109
Silence lingered between them, heavy and almost unbearable.
Yalda shifted on his lap, suddenly aware of her nudity, of the intimacy she'd just interrupted stupidly.
Why had she brought Maria up? Why had she ruined the moment? What was she thinking?
Maria....
The moment the name slipped from her mouth, it was like striking a match over gasoline. And now she couldn't breathe past the guilt.
She looked down, unable to meet Ioannis’s eyes. “I shouldn’t have said anything,” she mumbled. “I shouldn’t have looked you up at all.”
His brows drew together. “ When did you?”
She swallowed hard, bracing for the worst. "Before all of this. When you were just this mysterious man who kept showing up in my life. I googled you. I was curious, and I shouldn’t have been.”
His silence pressed against her, but it wasn’t cold.
He reached up, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear.
“I would’ve been more surprised if you hadn’t,” he murmured. “You were walking into the lion’s den. A little curiosity is survival.”
Still, shame licked up her spine. “But I never meant to bring her up. I know it’s not my place—”
“I’m not angry, Yalda,” he said gently, his thumb grazing her jaw.
She blinked, surprised. “You’re not?”
“No. But I won’t pretend it’s not a… sensitive subject.”
She nodded slowly. “I understand.”
She knew sensitive subjects and she'd probably lose her mind if he had brought up Alexander like that.
A beat passed, his gaze never wavering.
“You want to know about Maria,” he said at last.
Yalda hesitated. “Yes. But only if you want to tell me.”
He exhaled, his thumb pausing on her cheek. “She’s out there,” he said simply. “Living the life she wants. She’s not a ghost or a tragedy. She’s just… the past.”
“And you’re okay with that?” Yalda asked softly.
“Indeed. I want nothing more for her.” His voice was calm, steady. “We wanted different things. Sometimes, it’s that simple.”
Yalda searched his face, waiting for more, for the story, for the grief, for something deeper, but it didn’t come, all the while her body burned with need.
He wasn’t ready to share it, and strangely, in this moment, she found that she didn’t need him to.
Not when his hands were on her like that. Not when her body was still aching for the connection she’d broken minutes ago. His grip on her waist tightened again.
And he saw the shift in her, she was glad to feel something again.
“You’re still thinking,” he murmured, but his voice had changed. It was deeper now. Rougher.
“I’m trying not to,” she admitted breathlessly.
“Don’t,” he whispered, sliding a hand to the back of her neck. “Let go. I’ve got you.”
And just like that, he pulled her back down onto him, thick and unrelenting.
Her gasp was immediate, body reacting faster than her mind could catch up. She clung to his shoulders as she began moving again, slow at first, then faster as he guided her with firm hands on her hips.
"Oh." She moaned quietly.
Her moans did something to him because his grip tightened even more.
"Fuck..." He cursed under his breath. "Keep going."
The pleasure came back with a vengeance, washing away everything else; the thoughts, questions, regrets. All of it.
“Just like that,” he encouraged breathily, watching her unravel. “You’re perfect like this.”
His hand fisted in her hair as she moved, as he met her rhythm, as his mouth latched onto her neck, marking her skin with soft bites and kisses.
And then it hit her. That familiar tightening.
The heat building in her core, curling through her like a fuse. Her body tensed, her rhythm faltered, and then she came. Her hips jerked, cries were muffled against his shoulder as the wave of pleasure hit her again and again.
But he wasn’t finished yet, not even close.
Still buried deep inside her, Ioannis stood in one smooth, powerful motion, gripping her thighs as she clung to him, limp and trembling.
He carried her across the room like she weighed nothing, kicked the bedroom door open, and laid her down on the bed causing her to whimper quietly from the pleasure.
“Stay there,” he ordered, voice thick with restraint.
Her eyes were wide, chest heaving.
He pulled her to the edge of the bed, climbed between her legs, and drove into her in one hard, punishing stroke.
She cried out, gripping the sheets, her already sensitive body was now overwhelmed. His pace was ruthless, unrelenting.
Each thrust made her see stars, made her forget everything but the way he filled her, the way he looked at her like she was the only thing that existed.
“You feel that?” he growled, his voice right at her ear. “Do I make you feel good?”
Yalda could barely respond.
All she could do was take it. Feel it. Let it wreck her.
He was everywhere; his hands, his breath, his mouth on her skin, his words in her head. And when he finally came, deep inside her with a growl of her name, she was trembling all over, body spent and mind blank.
There was no room for guilt now. No room for Maria or regrets or wondering.
Just the heat of his body over hers and the slow, steady rhythm of his breathing as he collapsed beside her and pulled her into his arms.
"You're on birth control, right?" He asked her
when her breathing became less erratic. It was probably too late to ask that now but he was glad she nodded.
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