Chapter 19

The minx.

He was already hard, but the pressure grew more urgent as her soft touches on his scrotum continued.
“You’re on dangerous ground there, pethi mou.”

“Am I?” She was no longer sitting on him, but her knees were still on either side of his.

He took that as an invitation and flipped onto his back, his breath expelling in a hard gust at the sight of
her naked body above him. “You are so damn beautiful.”

“You’re prejudiced.”

“You think so, glyka mou? I think you could have made millions as a model.”

She smiled and shook her head. “Did you just call me sweet?”

“My sweet. You’re learning Greek.”

“Just that one.”

Good. He wasn’t sure he wanted her to know he often called her his woman. It might sound like he
meant something more than he did, but even if their sex wasn’t based in some foolish romantic
commitment, he was a possessive guy. It was just the way he was made and sometimes, the words
yineka mou slipped out. She was his, for now. Maybe he should be more circumspect. Now that she
was learning what his Greek endearments meant.

His aching hard-on felt ready to explode, distracting him. He gave her his best cajoling look. “Ride me?”

Her stunning blue gaze went dark with passion as he’d known it would. “Do we have time?”



“Always.” They were not on a tight schedule, even if she wanted to visit more museums in one day than
he usually saw in a year.

She didn’t require any more convincing, but moved into position above his bobbing erection. “You look
ready to burst.”

“I feel it,” he choked out gutturally from between clenched teeth as her slick feminine flesh brushed
against him.

She went to reach for a condom and he stayed her with a hand between her perfectly shaped breasts.
“Neither of us has been with anyone else in almost two years. I’ve had two clean bills of health over
that time.”

He knew she’d tested every six months for a couple of years after finding out Art was such a damn
tomcat and wasn’t surprised when she said, “Me, too.”

“Then, let’s go bare.” She used the patch for birth control, so they didn’t need to worry about making a
baby neither of them were ready for.

“Yes,” she breathed out, lowering her body so his hard length slid inside her moist channel.

He said that word that she always chided him for and had to fight the urge to surge upward with every
ounce of selfcontrol he had earned in his thirty-five years of life. She rewarded his restraint by dropping
down and engulfing his entire length in her humid heat. Damn, massaging him had excited her.

She was slick with arousal and her inner muscles clenched at him in undeniable need. They moved
together like animals mating and yet, not. Their supreme awareness of each other could be no less
than human. Their gazes locked and never broke once during the wild ride.



The sensation of their bare skin moving together threw him into a convulsive climax, but he didn’t have
to worry. She was right there with him, her head thrown back, her pleasure falling from her lips in a
keening cry that tingled at the base of his spine.

This moment in time was perfection.

Zephyr surprised himself by enjoying their gluttonous day of museum-viewing. While he liked
museums, he wouldn’t normally have planned an entire day around visiting as many as he could get to.
However, Piper’s enthusiasm and fascination was catching. That was the only excuse he could make
for how interested he was, even in exhibits that he had seen before as a child on group trips with the
other children from the home.

He’d refused to use the term orphan because he hadn’t been one. He’d had both a mother and a
father, even if neither had been willing to make him an important part of their life.

“This just goes to show that we repeat ourselves creatively. This would be considered ‘modern art’ by
current art critics. If it hadn’t been dated as being more than four thousand years old.”

They were standing in front of an early Cycladic statue that did indeed look like something he might see
in a gallery dedicated to modern artists. “It seems odd the statues would be so lacking in intricate detail
when the pottery has such complicated patterns on it.”

“I’m sure someone hundreds of years from now will find it strange that our houses are built like cookie-
cutter images of one another, but we are so particular about what goes inside them.”

He turned to her, laying a hand on her waist and not questioning the urge to do so. “You think so?”

“That, or they’ll postulate we only ate on plastic because plastic dishes are the only ones that survive
that long.” Her azure eyes glittered with humor.




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