Jack

I entered the bungalow, balancing grocery bags under each arm. They were filled with ingredients from the Mediterranean. I was excited to work with fresh produce, though not as excited as I was to see Emma. I’d been gone less than an hour, but a tightness in my chest had formed from the need to have her close again.

After I set the bags on the kitchen counter, my gaze found her. If anything, the magnetic force between us had grown over the past few months. I was attuned to her presence at all times, even when she wasn’t aware. I stopped to stare, my breathing uneven.

The fact that a creature like her lived in the same dimension as a demon like me was baffling.

Emma was an angel, sitting on the terrace in her white, see-through cover-up. She wore nothing underneath, the little temptress. Her hair, lighter than usual, was damp and beginning to wave. She had it pulled over one shoulder in an attempt to control the wayward locks. As Emma sat on a cushioned armchair, legs crossed, her eyes were glued to a thick text. She held a glass of white wine in one hand, idly swirling its contents.

I set a jug of milk onto the stone countertop, the noise stirring her. She looked at me, that slow smile spreading over her full lips, rising higher on one side like she was thinking something naughty. Her wide brown eyes grew smaller as her cheeks lifted, her smile turning into a full-on grin at the sight of me.

Her awe-inspiring effect was in no way diminished from the first time I’d laid eyes on her.

Circling the counter and walking the length of the living area to the terrace, I knelt in front of her. As I pulled her legs away from her body, she set her book and glass of wine on the side table. With her legs stretched out, I was able to see all of her. She was a tiny thing—average height for a woman, but thin and small-boned. She’d taken up a more rigorous form of exercise than she was used to. Her new muscle tone was slight, but long and lean. As delicate as a dove.

I kissed the side of her knee, tasting sea salt, and admired the goosebumps that formed in response to my touch.

“I thought we said no work,” I murmured against her skin, sliding my hand up her thigh to reach her hip.

“It’s not for school,” she insisted, wiggling.

So impatient.

I trailed kisses and little bites along her inner thigh. Her hands flew to my hair, where she sank her fingers into my haphazard curls. I groaned as her warmth soothed the ache in my chest, melting it into nonexistence.

She tugged on the crown of my head, pulling me up until our faces were level. Her half-lidded eyes were filled with the same heat as her touch.

“I’m never going to see Santorini if you keep doing this to me.” She pouted, cupping my rugged jawline.

I leaned forward to kiss the dip where her collarbones met, teasing the handcuff charm on her necklace. “It’s nowhere near as interesting as you.”

Her wild hair smelled like the ocean, fresh and salty. She’d been swimming, but I recognized the underlying notes of apples and lavender in it. Her skin, normally ivory, was now the color of warm honey and twice as sweet. The new freckles adorning her nose were adorable. I’d kissed them a thousand times since they had appeared.

Summer Emma might have been my favorite version, but I said that every season.

“I’m a history major, Jack,” Emma argued, as she was prone to do. She was one of few people on Earth I enjoyed sparring with. “My professors would kill me if they knew I went to Greece and barely even made it out of bed. Do you know how much there is to see here?”

I shook my head against her chest, watching with satisfaction as her nipples pebbled. “You’ll have to enlighten me.”

I had my reasons for not taking Emma into town. They were entirely selfish, and I knew it. Emma and I were both so busy back in Manhattan. We didn’t see each other as often as I wanted. I could count on two hands how many times we had been able to sleep in the same bed. This was a vacation to Greece for Emma. It was a month of unfiltered access to my girl for me. I didn’t give a shit about ancient history. Having Emma by my side every second of the day was the best thing I could ever hope for.

Before she could dispute further, I ripped the light fabric over her chest and pulled her breast into my mouth. Her spine arched off the chair, her body pushing into me of its own accord.

“Jack.” She moaned my name. “That was expensive.”

“I’ll buy you ten more.”

I licked my way down her flat belly, pressing the heel of my hand against my groin to quell the ache there. Emma groaned, her head falling back as I approached my goal. She was ready, as I knew she would be, her pink little pussy glistening for me.

“Move in with me,” I breathed against her sex.

She shuddered with pleasure, then stiffened. “No.”

I flattened my tongue, dragging it through her folds in one long, languid stroke. I swirled her clitoris twice, then pulled back. “Move in with me.”

It had to have been the hundredth time I’d asked her to move into my apartment in the city. If she lived with me, we would have every night together. It would also ease my worries about her safety. If she wasn’t on campus or working at Roisin’s, I got antsy. Ideas of her being kidnapped invaded my mind, making me useless during work.

Alas, we’d had this conversation before. Emma’s little sister, Ella, was moving to the city at the end of summer to attend Tisch, NYU’s prestigious drama school. Emma wanted to be there for Ella during her first year at college, which included sharing an apartment with her.

Emma’s ability to care for others was admirable, but exhausting. She was a genuine person. She aced her classes, was never late to work or school and emptied her wallet to the homeless. She didn’t even eat meat. She was everything that I was not. When people thought of me, words like “selfish,” “controlling” and “hard-ass,” came to mind. Emma was soft and innocent. Everyone fell in love with her…and I was no exception.

Emma churned her hips toward my mouth, desperate to get off. A moan slithered from her throat, her chest rising and falling with heightening arousal. I licked and sucked, tugging her abused clit into my mouth. The moment her muscles seized, I stopped, denying her orgasm.

“Move in with me,” I pleaded.

She roared—an adorable little tiger cub—and slammed her legs shut on either side of my head, pinning me to her. She knew I was taunting her with the edge, trying to persuade her to move in while she was hot and suggestible, and it was pissing her off.

“I’ll smash your beautiful face if you keep doing that,” she warned, her eyes flashing with frustration.

“Is that a threat, sweetheart? Because I can’t think of a better way to die than suffocating in your pussy.”

When a magnificent blush stained her cheeks, I smirked. Emma couldn’t hurt me if she gave it her all. I could easily slip my head out from between her thighs, but I enjoyed driving her crazy. She did the same to me without trying. Even if it wasn’t in a physical sense, Emma had a power over me that she was entirely unaware of. She was the one person on the planet who could put me in my place, and she just so happened to be less than half my size. My name had most men trembling in their boots, but Emma could bring me to my knees with a single glance.

“We’ll go into town tomorrow,” I said, my eyes roaming her delicate features. Her gaze was fixed on my mouth, greedy. “We can do whatever you want, dovey.”

I bent my head, seeking to fulfill her wishes. My goal had and would always be to keep my little dove smiling.

* * * *

The setting sun had turned the sky a pinkish purple, the twinkling cliffside of Santorini a distant landscape. Emma, exhausted from hours of lovemaking, went to take a hot shower. I thought of joining her, but decided to start on dinner instead. When it came to her, I fought tooth and nail for some form of self-control. I had to remind myself that the poor girl needed a break from my ever-present sex drive, not that she ever complained.

Listening to the waves rolling onto the beach, I pulled the mussels and herbs from the fridge, setting the ingredients on a large cutting board. Cooking, along with exercise and fucking, was a way for me to get out of my own head, to step back from the unbearable coil of anxiety and anger that hissed beneath my skin.

I hadn’t experienced much inner turmoil during the past two weeks and it had everything to do with Emma. She was my own personal medicine. If only I could take her in pill form when we return to Manhattan. We were halfway through our vacation, and I found myself wishing it could be permanent.

My phone buzzed from its charging station on the counter. I glanced at it wearily. We’d promised each other no work for a month, but Emma had already broken that. I knew the book she was reading had been assigned for summer break. Besides, she was in the shower. She wouldn’t even know.

Leaving the cooking, I gathered my cell phone and pored over ten missed calls. Seven were from Shannon, three from Kieran, and they’d started around one in the morning New York time.

Shit.

I clicked on Shannon’s picture, dialing my sister-in-law. She was two months from her due date, but anything could happen. If I missed that baby being born, Connor would kill me and Shannon would help dig the grave.

“Connor’s gone dark,” Shannon said by way of answering. Her voice was laced with fear and cracked as she spoke, putting me on high alert.

“How long?” I asked. It wasn’t like my brother to go dark, especially without Shannon by his side. He was just as protective of her as I was of Emma, more so now that she was carrying their child. He stayed in contact with her at all times and didn’t even let her out of the penthouse if things were getting dicey.

“He never showed in Boston last night.” Shannon panted. I could hear her shoes clapping on marble floor. She was pacing at home. “Tom called and asked if I was with him.”

Fuck. That had been over twelve hours ago. Something was wrong. Something was very fucking wrong. I spun around, turning the stove burners off.

“Who’s with you?” I asked, making sure she wasn’t alone while she waited for word.

“Just Guillermo,” she replied, her anxiety worsening at the sound of mine.

Guillermo was their personal chef. Where was my younger brother? “Kieran?”

“Scouring the streets.”

“Stay calm,” I told her, although I felt anything but as I jogged into the bedroom.

Emma was just getting out of the shower, her hair still soaking wet and a plush towel wrapped around her torso. I reached into the closet, snatched the first dress I felt then tossed it to her.

“We’ll be there tomorrow,” I informed Shannon, ending the call. I hoped she would take my advice. It wasn’t good for the baby to feel such stress, but it was inevitable given the circumstances.

When Emma saw my grim expression, her eyes widened. She slipped the dress over her head, yanking it down to her thighs as she stepped into a pair of sandals.

“We’re leaving,” I stated, throwing her phone, laptop and a few other necessary items into a backpack. I’d have the rest of our belongings shipped to us.

Thinking, as I had, that it was about the baby, Emma’s nerves bled into her tone. “Charlie’s not due yet.”

I swung the backpack over my shoulder, grabbed Emma’s hand and all but dragged her out of the bungalow. She struggled to keep up, her untied halter dress sliding off her shoulders. I bent down, scooped her into my arms, and carried her the rest of the way to the car. My brother had already been missing twelve hours and we wouldn’t land in New York for another twelve. I was pressed for time.

“Get a flight plan set to La Guardia,” I ordered the pilot, cell phone pressed to my ear as I buckled Emma into the G-Class. “We need to be in the air in an hour.”

The pilot acquiesced without hesitation. I slammed Emma’s door and rounded the front of the vehicle, throwing the bag into the backseat. The tires kicked up gravel as we sped onto the small street, well hidden from Santorini’s higher-traffic tourist areas. I dialed another number and my younger brother answered over Bluetooth on the second ring.

“How far out?” Kieran asked, his monotone voice echoing throughout the interior of the vehicle. It sent a renewed jolt of panic through my bones. I hadn’t heard his tone like that in years. Out of the three of us, Kieran was the least uptight.

“Twelve hours.” I swerved past an old pickup truck, the bed of which was filled to the brim with potted plants destined for a local vineyard. Emma grabbed the side of the door to steady herself. “Call a meeting.”

“With who?”

“Everyone. Meet at the northern safe house.”

“Done,” Kieran said, ending the call before I had the chance.

“What is it?” Emma’s voice was faint. She knew something bigger was going on. This wasn’t how I would react to the news of a baby coming.

“It’s Connor,” I gritted out, my jaw twitching as I admitted it aloud. “Someone got to him.”