her breasts sat warm and soft against his chest.

He wanted to believe he would have released her a moment later, that he wouldn’t have kissed her if she had softened into sleep or pulled away. But her naked legs brushed his and her hand splayed against his rib cage. Her breath pooled against his throat and her parted lips touched the edge of his jaw.

Her mouth was under his before he’d thought it through.

Damn, she was lovely and delicious. Her lips opened under the pressure of his and he swept his tongue into her mouth for a deeper taste, eliciting a mewling sob that brought him to stiff attention.

He swept his hand from her back to the lush cheek of her ass, squeezing once before he grasped the back of her thigh and brought her leg to his waist, making space so he could roll onto her. If they’d been naked, he would have been inside her with a single thrust, he was that fully, profoundly aroused.

And she was that receptive. Her hands roamed his back and splayed against his shoulders and traced his spine. Her tongue met his as he plundered her mouth and she hooked her foot behind his back, lifting her pelvis into the pressure of his hips, compressing the column of flesh that was on fire for her.

Carnal need had never hit him like this—with the force of a runaway train. With animalistic imperative. Mate. Now.

He felt alive in the most thrillingly basic way, mind drained of all thought except that she was clinging to him as though she wanted to crawl under his skin. Her head went back, offering her neck in surrender. He buried his mouth there and skimmed his hand to drag her strap off her shoulder, exposing a breast that was warm and heavy and topped with a nipple hard as a candy he wanted to let dissolve on his tongue.

She squirmed and he held her still as he sucked. Liking her gasps and moans and the way her knees hugged his rib cage. He could smell her arousal and was intoxicated by it. Ravenous.

He shifted and got his hand between them, fingertips delving under the loose leg of her shorts to discover she wore nothing beneath them except a pelt of fine, springy hair. Her plump lips parted beneath his touch, coating his fingers in nectar he wanted to lick into until she screamed.

His briefs barely contained him. It would take nothing to brush aside the fabric and slide into her, but her hands went into his hair. She was trying to bring him back to kissing her mouth, but her fingers grazed the cut on his scalp. It didn’t hurt, not really, but the zing of potential pain yanked him back to where he was. Whom he was with.

His wife. The one he hadn’t chosen. The one he didn’t want.

Except he did. He wanted her so badly, it actually hurt to move his hand to the mattress and lever himself off her so he was propped on his side next to her.

“Are we doing this?” His heart was crashing in his chest, his ability to think nearly extinguished. He set his hand on her quivering stomach where her top had ridden up. “Should I get a condom?”

“To have sex? I—guess? If you want to?”

He drank in a big breath through flared nostrils, trying to think where he’d left the box. He kept a supply, but never brought women here to his villa. It was always hotels or wherever they happened to reside.

He didn’t like strangers in his private space.

He wanted this one, though. He wanted to stay in this bed with her. Everything in him longed to slide his hand beneath her waistband and continue exploring. Make her arch and cry out and strip her naked to take his fill.