Jayson

The cruise ends within the hour, and we return to the harbor. The limousine awaits, and Harper slips inside, then I do. She licks her lips, looking like she wants to say something. I don’t want to hear it.

Pushing the windblown hair off her neck to nibble on her skin, she succumbs at first, then pulls away. I follow.

“Jayson, stop,” she says.

I lift my head. “I’m sorry to paw at you like a horny teenager,” I say with a grin. “I suppose I can wait a few more minutes until we’re home.”

Harper scoots over slightly, putting some distance between us. “I’m sorry.”

“Why?” I ask, frowning.

“I’ve given you the wrong idea.” She shakes her head. “I shouldn’t have let things go so far.”

I knew I didn’t want to hear what she has to say. “Do you regret what happened?”

She looks to the side, finally shaking her head. “No. I should, but I don’t.” With a deep breath, she adds, “But that doesn’t matter. It can’t happen again.”

A few Greek curses escape under my breath. “Why not, Harper? Who would it hurt? You’re my wife. It is perfectly normal to make love to you.”

She swallows. “There is no normal for us, Jayson. Everything we have, everything we are, is an illusion.”

“No.” What is she talking about?

“Yes,” she insists. “We’re married, but only for a few more months. We both know getting physical will only complicate things.”

I grasp her hand, pressing it high against my thigh. “How much I want you isn’t an illusion.”

She tugs free of my hold. Harper meets my eyes, admitting to both of us what she’s been denying for so long. “I want you too, Jayson, but I’m not going to give in to that urge. I have to think of the long-term consequences. As much as I want you, I can’t let it happen.”

With a long sigh, I rake a hand through my hair. “I know I could change your mind. And you know it too.”

Harper nods. “You probably could, but it wouldn’t change anything. You know I’m right.”

I sigh again. She is infuriating. “Right now, agape mou, all I know is I will not sleep well tonight from frustration.”

She smiles tentatively. “I know the feeling.”

Watching the door to the nursery close behind Harper, it takes every ounce of willpower not to follow her and finish what we started. My body aches for her, and I know she feels the same. Harper admitted I could change her mind.

It’s tempting.

I curse myself, hating the fact I respect her decision, though it’s the right thing to do. I don’t believe sex, fucking, lovemaking, whatever you want to call it, would complicate things. After all I do want to keep her as my wife. But it’s right to honor her choice.

And I’ll do so.

For now, and reluctantly.

Maybe I’ll give her a few more days to sort out her confusion and realize she’s denying both of us for no real reason.

Harper will find it pretty difficult to deny herself, and me, when I make this my top priority.

* * *

Walking through the garden I hear someone, probably the landscaper, midway through telling a story involving his youngest brother and the family goat. I wonder who he’s talking to—I thought he was working alone?

When I come upon him, I see he’s talking to Harper.

Angelo falls silent for a moment before saying, “Kalimera, Kyrios Satyros.”

“Good afternoon,” I say coldly, and Angelo flinches.

Harper flinches as well when I turn my gaze on her. What the hell is she doing in the garden, filthy dirty, with the gardener? She swallows audibly. “Did you need something, Jayson?” She’s clearly trying to sound casual, but the tremble in her voice lets me know she’s anything but calm.

“I need my wife. I’ve been looking for you for the past two hours.” I curl my lip with contempt. “I should have known I would find you playing in the dirt.”

Her voice comes back with its usual disinterested tone. “Yes. Perhaps you should have. What do you want, Jayson?”

My eyes narrow. “You know the answer to that, agape mou.” Just a few days ago, the phrase was sweet nothings, as I fingered her. Now it sounds more like a threat than an endearment. “For starters, I would like my wife to behave with dignity. We have servants for these tasks.”

She glares at me when Angelo bows his head. “Of course, Kyrios.” Harper sets down the spade and gets to her feet, grimacing at the dirt covering her shirt and shorts. I’m livid to see her looking like one of the staff. Holding her head up, she meets my gaze.

I grasp her upper arm, pulling her with me. “Harper!” I hiss. “This is inexcusable.”

“Save the tirade for when we’re in private,” she says, jerking away from my hold. Harper holds her head high and marches back to the villa. I’m sure she’s conscious of my presence directly behind her, but she doesn’t look back at me. We enter the house, and I direct her up the stairs toward the master suite.

She holds herself stiffly when we enter the room. The slam of the door makes her jump. “Why are you behaving this way?” she asks. Demands.

“Strip.”

Harper’s eyes widen. “What?”

I rake her with a contemptuous look. “You look like a street person. Wash off the dirt and make yourself presentable.”

Harper shakes her head. “No. I’m tired of taking orders from you, Jayson.” She holds up her hands. “I like dirt under my fingernails. I feel normal when I’m digging in the soil. You have no idea how much I’ve missed it. I was this person when you married me, and I still am. A person who loves plants. Gardening. Living things!”

“You defy me?” I never thought she would do such a thing. “You are my wife. Make yourself look like it before we talk.”

With a toss of her head, Harper turns away. “We’ll discuss this when you’ve calmed down.” She starts toward her room, but gasps when I put a hand on her arm. “Let go.”

Ignoring her protest and attempts to free herself, I lift Harper and carry her into the bathroom. “Put me down.”

“As you wish.” I set her down in the shower before turning on the faucet.

Harper shrieks when cold water cascades over her before it turns warm. “You’re crazy.”

I catch myself in the bathroom mirror, seeing that a vein in my temple is throbbing visibly. “Wash yourself.” My voice drops an octave as my eyes settle on her breasts under the soaked T-shirt. “Unless you want help?”

“Get out.” Harper slams the shower door, watching me through the opaque glass until I finally give up and stalk out of the bathroom, unable to rid myself of the sight of her wet chest and hard nipples in the translucent cotton tee.