Greek Mavericks: At The Greek's Pleasure. Maisey Yates

how easily feelings could be manipulated. But what he felt for Elle was beyond him. It could never be distilled into one neat emotion. Could hardly ever be defined.

      He needed it gone. Needed to burn it out. So that in the end he could walk away from the St. James family and never look back.

      Walk away from her.

      She turned to face him, her signature red ponytail swinging along with the movement. “That’s quite possessive,” she said.

      “I’m kind of a bastard. You have agreed to be my mistress until such time as we have burned out the attraction between us. That means you are mine. And mine alone.”

      “I hardly make a habit of overlapping lovers.”

      He took a step toward her, closing the distance between them. He wrapped his arm around her waist, planting his hand firmly at the center of her back and drawing her close to him. “I would not permit it.”

      “You might own my company, Apollo,” she said, her voice low, sultry, “but you do not own me.”

      “That’s where you’re wrong, I think,” he said, sliding his hand up the center of her back, cupping the back of her head. “Because for now those two things are the same. I own both the company and you.”

      “You’re a caveman.”

      He wrapped his fingers around her ponytail, tugging hard. “Shall I drag you back to my lair?”

      She gasped, the sound one of arousal, not fear.

      “You can pretend to hate this thing between us all you want. You can pretend to hate my commands. But we both know that no matter how shocked and appalled you pretend to be, you want this. You want me.”

      She leaned in slightly, and he kept his hold tight on her hair. Then she pressed her lips gently against his before biting him hard. “I might want you,” she said, “but it is not the way a woman should want a man.”

      “Take your hair down.”

      “I refuse to give in to your every command.”

      He shifted his hold on her, grabbing the bobby pin that was buried in the ponytail that wrapped one coppery strand around the rubber band that secured her hair, concealing it from view. Then he grabbed the rubber band itself, pulling it free.

      Her red hair fell past her shoulders in soft waves, extra full because of the way it had been restrained.

      She frowned, her brows locked together. “I can’t go like this. My hair is a mess.”

      “It is perfect.”

      “I do not have to wear my hair to please you.”

      “Your hair pleases me however it is fixed,” he said. “But this way, this way, all I can think about is burying my fingers in it. Pulling you toward me. Kissing you deeply. With it like this, I want nothing more than to take you straight back upstairs and make you scream my name. And so, I leave the final decision on how you wear it up to you.”

      She tilted her chin upward. “Well, it’s already down.”

      He chuckled, the soundboard of satisfaction. “I thought you might come to that conclusion.”

      She narrowed her eyes. “I prefer you without a tie.”

      “It is a formal event.”

      “Without the black tie, with the first button on your shirt undone, so that I can just see your chest hair, all I can think of is you tearing the shirt open the rest of the way so that I can put my hands on your hard muscles. So that I can feel your heartbeat raging against my palms. I can think of nothing but leaning in, running my tongue over your skin. And so,” she said, arching her brow before turning away from him. “It is up to you.”

      Apollo smiled and began to loosen his tie.

      * * *

      No matter that they were pretending to be merely business associates at the gala, Elle could not help but think the two of them looked like they had been engaged in sexual intimacy in the car on the way. Her hair was down, looking very much like he had already run his fingers through it. His shirt was undone, his tie long discarded.

      And yet, they had not had the benefit of engaging in any kind of intimate activity.

      When they had gotten in the limousine she had scooted as far away from him as possible, telling him she needed space, time to collect her thoughts. She did. She was exhausted, jet-lagged, and the nap she’d had earlier had only helped a little bit. Beyond that, she was still raw from their last encounter. And if they were supposed to appear in public together in a platonic fashion, she did not want the feeling of his touch lingering quite so strongly in the forefront of her mind.

      Now though, she was regretting it. Now she sort of wished she had climbed onto his lap in the car and satisfied her desire for him. Anything to take the edge off the extreme arousal that was pounding through her even now.

      The gala itself was beautifully appointed, held in one of the oldest and most sophisticated hotels in Athens. When she arrived, she was surprised to see that Apollo’s name was on everything.

      “You didn’t tell me that it was your charity gala we were attending.”

      He shrugged his shoulder, taking a glass of Champagne off the tray of a passing waiter. “It did not seem important.”

      “I think it is rather important. I wasn’t aware that you had founded the charity.”

      “It’s very boring. Press junket stuff. The kind of thing that one says to improve their reputation with the media. It’s a game I scarcely have the patience to play at the best of times. I did not see the point in trying to convince you that I was somehow a paragon of virtue simply because I donate money to impoverished families.”

      “You do?” In spite of everything she knew about him, in spite of her feelings about him, she could feel herself softening.

      “Yes. Do not look at me like that. I am a businessman. Believe me when I tell you this benefits me in financial ways.”

      “Why are you so resistant to being seen as good in any fashion?”

      “I do not like to raise people’s expectations.”

      She blinked. “Why?”

      “Because they will find themselves disappointed.”

      She looked around, taking in the beautifully appointed marble interior of the hotel, the impressive pillars, the glittering chandeliers. Couples dressed in the finest couture were already making their way out to the dance floor. She wished she could dance with Apollo. That he would take her into his strong arms and pull her up against his chest, hold her...just to hold her. So that she could relish his strength, his heat, if only for a moment.

      She shook her head. That was extreme foolishness. She wanted nothing more from Apollo than for him to leave her alone and allow her to run their business as she saw fit. Well, that and sex for the sake of sex, until they had burned out the attraction between them.

      She did not want him to hold her. She did not want to press her head up against his chest and listen to the sound of his heart. Did not want to spend an hour kissing him, just kissing him. No, she didn’t want any of those things.

      “I shall introduce you to some of my associates,” Apollo said. “And to some of the members of the press who are in attendance.”

      “Oh, you’re too kind,” she said, keeping her tone light.

      He pressed his hand lightly on her back, guiding her toward a group of people who were standing there conversing. He made introductions, and dropped his hand quickly back to his side, bringing a great deal of distance between the two of them as he shifted his position within the group.

      One of the men was a businessman from Italy, another a Greek, who had his business in the United States. They started to make conversation about staying relevant in