Book 2 Chapter 15
The drive back to the villa was quiet and comfortable. They arrived home shortly before four in the afternoon. The afternoon spent in the controlled, professional environment of Ioannis’s office had acted as a perfect, non-threatening bridge between the isolation of grief and the vibrancy of the outside world.
Yalda felt undeniably better today, she could deny it; the heavy, crushing weight that usually resided on her chest had lifted. Her lungs felt lighter, easier to fill with air.
Ioannis parked the car and guided her inside with his hand resting on the small of her back.
They walked through the sunlit lounge toward the bedroom as Yalda thought about the day; she'd sat around watching Ioannis do his thing, and then they'd had lunch, and she'd even tagged along with Ioannis to a less formal meeting.
On getting inside, Yalda set her purse aside and began heading towards the closet but Ioannis held her hand and pulled her gently to face him, he reached out to place his hand on her belly. He ran his palm slowly over the almost non-existent bump.
"How are you feeling?" he murmured, his gaze soft and profound.
Yalda placed her hand over his, pressing their palms together over the small life growing inside her. A genuine, unforced smile curved her lips. She felt a connection to the baby that had been clouded by fear and grief, she felt excited about it.
"I feel fine." She replied. "Thank you."
He nodded. He leaned in and planted a soft kiss on her head before backing away.
"I’m going to shower," he said. "Lie down and get some rest while I'm at it. I'll be out shortly."
He disappeared into the bathroom and Yalda stood where she was for a moment, listening to the solid thud of the bathroom door closing, followed by the ruffling and shuffling sounds before the rushing sound of the shower being turned on.
As she listened to the steady sound of the water pouring, a new feeling took hold. It wasn't the need for escape that had driven her the night before; it was different, it was gratitude.
Now that she felt stronger, lighter, she felt the strong need to do something for him. And she knew that he'd appreciate what she had in mind. She stripped off the black dress, it fell in a silent heap on the polished marble floor. She shed the rest of her clothes quickly, her heart pounded with anticipation.
She walked toward the bathroom barefoot, she reached out, grasped the cold metal handle, and pushed the door open, stepping onto the warm, tiled floor.
Ioannis was already under the showerhead, his back to her as he scrubbed his neck, his muscles were tight and powerful beneath the clear stream. He didn't hear her over the roar of the water until she was just a few feet behind him.
He turned his head slowly, and his body froze instantly.
The sight of her stopped him cold; she was naked, framed by the steam, her skin gleaming with moisture from the humid air, her long hair slightly dishevelle. His hands dropped from his head, the soap washed away. His gaze instantly darkened, it movrd wth an explicit, hungry intensity that sent a tremor through Yalda’s core.
The water was pouring down on them now, hotly and insistentently, immediately plastering the thin silk of her hair to her scalp and wetting her face. He didn't speak; he couldn't. He simply watched her like this was the first time he was seeing her naked.
Yalda stood her ground, reveling in the visceral power of his reaction. She watched the immediate effect she had on him, she watched the way his eyes narrowed, the way the large muscles in his chest tightened. She watched him get hard, she watched his cock stretching against his thigh, thick and demanding, as his gaze raked over her body again and again.
He closed the distance between them and took her hand, his skin was hot and slick with water and soap residue. He pulled her closer, bringing her fully under the cascade of the water, until they were pressed together, chest to chest, the hot spray washed over both of them sensually.
They began to shower, but the act was now completely transformed into foreplay. It was sensual and deliberate; he took the bar of rich, masculine soap and began to lather her body, his large hands working the fragrant foam over her shoulders, her neck, the curve of her collarbone. The water massaged their bodies while his touch became a more insistent.
He turned his attention to her breasts, massaging them through the slick layer of soap, his thumb grazed her nipples until they peaked, hard and demanding.
He couldn't hold back anymore, his head descended, and he kissed her, a deep, consuming kiss that tasted of hot water, soap and the raw need that had been simmering between them all day.
He broke the kiss, resting his forehead against hers like he had done back at the office, he was breathing heavily, his voice was low and gravely as he spoke, it was almost inaudible against the sound of the rushing water.
"Yalda," he rasped, his eyes burning into hers. "Tell me. Do you want me to touch you? Right now, right here?"
Heat stabbed at her stomach and she nodded.
"Yes," she answered eagerly. She was so turned on, it wasn't just the water from the shower running down her thighs.
His hands moved lower, exploring the contours of her waist, the soft curve of her abdomen where the baby was, down to her hips. He didn't linger there long; the purpose now was primal.
He began to kiss her neck, his mouth was hot against her throat, moving down to the slope of her shoulder. His hands felt her up, cupping her hips and pulling her firmly against his hardness, allowing the friction of his body against hers to further escalate the urgency.
The water continued to pour, creating a private, soundproof world of steam and sensation.
Then, the mood changed from tender to dominant, he turned her around unexpectedly. He pushed her against the tiled wall, the cold ceramic was a brief shock against the heat of her back. His movements were dominant but gentle; he was controlling the pace, the space, but always mindful of her body.
He braced one large hand on the wall beside her head, his body was a solid barrier against the world.
He didn't waste time, he reached down and his fingers found the slick, hot junction of her legs. He didn't use foreplay; her body was already aching for him. He took her hips in his hands, parting her cheeks with a firm, masculine pressure, and back onto his erection.
With a controlled surge, he entered her.
Yalda gasped, clutching the cold tile wall for support as the depth of his penetration stole her breath away. The shower intensified the friction, the water washing over their joined bodies, making the entry impossibly slick and hot.
He began to fuck her, his rhythm was slow, deep, and utterly commanding, he pressed her hard against the wall. The sound of their movements and the steady slap of skin on skin was lost beneath the roar of the water.
He brought his mouth close to her ear. "You feel so good, agápi mou. So tight and wet."
He kissed the exposed skin of her neck. "I can't tell you how much I missed you," he confessed. "I missed this, us, I missed the way you take me so well. I needed this, Yalda. I needed you to be this alive again."
The combination of the intense physical drive and the emotional depth of his whispers was overwhelming. Yalda released a low, continuous moan, her body arching and collapsing with every deep thrust. The wall was cool against her palms, the only tether to reality as he drove her higher and higher.
Her hips began to move back against him, demanding faster, deeper penetration, she couldn't help it.
Ioannis felt the rapid tightening of her internal muscles around him, the tell-tale sign of her was was coming. He threw his head back, bracing himself, gathering his own strength for the final explosion.
He let out a guttural sound, pulling her hips back fiercely as he drove into her one last time. They orgasmed together.
Ioannis held her in place against the wall, their bodies were slick and weak, their breath came in ragged, desperate gasps. He pressed his face into her shoulder, clinging to her as the remnants of the powerful release drained from their bodies.
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