Page 67 of Slightly Married
Freeman leaned toward Kayla after I took my seat. “Your husband spoke highly of your eye for design,” he said to her. “He mentioned you might consult on color selections for the American market for the Iris line.”
“He did?” Kayla replied
I hadn’t actually discussed this with her yet, but her understanding of esthetic appeal and consumer psychologymade her input invaluable. Her contribution tonight only confirmed what I’d already recognized. Her intuitive grasp of what appealed to people complemented my technical expertise perfectly.
Throughout dinner, I found myself increasingly drawn to the way she articulated her thoughts with clarity, and how she’d won over the Freemans by simply being herself. Every gesture, every thoughtful response, only intensified my need to have her to myself.
Later that evening, as our driver navigated through Athens’ evening traffic, I pulled Kayla onto my lap, unable to resist the desire building all evening. My hands gripped her hips possessively as my arousal pressed against her.
“You were extraordinary tonight,” I said, while my lips painted her neck with kisses. “They increased their investment by thirty percent over initial projections.”
“I barely said anything.”
“You didn’t need to,” I replied, nipping at her earlobe, gratified by her deep inhale. “You connected with them as people, not just investors. Freeman’s wife has been resistant to their Greek ventures until tonight. Now she’s looking forward to spending more time here.”
My hand slid up her thigh, pushing the fabric of her dress up to caress her bare skin. The silk of her skin beneath my fingers made me harder.
“I just talked about things I understand. Shopping, design, how the car made me feel,” she said, her voice hitching as my fingers traced the edge of her lace thong.
“Exactly,” I said, appreciating once again how her spontaneous approach achieved what my planned strategies sometimes couldn’t. “You showed them why people will want our cars beyond the technical specifications.” I slipped my fingers beneath the delicate lace, finding her already wet.
Her head fell forward against my shoulder. The sound of her pleasure intensified my own arousal, the knowledge that I could affect her this way a heady power I never tired of.
“Well,” she breathed against my neck, “I enjoy surprising you, Mr. Christakis.”
A low chuckle escaped me as my fingers continued their exploration. “That you do, Mrs. Christakis. That you do.”
She lifted her head, capturing my lips in a heated kiss. I deepened it immediately, the taste of her an addiction I had no intention of breaking.
My fingers circled and stroked, eliciting low moans I swallowed with our kiss. I gripped her hip tightly with my other hand, holding her securely against me as I continued to pleasure her.
When she finally broke, trembling against me, a profound satisfaction washed over me. As the last tremors of her orgasm faded and she slumped against me, I held her close, savoring the warmth of her body against mine.
“We’re home, sir,” our driver announced through the intercom.
Kayla straightened, adjusting her dress with a languid smile that promised more to come. I helped her out of the car, keeping her close against my side as we made our way through the main entrance.
Upon reaching the grand staircase to our wing of the estate, Kayla’s eyes sparkled with mischief and her lips curved into the smile that always made my blood run hot.
“So,” she said, leaning against me as we turned down the hallway, “Santo clearly gets his taste in women from his father.”
I tightened my arm around her waist, pulling her even closer as we approached our bedroom door. “Aris’ personal life doesn’t interest me right now.”
“Come on,” she persisted, even as her breath caught when my fingers traced the low back of her dress. “You have to admit it’s fascinating. The serious, buttoned-up Aristides with a Black woman—”
“Michaila,” I murmured against her neck as I pushed open our bedroom door. “I have far more pressing matters to attend to.”
Her dress loosened under my hands as I guided her inside our room, revealing the lace bra I’d been imagining removing all evening. “Like what?” she challenged as I slid the dress from her shoulders.
“Like being inside my wife within the next minute.”
She laughed, the sound transitioning to a gasp as my hand slipped between her thighs. “Fine, but we’re discussing this tomorrow. I have theories about the Christakis men and their preferences.”
“Tomorrow,” I agreed, lifting her onto our bed. “Tonight you get on all fours.”
Kayla moved toward our bed and climbed onto it, positioning herself on her hands and knees. I took a moment to admire the curve of her back, the flare of her hips, and the long lines of her legs. She looked back at me, her eyes dark with desire and anticipation.
I approached the bed, shedding my clothes with every step. By the time my knees sank into the mattress behind her, I was nude.
