Crowned For The Drakon Legacy

“Somehow I doubt that the vows of marriage would mean anything to a serial womanizer like you.”

His chin drew back. “Who is drawing conclusions now?”

His eyes were hard, flat, his fingers tightening over her arms. He tensed, and then slowly the breath he’d been holding pushed out. She’d hurt him?

It was the most nonsensical thought on the most bizarre night of her life.

But then, the man she’d thought him to be would have never offered help tonight. He wouldn’t have even looked at her twice, especially since it was obvious that he’d made up his mind that she had driven Brian away.

But Nikandros had never pretended a friendship or even an acquaintance. Among Brian’s friends, he’d always maintained a polite, even wary, distance from her. As if she’d contaminate his pedigree if he got too close.

“Then why were you there? You sold the women’s team, I know. They said you were leaving Florida. Maybe even the States. You dumped your latest girlfriend.” She rattled off everything she had gathered about him from social media, a habit she hadn’t quite kicked from when he’d first appeared on the scene.

“You had to know... Don’t lie to me, Nikandros. God, please, no more lies.”

Mia closed her eyes. It made her face the one thing she’d been trying to deny—that something inside her had sparked into life tonight, inside the car. Because of the Daredevil Prince.

The sense of him around her amplified a thousand times. The scent of him—dark and delicious and so fundamentally different from her own, clung to her nostrils.

So when he spoke, when his breath feathered over her skin, when his hands descended on her shoulders and pulled her into his body, when the strength and heat of him teased her into a desperate, deep longing, she drowned in the sensations.

She felt his powerful body shudder around her, felt his sharp inhale as he buried his nose in her hair, felt the raw, shameful urge to press her body into his, vibrating through her like a quake.

“I came because I needed to say goodbye.”

A brittle laugh escaped her. “I don’t believe you. You’ve never even considered me a friend. You couldn’t stomach the idea of Brian marrying me. You—”

He pushed her away from him with a contained sort of violence that was far more terrifying than the way Brian used to lash out at her. Roughly, he pushed his hair back, his mouth curled into that familiar curve. “I couldn’t stomach the idea of him with you because... I wanted you for myself.

“From that first moment when you came onto that field like a streak of lightning all those years ago, your joy on the field, your love of the game... I wanted all of that for myself.”

Falling back a step, Mia stared. “What?”

The debacle of her marriage, the horrible truth of Brian’s affairs, diluted as he spoke with a glittering challenge. “When he married you, I thought it would be done. That this infatuation with you...would die. All these years, I hated you for freezing him out, told myself I was lucky.

“Nothing helped.

“I came tonight because...even now, even after he’s gone, I can’t seem to stop.

“Stop thinking about you. Stop wanting you.” Gripping her arms, he pulled her toward him until their faces were mere inches from each other. The gleam of his blue eyes—Mia had never seen anything so beautiful. “I came because I needed to say goodbye to a decade-old obsession. To this madness.

“Is that honest enough for you, Mia?”

CHAPTER TWO

DROPLETS OF WATER dripped from the ends of her still-wet hair, dampening the thin cotton of the oversize T-shirt that fell to her thighs. Shivering, Mia twisted the damp ends with her palm and squeezed the water onto the towel. She rubbed her hair one more time and threw the towel in the hamper.

Drying her hair seemed to need more energy than she had. Which was funny because she had just swum for an hour, running away as if from the very devil.

I wanted you for myself...

For hours on end, she found herself going back over every interaction they had had over the years, and like he said, God, they’d known each other for a decade. So many memories to sift through, so many interactions that she now viewed afresh.

How she wished she could cling to disbelief, to the outrageous hope that he had said that because he’d felt sorry for her. But the fire in his eyes—as if she were the next challenge he was contemplating.

She had no idea how she’d turned away from him and returned to the car, or what she’d even said when he’d brought her here. When he’d pointed it out, she’d fled into a bedroom and then, like clockwork, to the pool when it had struck midnight.

The corridor stretched now into the endless marble-floored open lounge with incredible views of Biscayne Bay’s spectacular skyline on one side and Miami Beach on the other side. Tall palm trees and beach views told Mia she was in Miami and yet a world apart.

She wandered the penthouse, far too wired after the disastrous day she’d had.

There was a custom wine cellar, outdoor terrace, an indoor pool and an outdoor infinity pool, and four hot tubs with a bath deck overlooking the spectacular Brickell skyline.

Her feet sank deep into thick dark carpet as she walked into the media room. Colorful images moved soundlessly on the huge screen, and cast flashes of lightning into the vast, dome-like theater.

It was a recording of one of her own games—the championship game from three years ago when her team had won the World Cup.

A deep, shuddering ache went through her.

Heart steadily climbing, she found Nikandros seated on a step in the aisle. Arms leaning on his knees, his T-shirt highlighted the fluid line of his spine. Jet-black hair glinted with wetness every time the pictures moved on the giant screen. A half-empty, or rather a half-finished, bottle stood precariously on the carpet next to him, the liquid gleaming gold in it.

As if on cue came her powerful kick from the left field and the ball zoomed toward the net and past the flailing hands of the goalkeeper. The sound was on Mute, yet the applause roared in Mia’s ears as if she were standing there on the field, the Spanish sun kissing her face.

The camera zoomed on her, sweaty and delirious with joy, her grin splitting her mouth into a wide curve.

A spark of joy lit up within Mia now, a quiet jolt as if she were being kicked back into life. On the screen, she did the victory lap around the perimeter of the ground and then that stupidly ridiculous dance, shaking her bum...

And the screen stilled on that image.

Nikandros was watching the game with an intensity that spoke of madness, obsession. It didn’t matter that the Prince was known to be a hard-core fan of the sport, that it was the game that could have arrested his attention.

But no, he was watching her.

She walked down the few steps, heart pounding in her chest. “Turn off the game.”

His body bent at an angle, he looked up. Long lashes cast crescent shadows on his cheekbones. But even those envy-inducing lashes couldn’t hide the thorough way he stared at her, all the way from her wet hair to her bare feet. That same devilish half-amusement lingered around his mouth. “Don’t tell me it’s another eccentricity of yours, not watching yourself play?”

“Another one?”

“The midnight swim?” he added, gaze focused on the wet ends of her hair. “The isolation before a big game?”

Mia shrugged, the knowledge of how keenly he was aware of her every eccentricity touching a fragile, buried part of her. His interest in her soccer career, in her, was extremely addictive. And was going straight to her head and other parts. “Only in the last few months have I been able to accept that I’ll never play again.” She looked up at the screen, an ache that never went away settling deep into her. “That part of my life is over.”

Up the steps and into the corridor she went, something uncoiling within her.

Something had changed tonight, even in the past few minutes maybe—a line had been crossed, a line between existing and living. The numbness that had descended on her seemed to crack. A steely grip on her arm halted her.

“I did not realize—” a restless kind of energy seemed to radiate from him and it touched Mia like a spark to dry tinder “—what you have gone through this past year.”

Her back to him, she pressed her forehead against the wall, unable to catch her breath. Every inch of her trembled from the small contact, every muscle locked painfully against the impulse that was coursing through her. “I hate it when you put it like that,” she said into the wall. “Like I was a victim. Of fate first, and then Brian. I find this...that feeling unbearable. As if nothing was in my control.

“For a year, I wallowed in that self-pity. With Brian’s affairs coming out—” a bitter laugh escaped her “—strangely, I seem to have found myself again. I refuse to be still anymore, refuse to be a victim.”

The grip released on her arm. Now his fingers teased her skin with soft strokes. “You astound me, Mia.” His words were deep and low, with a longing that resonated with her own.

But he still didn’t make a move on her.

Mia was terrified that he would and desolate that he wouldn’t.

“I’m grateful that you were there today, Nikandros,” she said, uncaring at this point that her voice betrayed her. “I didn’t realize until now how much I needed a...familiar face.”

Barely had her breath settled when she felt his hands slide to her shoulders. Her front was pressed against the wall, and at her back, he was a wall of warmth and want. With gentleness that undid her, he pushed her hair to the front and kneaded the hard knots on her shoulders.

His thumbs traced the sensitive skin at her nape. Breathing became a shallow exercise, a cavern of longing opening up within her. And then, just like that, he released her. “I will say good-night...and good-bye then.”

She turned around fast.

Dark stubble gave him a grungy, roguish look. His swarthy skin, as always, contrasted with the glittering blue of his eyes, making the man knee-meltingly gorgeous. Blue shadows cradled his eyes. He looked different somehow.

Charm and looks had been a common enough combination in some of the male athletes Mia had known in her career. But all of it was blunted in Nikandros’s case. As if they were nothing but surface traits.

It was the vitality that clung to his very pores, the sheer virility of a man who pitted himself against the extremes of nature and won, that made every cell in her ping with awareness.

The word good-bye sat like a boulder on her chest. She wasn’t prepared to say it. Not yet. “Where are you going?” she finally asked, carefully keeping her eyes away from the languid line of his mouth.

A self-deprecating smile carved a dimple in one cheek but left his eyes still far too intent on her. “To Drakon.”

That Nikandros had turned his back on his royal family years ago—it was a little gold nugget the media recycled every few months. With his daredevil stunts and extreme sport enthusiast career, Nikandros regularly courted the media, and like faithful little dogs, they went digging every single time. No one, however, knew the cause of the falling-out.

“You’re returning to your country?”

“For a visit, at least. My father’s dementia has become public knowledge. The Crown Prince has summoned me. My sister and my mother, even though she divorced my father a while ago, think my brother needs me. Desperately, according to them. Although I can’t imagine Andreas would know desperation if it smacked him in the face.”

“How long have you been away?”

“A decade, maybe.” The casual indifference couldn’t belie the torment in his eyes. “This is the first time my brother has sought me out.”

Clearly, he hadn’t been expecting that. “I’m sorry, Nikandros,” she finally said, sensing the ache in him.

He bent so suddenly that her breath whooshed out. One hard muscled thigh grazed the side of her legs, leaving her quaking. “Pity is not something I could tolerate.”

“Did Brian’s death make you feel sorry for me?” she countered. “Make you change your judgment of me?”

“No,” he said without missing a beat.

“Honesty, honesty, my hide for honesty,” she quipped in a singsong voice, giving in to the abrupt, insane urge to laugh.

Arms locking on either side of her head, he smiled. It touched his eyes then, which were like the sky on a summer afternoon. Time seemed to fly away, seconds turning to minutes and she felt the most insane urge to stop it. To grab it with both hands and hold on to this moment. “When do you leave?”

“Tomorrow morning.”

That sinking feeling in her stomach returned. “I hope whatever it is that caused distance between your father and you...you’re able to sort it out.”

He plucked her hand from her side where she had fisted it tight. Tingles spread up her arm as he traced the half-moons left in her palm by her nails. “You and I both know that that’s not possible. That nothing can make the distances carved over years lesser.

“I wish I could tell Andreas that I don’t give a damn about our father or him or Drakon—” tension emanated from every inch of him “—but I find I can’t.”

Just when she thought she knew him, he said something like that. There was grief in his eyes, even pain. She didn’t want to learn the cause of that grief; she couldn’t ask why he’d walked away from his destiny when it was clear his family meant something to him.

“Apparently, I’m a pushover.” An edgy grin, then laced with self-mockery.

“Or you have a serious case of hero complex,” she said, wanting to make him truly smile. Even with his contempt for her, he’d stayed at the press conference, hadn’t he? Thrill chaser or not, apparently Nikandros had a sense of responsibility.

“Families are never without complications,” she offered. “But if there’s a chance to say goodbye to him, you should take it.”

“Are you estranged from your family too?”

She shrugged, not quite meeting his eyes. There was no point in dwelling on each other’s past when, come tomorrow, they would never see each other again.

The inescapable fact was that tonight he seemed to need her just as much she did him—that bolstered her courage.

Soft strokes on her palms, to her wrists and above, all the way to the sensitive skin of her elbow. And back down. Every nerve tautened like the strings of an instrument.

Mesmerized, Mia couldn’t lift her gaze from the sight of his long fingers on her skin. Those long fingers everywhere on her bare skin, stroking and caressing—she wanted to burrow into his warmth. “I don’t want to say good-night yet.”

He tensed. “If it’s a shoulder you want to cry on, keep looking.” A thread of anger touched his tone. “There’s a line between challenging oneself and tormenting oneself and I’ve already crossed it.”

Words came and fell away from her lips, desperate and hard. For the life of her, she couldn’t put her want into words. How had he so cavalierly told her that she’d been an obsession he’d carried around for so many years? How hadn’t he felt vulnerable?

Or was it strength to go after what one wanted?

Bracing herself on his shoulders, she pulled herself up and pressed her mouth to the corner of his. Stubble scraped her lips, sending sparks of rough sensation all over. His breath fell loudly in the silence. Under her questing hands, the muscles of his shoulders were like steel spikes.

Heart threatening to explode in her chest, Mia kissed the defined line of his jaw.

Another featherlight kiss over his cheek. One more at the corner of his mouth.

Icy blue eyes darkened to the color of a stormy sky as he looked into hers. Long fingers tightened against her scalp. He’d push her away, and she couldn’t allow that.

Trembling from head to toe, she pressed her mouth flush against his. Jerked at the jolt of heat that coiled and uncoiled in corners of her body she’d forgotten existed.

Whiskey and heat—he tasted of sin, of deep desires she’d never indulged in.

She hadn’t kissed a man in a long time, but this, it felt natural, almost inevitable since the moment she’d seen him stand amidst that teeming crowd.

Keeping her gaze open with a boldness she hadn’t known she had, she traced his lower lip with her tongue. Grasped the cushiony softness of it with her teeth and tugged at it. The moment she ventured inside his mouth, the tenor of the kiss changed.

It was as if an earthquake had rocked the world beneath her feet.

Wide shoulders and hard muscles, he slammed her into him, and she was drowning. He kicked her feet apart, his hard thigh shoving between her own. His tongue tangled with hers, in and out, sending such stabs of relentless heat through her that she retreated, breathless and scared.

A hand curled around her nape while another gripped her hip tight and pulled her hard against his rock-hard body. “Don’t be scared of this, Mia mou.”

Any little breath of air she had in her lungs punched out. The hard column of his thigh pressed against her core, rubbing sensitive nerves. Mia cried out, her knees jelly. His mouth devoured her as if she were much-needed air, as if he would drown without her.

It was a salve over the wounds that had dug deep during her marriage. She sank into his touch, energized by the possessiveness of it.

“Damn it, I hoped I’d be proved wrong.” He almost sounded angry, his gaze a blue fire. “I thought I’d built you up, this attraction up into something more than it was.”

Whatever little niggles Mia’s painfully developed cautious nature threw at her dissolved at the potent need swirling in his strong face. He was right. This fire between them burned hotter and brighter the more they touched each other. It didn’t matter why she was attracted to him, or why she wanted to feel the power of his honed body over hers.

She just did.

She sank her fingers into his hair, caressing the thick black locks, carving the strong lines of his face into memory when he picked her up and started walking.

His bedroom was three times the size of hers, with French doors opening out into an incredible view of the sea. Dark gray curtains and a huge plasma TV opposite the massive bed were the only belongings in the room.

Swallowing, Mia forced herself to look at the bed. The same dark gray sheets covered the sleek, contemporary bed. The image of Nik and she tangled in those sheets sent heat rushing to her face.

“You are scared.”

She tilted up her face to see Nikandros unbutton his shirt and slide it off his wide shoulders. The insecurities brought on by the bed misted away at the sight of his broad chest. Liquid longing coursed through her at the defined contours and the sleek, tight flesh of his muscles.

“I have never...” The words died an instant death at the dark scowl on his face. “I’m not scared,” she said, tilting her chin up.

Lethal challenge glinted in his eyes. “Prove it to me.”

“How?”

“I took off my shirt. Now it’s your turn.”

She moved toward the bed and pulled off the duvet when she heard his sharp No.

“What?” she said, irritably.

She’d kept to her fitness routine almost maniacally this past year, but the idea of being wanted by him would drive any woman to doubts.

“Here, Mia. In front of me.”

“You’ve too many demands,” she said, greedily taking in the bands of muscle in his abdomen. She licked her lips, imagining running her tongue over those ridged bands.

“I’m a demanding man. You will not hide from me or from yourself, pethi mou. I’m aware that you’re jumping into this because we will never see each other again.

“But this night, this is ours. I have had ten years to imagine this moment. We’re going to do this very, very thoroughly, and in full light.

“So, come, Mia. Let me see you.”

Like a chastised student called to the front of the class, she dutifully moved back to the center of the room. Unbidden, snarky comments from Brian, always in this context, rushed into her head. Remembered frustration, with herself and him, propelled Mia forward. It was time to learn the truth.

“Two more steps,” Nikandros commanded.

“You’re enjoying this far too much,” she complained, her eyes still glued to his bare chest.

He laughed. “I believe that is what we’re supposed to do with each other—enjoy.”

She came to stand a foot from him. And stiffened. Silvery moonlight filled the spot where she stood now. He would see every inch of her skin.

“You owe me a discarded T-shirt.”

With fingers trembling violently, Mia rolled the edges of her T-shirt and pulled it off. The breeze from the sea was a soft caress against her heated skin. She threw the tee at him, her knees locked.

His gaze moved over her breasts, barely covered in her white lace bra. Her nipples became tight points, pushing against the flimsy fabric. The dark desire in those eyes gave her the courage she needed. She didn’t wait to be commanded again. With one hand behind her back, she undid the hook and shrugged off the bra.

A gravelly whisper fell from his mouth. She’d have given anything to understand if her body pleased him.

“Come closer.” His voice was a silken rasp over her naked skin. Panting breaths, his and hers, filled the velvety night. “Christos, Mia, do not argue.”

“You owe me a piece of clothing, Prince,” she demanded, lifting her chin.

With a casual movement of his hands, he unbuttoned his trousers and boxers, and stepped out of them.

He was huge, thick, jutting out and up toward his abdomen. Christ, he was bigger than she had ever imagined.

“All you have to do is ask, Mia, and you will have it,” he purred, eating away the distance between them with one long stride. Mia realized that she had her panties on only when she felt a rush of wetness seep through the cotton fabric. She had never been this aroused even when... No, he was not allowed here, in this room, tonight.

It was just this gorgeous man and her tonight. One night.

Hands on her shoulders, Nikandros pulled her close and took her mouth in a kiss that sent rivulets of pleasure up and down her body. Calluses from the pads of his fingers scraped her skin, the difference in the texture teasing out responses like she had never known. He devoured her mouth—stroked her lips with his tongue and licked into her mouth as if he would leave no inch of her untouched.

Knuckles played over her back, digging and testing, up and down, side to side, as if she were his favorite instrument. Toes digging into the cold marble, Mia sank into his kiss. The graze of her breasts, nipples distended painfully, against his velvety smooth and hard chest sent their mingled groans out into the air.

The rub of her thighs was pure torture. Her body had always been her instrument—honed lethally with focus and determination for over ten years. And it had served her well in her career.

But now, it was totally out of control. The more Nikandros gave her, the more it craved, pulsing with longing.

With a deep groan, he lifted her off the floor until she was almost plastered to his hard body shoulder to shoulder, abdomen to abdomen. The press of his shaft against her belly seared Mia. The ache at the apex of her thighs grew as he rubbed the thickness against her belly, his hips thrusting against her.

She had no idea when he had divested her of her panties. Only when his long fingers dug into the curves of her buttocks did she realize that they were gone. Plundering her mouth, and then trailing wet, thorough kisses over her neck, he shifted her until his hip bone opened her up scandalously.

Mia sobbed, the friction opening her sex making her mindless with need. “Please, Nikandros...” she whimpered, past fear and inhibitions. Rubbing the aching folds of her sex against his bare hip wantonly.

He seated her on the high bed and stared at her breasts with an unholy gleam. She’d always been a natural athlete, her body more lean muscle than softness. Her breasts were on the smaller side too.