Page 54 of Modern Romance September 2025 1-4
Yes. Thisiswhat I can use: the power of my sexuality. He wants me, he’s made no secret of that, and I can use it against him if I wish. But do I? Or will that be playing with him, the way he’s playing with me? Am I that much of a hypocrite?
I don’t like games, and I don’t like lies, but I very much like how my hand on him is testing him. However, I can feel the pressure between my thighs, the needy ache—a warning that playing with this kind of fire could end up burning me. And that’s something that frightens me. I could lose control of myself even as I test him…
I take back my hand, unconsciously curling my fingers against the heat lingering in my palm. ‘Very well,’ I say coolly, looking away. ‘If that’s what you want.’
I only have time for a quick glimpse of the lights of the road, before his fingers press into my skin and he takes my chin in one powerful hand, turning my face back to his. There’s only time for one quick breath before his mouth covers mine.
I have never enjoyed kisses. They’re wet and the sensation always makes me uncomfortable. Even worse, I’m not expecting this one. But something happens to me the moment Ulysses sets his lips against mine. His mouth is warm and firm, and somehow I know that he’s good at this. That he knows what he’s doing and that he’ll make me like it whether I want to or not.
And I feel something wake up inside me, something hungry and hot that wants more. That wants his taste, his touch and his heat that’s somehow a match for the heat inside me. Heat I never knew was there.
He holds me firmly so I can’t pull away, but… I don’t want to pull away. It’s sensual, this kiss. He explores my mouth first, as if he’s taking just a small taste, then his tongue coaxes and it’s not wet and uncomfortable, but hot. And I open my mouth so he can explore me deeper. His flavour is heady and rich, like chocolate and fine brandy, and it’s so addictive and delicious that I moan.
He grips my jaw in his big, warm hand, tilting back my head to kiss me deeper, and I let him. My eyes are closed, I can see fireworks behind them and my skin is so tight and hot, I want to tear it off.
Automatically, I reach for him, but as soon as I do he lets me go and pulls back, leaving me aching, hot and bereft.
There is fire in his eyes. ‘Be under no illusions,’ he says, his deep voice all velvety and rough. ‘It’snotwhat I want. But you owe me six months, ice queen. We have plenty of time.’
CHAPTER SEVEN
Ulysses
I’m not aman who regrets his decisions or second-guesses them, but I know the moment I look into Katla’s darkening eyes that I should not have kissed her. That it was a mistake, and mainly because I hadn’t planned to do so.
She put her hand on my thigh and I felt the heat of it like an arrow of pure desire going straight to my cock. I didn’t expect her to touch me, not so soon after the encounter with her ex-husband, and I didn’t expect the momentary flicker of disappointment in her eyes when I told her no.
I didn’t expect my own reaction either, which had risen so fast and so intensely that I didn’t stop to question whether kissing her was right. I only wanted her to know that I hadn’t changed my mind about my intentions towards her. That I still wanted her in my bed.
And also, perhaps, because I wanted to taste her.
It was a mistake, though, because it took much more willpower to draw back from her than it should have, especially when she made a soft moan in the back of her throat. Especially when I caught the flavour of her response, sweet as honey on my tongue. She was a little hesitant, a little uncertain at first, but then she opened her mouth, letting me in, kissing me back and…fuck.
I’ve had a lot of women, indulging myself shamelessly over the years, because I’m not a man afraid of his appetites. So one kiss shouldn’t get me hard, yet it did. It’s simply the intensity of our physical chemistry, of course, nothing more, but I didn’t think it would be so strong or require so much willpower to let her go.
If she was any other woman, I wouldn’t. I’d haul her into my lap, hike up her skirt be inside her in seconds flat, my driver be damned. But I couldn’t ignore that she’d just been threatened by her bastard ex-husband, and Olympia would definitely find it reprehensible if I had sex with Katla not five minutes later.
I always keep in mind what Olympia would think, because her opinion matters. She’s my conscience and without her…
Well. I know my own nature: I’m not a good man. However, a good man wouldn’t have been able to rescue Olympia from the people who hurt her, let alone the boy I’d been before our mother died. That boy, that soft-hearted rule-follower, didn’t have the will or determination required to extract my sister from her abusive situation, so I put that boy down and became someone else. I will carry to my grave the knowledge that I wasn’t able to protect her when it counted, but I’ll protect her now and do what I can to mitigate the damage.
Katla’s pupils have dilated. Her eyes are so dark, and her mouth is full and red. Her cheekbones are stained with colour and so is the pale column of her neck. My ice queen is melting. The fire at the heart of her is burning bright, and it wouldn’t take much to make her molten, to make her erupt.
She wants me—of course she does—but, as I told her, we have time.
‘My hour,’ I tell her as she blinks, half-dazed by the kiss, which is satisfying in the extreme. ‘I will have it on the plane. I have things to organise now.’ She draws back slightly and I hear her ragged intake of breath. Then she looks away.
I’ve frustrated her, that’s obvious, and while part of me is also frustrated another part suggests that a little frustration can make for a great aphrodisiac. It won’t hurt to make her wait and it won’t hurt me either.
I’m often impatient, and waiting for what I want is never my favourite thing, but I can afford to do it now. It will make everything sweeter in the end. So, I don’t argue, returning to my phone to handle the necessary arrangements that bringing Katla with me involve. I also text Olympia, begging forgiveness for my absence on Christmas Eve, letting her know I’ll be arriving on Christmas Day and that I will be bringing ‘a friend’.
I never bring women home with me to Athens. Olympia doesn’t need me flaunting my affairs in front of her, so she’ll be surprised to see Katla. But she’ll understand when I tell her the reason for Katla’s presence and, in fact, she’d no doubt agree that Katla needs to be protected.
However, while I don’t much care for Christmas myself, itisimportant to Olympia. When in foster care, she never had Christmases or birthdays; never had any celebrations at all. So when I finally managed to get her back I made sure that every holiday or birthday was a big deal, and that we celebrated any achievement, big or small.
It’s now the middle of the night in Athens, so Olympia doesn’t respond, but she’ll see my text when she wakes and by then I won’t be far away. After I finish my texts, I run through the usual long list of business tasks to complete before leaving LA and busy myself with completing several of them.
Katla doesn’t speak the whole way to the airport, and I decide not to break the silence either. There is a certain challenge inherent in letting her control that. It makes me want to see how far I can push her before she breaks.
